Reed Bed Quotes & Sayings

Unfortunately, I had a feeling I would never get to my bed as the vacuuming would strike me dead of an aneurysm. Death by Dyson. - Reed — Kate Brian

Auburn Mason Reed," I say out loud.

What are the chances?

I smile and run my thumb over the letters in her middle name. "We have the same middle name."

I look back up at Adam, and he's lowering his bed again with a faint smile on his face. "That could be fate, you know."

I shake my head, dismissing his comment. "I'm pretty sure she's your fate. Not mine."

His voice is strained, and it takes a tremendous amount of effort for him to roll onto his side. He closes his eyes and says, "Hopefully she has more than one fate, Owen. — Colleen Hoover

I've worked really, really hard on myself to not be judgmental. — Jane Fonda

It doesn't happen very often that you get to work with some really good friends of yours and there's a common language between everyone, you don't have to explain what you're doing, you can just run with it. It makes it just so much easier and more relaxed. — Elizabeth Perkins

I have Black guys who tell me they put my books on their bed stands to read at night like something for guidance or information. That really pleases me a lot. I think my work has changed some things. It's changed me. — Ishmael Reed

I am very grateful to God everyday that my eyes flutter open and I can jump out of that bed! — Jerry Reed

Reed couldn't have agreed more with his wolf. Tonight the three of them would spend the night in the same house. He just hoped they were together in the same bed when they did it. Preferably naked and sweaty with lots of intimate touching. — Carrie Ann Ryan

Raucous quacking sounded in Firestar's ear. He jumped up, staring around wildly until he spotted a duck in the water beside the reed bed. — Erin Hunter

The more monsterous humanity gets, the more nicer monsters become — Anonymous

Her roommate was at the table with a grin that was all trouble. "So you're not going to tell me about last night?"

Erica rolled her eyes and went about getting her breakfast. "You saw Reed. How do you think it went?"

She chuckled. "Being hot doesn't mean you're good in bed."

Erica peered over her shoulder. "We never even got to the bed."

Trin's eyes widened. "Oh gods! I eat at this table! — Lisa Kessler

It's not often for me that reality is better than fantasy. This is one of those times. Reed next to me, in my bed, breathing against my chest. She was the Diane Court to my Lloyed Dobler. — Lila Felix

When I come home and I'm tired from filming all day, I expect her to be there and make sure everything is cool for me. You know, like drawing my bath and helping me into bed. — Oliver Reed

I kiss him deeply, desperately, as I paw at his clothes, and he tolerates it for a moment. Just a moment. Long enough for me to unbutton his shirt. In a blink, his hand snatches ahold of my wrists, pinning them together, pinning them down to the bed above my head. Pulling back some, he looks me in the eyes.
He says nothing.
He just stares.
Studying me again.
It's almost a minute, as I count the torturous seconds in my head. It should been awkward, but it isn't. It's erotic. His gaze penetrates me, effectively fucking my soul. — J.M. Darhower

He shows me that, and I feel it, as he holds me tightly, making love to me. I'm sweaty, and exhausted, by the time it's over. My body is spent from orgasms, and my heart feels like it goes to explode. I say nothing, though, afraid to speak, afraid to offer him any words. Because if I do, I might spew a fucking rainbow. I might spout out the kind of nonsense found in Napoleon's romance novella.
Naz lies on top of me for a moment after he finishes before finally pulling out. He stands up, gathering our clothes, tossing mine to me as I lay on the bed.
"I'm sure now," I manage to say, as I watch Naz getting dressed.
He turns to me. "Yeah?"
I nod as I sit up, clutching a hold of my necklace. "I've got everything I want. — J.M. Darhower

Talking about religion becomes irrelevant when your partner is being raped or your child is dying from a disease you can cure. The old phrase applies that if we are to prove ourselves good then we must not do nothing. We must not let illness prosper when we can cure it. We must not allow abuse when we can stop it and we must not give in to a disease that may be mind numbing and leads to violence.
This is an advocacy not of reason alone but faith in each other, hope for our future, and love in accomplishing these goals without sacrificing self, but rather growing self and calling ourselves to self-giving, not self-sacrifice. — Leviak B. Kelly

four-poster bed, torn — J.C. Reed

Rich don't work for money. They work for assets. — Robert Kiyosaki

Ragon knelt in a bed of trampled reed grass and scanned the tracks — Christopher Paolini

I was going to take it easy on you," he says, his voice low. "Lay you down on the bed and worship you, all day and all night. Kiss and caress every inch of you. Taste you with my tongue until you can't take anymore. And then I was going to give it to you, deep and slow ... make you come over and over again, until all you can do is whimper, cry my name." His free hand, the one not clutching the belt, slowly ghosts along the front of my body, his fingertips brushing against my flushed skin. He runs the hand along my breasts before settling on my chest, over my heart. "You like it that way, don't you? Like when I make you feel all of my love."
I nod, tingles erupting all over. "Uh-huh."
"And I was going to love you right, remind you what it feels like to be cherished, to be idolized, to be treated like the queen you are. I was going to make serious love to you, baby." "But now I think I'll just fuck you instead. — J.M. Darhower

Flute Notes from a Reedy Pond
Now coldness comes sifting down, layer after layer,
To our bower at the lily root.
Overhead the old umbrellas of summer Wither like pithless hands.
There is little shelter.
Hourly the eye of the sky enlarges its blank
Dominion. The stars are no nearer. Already frog-mouth and fish-mouth drink The liquor of indolence, and all thing sink Into a soft caul of forgetfulness. The fugitive colors die. Caddis worms drowse in their silk cases,
The lamp-headed nymphs are nodding to sleep like statues.
Puppets, loosed from the strings of the puppetmaster
Wear masks of horn to bed. This is not death, it is something safer. The wingy myths won't tug at us anymore: The molts are tongueless that sang from above the water Of golgotha at the tip of a reed,
And how a god flimsy as a baby's finger
Shall unhusk himself and steer into the air. — Sylvia Plath

A hero is someone who has given his or her life to something bigger than oneself. — Mitchell Zuckoff

If Reed wasn't planning on meeting me at the beach, I'd be rolling around naked in this bed with you in a heartbeat. I love surfing, but - " his gaze wandered over the thin sheet covering her body before he met her eyes again " - no wave could ever compete with you. — Lisa Kessler