Right Forehead Quotes & Sayings

My voice softens. "But you're right; I should have told you where I was going. I'm sorry to make you worry." "Damn it, Sara." He twines his fingers in my hair and lowers his mouth one hot breath from mine. "You are the reason I take my next breath," he whispers. "Why can't you see that?" His question steals the last of my anger. I soften against him, my fingers curving around his jaw. "Let's go home, baby." He kisses my forehead. "I have something to show you. — Lisa Renee Jones

About twenty pages into Luke B. Goebel's Fourteen Stories, None of Them Are Yours, I realized I was reading with one hand holding my forehead and one balled at my waist, kind of clenched, and gazing down into the paper like a man soon to be converged upon. Goebel's testimony comes on like that: engrossing, fanatical, full of private grief, and yet, at the same time, charismatic, tender, and intrepid, aglow with more spirit than most Americans have the right to wield. — Blake Butler

She groaned and tucked her fingers between my side and the mattress. "I don't think I'm ever going to get used to the cold air here."
I chuckled and kissed her forehead. "Just wait 'til it snows."
"Ugh," she moaned.
"I'll turn the heat up," I said and started to move from beneath her. She clutched me closer and made a sound of determination. I laughed. It thrilled the shit out of me that she liked having me so close. "I thought you were cold," I said affectionately.
"But you're warm."
"I'll come right back."
"Kiss me," she demanded. She was definitely a shy person, but the more time we spent together, the less shy she was with me when we were alone. I loved it. It was like getting a glimpse of the person no one else saw. — Cambria Hebert

I'm adorable, first off. My sense of humor is stellar - obvs."
"Obvs," she echoes dryly.
"I'm extraordinarily skilled in the art of conversation."
She nods. "When it's about yourself, of course."
"Of course." I pretend to think it over some more. "Oh, and I'm a mind reader. No lie. I always know what the other person is thinking."
"Yeah? What am I thinking right now?" Allie challenges.
"That you want me to shut up and fuck you again."
She shakes her head in dismay. "Goddamn it. That's actually what I was thinking."
I smirk at her and tap my forehead. "Told ya. Mind reader. — Elle Kennedy

It's true, and I was really hideous as a preteen. Tall and gawky. I used to bump my head into everything. Still do sometimes. (Kat)
You are my daughter. (Acheron)
Sure I am, I can't imagine you ever being uncoordinated. (Kat)
Oh, I assure you I've nailed quite a few signs with my forehead. It's a wonder 'Exit' isn't permanently imprinted right between my eyes. (Acheron) — Sherrilyn Kenyon

I'm just going to be really honest right now because this is all new to me and I don't know how else to handle it." He takes a deep breath and pushes the air off his forehead. "I like being around you. I like talking to you. When I'm not with you, I'm thinking about you. — Cheryl McIntyre

Right about now, he'd like to have a stamp that said "Mine, stay the hell away" to put right on her forehead. — Maya Banks

Yossarian wrinkled his forehead with quizzical amusement. You won't marry me because I'm crazy, and you say I'm crazy because I want to marry you? Is that right? — Joseph Heller

He kisses each of my eyelids and hovering his mouth over mine, he talks around my lips. "Ever since I met you, no one else has been worth thinking about."
I open my eyes, and he presses his forehead to mine as he continues, "I feel like fate has brought us together again. I also believe that one night, so long ago, just wasn't the right time for us. But tonight is. — Kim Karr

My heart beat violently. My forehead was bathed in a cold perspiration. I asked myself for the first time what it was that I was about to see when this door was opened? What chamber, long closed - what deed of mystery, long forgotten - what family secret, long buried, would be revealed to my eyes? Was it right, after all, that I should pursue this discovery? Ought I not, perhaps, to go back as I had come; tell my husband of the secret upon which I had stumbled; and leave it to him to deal with according to his pleasure? Hesitating thus, I had, even now, more than half a mind to go no farther. It was a struggle between delicacy and curiosity; and I was a mere woman, after all, and curiosity prevailed.
"Come what may," said I aloud, "I will see what lies beyond this door!"
And with this I opened it. — Amelia B. Edwards

I don't understand this gap you see between us, but can't you meet me somewhere in the middle?"
"The middle of what?"
"I don't know, the middle of tomorrow and forever, the middle of life and death, the middle of normal and paranormal. Where we've always been."
I bit my lip, nodding against his forehead. "There's a place for us there, right?"
"Always." He put his lips to mine, sealing our own little spot in the world. Together. — Kiersten White

A gold chain cut across her forehead with a diamond the size of my thumb in it. More diamonds burned like white fire at her throat. She was absolutely naked except for a sprinkling of gold body glitter, done thick enough on her nipples to make them seem metallic. A diamond anklet glittered on her right ankle. Three gold chains rode low on her hips, and that was it. And I'd complained about my outfit. — Laurell K. Hamilton

Doc Daneeka gave him a pill and a shot that put him to sleep for twelve hours. When Yossarian woke up and went to see him, Doc Daneeka gave him another pill and a shot that put him to sleep for another twelve hours. When Yossarian woke up again and went to see him, Doc Daneeka made ready to give him another pill and a shot. "How long are you going to keep giving me those pills and shots?" Yossarian asked him. "Until you feel better." "I feel all right now." Doc Daneeka's fragile suntanned forehead furrowed with surprise. "Then why don't you put some clothes on? Why are you walking around naked?" "I don't want to wear a uniform any more." Doc Daneeka accepted the explanation and put away his hypodermic syringe. "Are you sure you feel all right?" "I feel fine. I'm just a little logy from all those pills and shots you've been giving me. — Joseph Heller

The large shiny black forehead of the first whale was no more than two yards from us when it sank beneath the surface of the water, then we saw the huge blue-black bulk glide quietly under the raft right beneath our feet. It lay there for some time, dark and motionless, and we held our breath as we looked down on the gigantic curved back of a mammal a good deal longer than the raft. — Virginia Woolf

Day snorted at him and rolled out of bed, groaning like an old man and God had to hold in his laugh at Day's wide-legged walk to the bathroom. He heard Day cleaning himself up and he thought to himself while he waited. He has a right to know. Day got back into bed and fully climbed on top of him, laying his head down on his chest. God laughed. "Uhh, sweetheart. You going to sleep like this?" "Yep. I've imagined sleeping like this for years," Day said settling in comfortably. God kissed Day's forehead and wrapped his arms around him, trying to calm his mind. Please don't have a nightmare. Not tonight. Just let this night be perfect. — A.E. Via

All right. I have a serious question."
"What?" Jeremy's forehead crinkled.
"What do you like on your pizza? Because if we're not compatible there, no way can we be pretend compatible anywhere else."
"That's a lot of pressure." Jeremy licked his lips and tried to look serious. "What if I get this wrong? Does that mean we're done pretend fucking?"
"Yup. Which would totally suck for you because I am awesome in pretend bed. So let's hear it: favorite pizza toppings. — Cardeno C.

I thought you were good. That some part of you was good."
In a blink of an eye, Balthazar stood right in front of her. Arianne yelped. He took her wrist and brought the tip of the knife to the center of his chest. With his other hand, he tilted her chin up so she could look into the white center of his black irises. His silver hair rained over his forehead, covering the crease that marred its usual smoothness.
"You think I'm the good guy?" he whispered. She continued trembling, worse now. He leaned down until his lips touched her ear. "I'm not. — Kate Evangelista

A warm, ragged breath disturbed the hairs on my forehead, and my blood began pricking as I realized where exactly I had retreated: right into Mr. Braddock, our strange connection humming through the hairsbreadth of distance between our bodies, our faces. I froze, forcing myself to stop shoving against him further. Before I understood anything, a rough, large hand brushed my chin, my face tipped upwards, and his mouth caught mine, and suddenly my entire body was on fire. Whatever odd sensation had thrummed between us before was just the stroke of a violin bow to this clash of an orchestra. I felt the world pass between our lips, tasting champagne, hunger, and something indefinably darker, while his hand ignited sparks down my cheek to the nape of my neck. He wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me closer, forcing that elusive essence to run deeper than my skin, deeper than my veins, until my very bones vibrated. — Tarun Shanker

Fuck," he said, sliding his hands down to my thighs. "You're making this very hard to be the good guy you said I was last night."
"I'm not drunk."
He pressed his forehead to mine, chuckling softly. "Yeah, I can see that and while the idea of taking you right now, against the wall, is enough to make me lose control, I want you to know that I'm serious. You're not a hook up. You're not a friend with benefits. You're more than that to me."
I closed my eyes, breathing heavily.
"Well, that was ... really sort of perfect. — Jennifer L. Armentrout

Everyone in the place seen me nut him apart from the ref, it caught him on the blind side. I tried to nut him on the eyebrow so it would split open, but I got him on the forehead. The crowd turned right against me, but I made it to the last bell and lost on a unanimous decision. — Stephen Richards

Is there anything else you need from me?" Ranger asked.
"Not right now."
"There will come a time," Ranger said. "Let me know when." And he disconnected.
I opened the freezer and stuck my head in to cool off. If there'd been any more innuendo in that conversation, I could have fried an egg on my forehead. — Janet Evanovich

In two easy strides, I reach her, weave my arms around her waist and lift her feet off the ground. My angel is so light she practically floats. "Isaiah! You're crazy!"
"Insane," I answer.
She rests her forehead against mine and braids her hands tightly on my neck. "That was close. He almost got you in the end."
I love the sensation of her body against mine. Tonight, I'm going to kiss her again and, if she'll let me, I'll explore a little further. "Were you doubting me?"
She smiles when she notices the lightness in my voice. "Never."
That's right, angel. I'll never let you down. — Katie McGarry

Usually with a couple of these shots the word 'Goodnight' would show up on their forehead, but he was still on his feet, but backed up and then I battered him with a flurry of combinations: right, left, right, right, right and a sweet right hand and he went down. For good measure, I booted him in the head and turned around and walked fast in to the pub away from the scene. — Stephen Richards

Opal is dead, and I don't see how a healer can change that! It's not something to joke about."
Joke?" Then Owen hit his forehead and cried, "That's right, you haven't heard!"
Heard what?" asked Adrien, who felt an insane glimmer of hope return to his heart.
Death is on strike! She hasn't done that for two centuries, and it's very annoying. Your friend is alive."
Very annoying?" repeated Amber. "I don't see what's so annoying about a miracle! What is Death on strike for?"
Everyone knows that Death lives in Fairytale-in an inaccessible area, obviously. And just a few hours ago, she decided to stop working. So, for now, no one can die. — Flavia Bujor

Then, that memorably powerful look into my eyes told me something more: compared to dogs, wolves are grown-ups. He was not asking for help, head down, forehead wrinkled, as a dog might: "Is this right? What do you want?" Instead, head high, gaze level, he was assessing me, like a poker player: "Are you in or out?" Judging that I was in, he made his move; and we both won. — Karen Pryor

I love being brown, so I love using Guerlain Terracotta Bronzing Powder. I use it everywhere: my forehead, my cheekbones, a little bit by my chin. It gives me a golden balance that I really like. I also use the Becca Shimmering Skin Perfector for my highlighter right underneath my eye. It's a pretty color - it's not too much and not too little. — Keke Palmer

Unless he actually had a lit gasper going, Calvin Thrust always has this way of being only technically wherever he was. There was always this air of imminent departure about him, like a man whose beeper was about to sound. It's like a lit gasper was psychic ballast for him or something. Everything he said to Gately seemed like it was going to be the last thing he said right before he looked at his watch and slapped his forehead and left. — David Foster Wallace

I have an image of
Turtle
right on the forehead.
She seems to go through the lobes of my brain. Sort of
like swimming. — Sandra Harner

I want you to know that I appreciate you trusting me with this, and understand that it doesn't change a goddamn thing between us. But it kills me that you would rather your mom hate you for the rest of her life than tell her the truth." Leo ran his strong hands up and down God's thighs. God put his large palm on that gorgeous face and placed his forehead gently against Leo's. "Thank you, sweetheart, but I'm okay with this. This is the hand life dealt me. But now I have you, right." God said it more as a statement of fact. "Yes. You have me for as long as you want me." Day held him back. God — A.E. Via

Is there somebody out there? Amy, is that you?" her mother called.
"No. Tell me this isn't happening." Quinn rested his forehead against hers. "Has she got a wiretap on you or something? I swear, she's like a walking hard-on detector."
Amy bit her lip, trying not to laugh. Quinn levered himself up on his arms.
"Mrs. P., if you value your life, you'll go back inside and turn off the light right now. — Sarah Mayberry

I rolled back onto the lawn and pressed my forehead to the ground again and made the noise that Father calls groaning. I make this noise when there is too much information coming into my head from the outside world. It is like when you are upset and you hold the radio against your ear and you tune it halfway between two stations so that all you get is white noise and then you turn the volume right up so that this is all can hear and then you know you are safe because you cannot hear anything else — Mark Haddon

You're with Hunter." It was more of a question than a statement.
Tears welled up in my eyes. "But it hasn't been right. It hasn't been you. I can't ... I haven't been able to - " I sucked in a deep breath. "I can't be a real girlfriend to him when all I can do is think about you."
"Ah, shit, Pepper." Still holding my face, he lowered his forehead to mine. "I'm not going through this again with you just so you can run when you get scared that I'm not like some ideal you built up in your head. I love you. I'm fucking in love with you, but it's all or nothing. I won't do this again unless it's going to be like that."
Now I was crying, choking on my sobs. "I know. I want that. It took me so long to figure that out, but I know now. You are the safest thing I'll ever find." I deliberately repeated his words, holding his gaze and letting them sink in. "Because you love me. Because I love you. — Sophie Jordan

His chin grazed the top of my head and then his lips brushed across my forehead.
"I'm not going anywhere," he said. "I'll be right here when you wake up, sweetheart. I promise. — J. Lynn

I must warn you right here and now that I am a 'wet leftie,' a 'leftist' and also a member of the 'bleeding heart liberal left.' I had no say in it whatsoever. I woke up one morning, and these things were tattooed across my forehead. — Michael Leunig

It was right then, between when I asked about the labyrinth and when she answered me, that I realized the importance of curves, of the thousand places where girls' bodies ease from one place to another, from arc to the foot to ankle to calf, from calf to hip to wait to breast to neck to ski-slope nose to forehead to shoulder to the concave arch of the back to the butt to the etc. I'd noticed curves before, of course, but I had never quite apprehended their significance. — John Green

Brandon pulled on her hair, tipping her head back and terminating the kiss. His breath rasped in harmony with hers. He nudged her mouth with his, caught her lips again, then turned his head and rubbed his cheek against hers. "I want you to forget I said this," he whispered as he increased the pressure on the back of her scalp and urged her forehead to his shoulder. "I don't even know what I mean by it."

His mouth dusted over the crown of her head. "But I think I need you, Natalya."

Her breath caught, the sudden overflow of emotion bringing unbidden moisture to her eyes. He'd reached right in and pulled the words out of her very soul. If anyone needed the other, she needed him. Needed the way he made it impossible to hide. — Tori St. Claire

Mal slid his hand behind my neck, rubbing at the tight muscles. "Relax," he ordered. "It isn't good for the baby."
"I am not pregnant."
"Ah, shit, that's right. We were s'posed to be keeping it quiet. Sorry, pumpkin." He smacked himself in the forehead. I would've been happy to do it for him. — Kylie Scott

As she trembled and laughed and blotted her eyes with her gloved fingers, Nick took her into his arms and tried to soothe her. "Easy ... Easy ... ," he whispered, while his hands moved gently over her shoulders and back. "Take a deep breath. Hush, everything's all right." The warm brand of his mouth pressed against her forehead, her wet lashes, her cheeks. "You're safe, Lottie. You're mine, my wife, and I'll take care of you. You're safe. — Lisa Kleypas

Okay." I bounced down the stairs. "I'm decent."
He was waiting at the foot of the stairs, closer than I'd thought, and I bounded right into him. He steadied me, holding me a careful distance away for a few seconds before suddenly pulling me closer.
"Wrong again," he murmured in my ear. "You are utterly indecent - no one should look so tempting, it's not fair."
"Tempting how?" I asked. "I can change ... "
He sighed, shaking his head. "You are so absurd." He pressed his cool lips delicately to my forehead, and the room spun. The smell of his breath made it impossible to think.
"Shall I explain how you are tempting me?" he said. It was clearly a rhetorical question. His fingers traced slowly down my spine, his breath coming more quickly against my skin. My hands were limp on his chest, and I felt ligtheaded again. He tilted his head slowly and touched his cool lips to mine for the second time, very carefully, parting them slightly.
And then I collapsed. — Stephenie Meyer

Liz?"
"Hmmm?"
"Why do you care about me?"
The question seems to startle me. It's uncharacteristic for Richie, who is usually so cool and self-assured. I open my eyes. "Why would you ask me that?"
"Because I don't understand. We're so different."
I reach around the side of his face. Once again, I wipe fresh beads of sweat from his forehead. This time, I don't even bother wiping my hands on my pants. I lace my fingers into his again, and the two of us lie together, his damp clamminess seeping onto my made up face and my pretty clothes. Obviously, I couldn't care less.
"But we fit," I whisper. "Like this." And I tighten my grip around him.
"Mmm." He smiles, his eyes still closed.
"You're right. We do."
"Richie ... I'm lying. I don't like you."
"You don't?" His voice cracks.
"No." I bring my lips close to his ear. "I love you Richie Wilson. — Jessica Warman

Mick frowned and rubbed her fist hard across her forehead. That was the way things were. It was like she was mad all the time. Not how a kid gets mad quick so that soon it is all over
but in another way. Only there was nothing to be mad at. Unless the store. But the store hadn't asked her to take the job. So there was nothing to be mad at. It was like she was cheated. Only nobody had cheated her. So there was nobody to take it out on. However, just the same she had that feeling. Cheated.
But maybe it would be true about the piano and turn out O.K. Maybe she would get a chance soon. Else what the hell good had it all been
the way she felt about music and the plans she had made in the inside room? It had to be some good if anything made sense. And it was too and it was too and it was too and it was too. It was some good.
All right!
O.K!
Some good. — Carson McCullers

Can you catch the expression of the Sperm Whale's there? It is the same he died with, only some of the longer wrinkles in the forehead seem now faded away. I think his broad brow to be full of a prairie-like placidity, born of a speculative indifference as to death. But mark the other head's [Right Whale] expression. See that amazing lower lip, pressed by accident against the vessel's side, so as firmly to embrace the jaw. Does not this whole head seem to speak of an enormous practical resolution in facing death? This Right Whale I take to have been a Stoic; the Sperm Whale, a Platonian, who might have taken up Spinoza in his latter years. — Herman Melville

I can't do it," he rasped, hissing out a great heaving breath from his lungs. "You were right. I can't shut it off. I can't stop loving you."
"I know, baby. I know." Cupping both my palms around his face, I wiped more tears off his cheeks with my thumbs.
He sobbed out his distress as he leaned down onto me fully and pressed his forehead to mine. "I missed you so much. — Linda Kage

Love Came ...
and became like blood in my body.
It rushed through my veins and
encircled my Heart.
Everywhere I looked,
I saw One Thing ...
Love's Name written
on my limbs,
on my left palm,
on my forehead,
on the back of my neck,
on my right big toe ...
Oh, my friend,
all that you see of me
is just a shell,
and the rest belongs to Love. — Rumi

I didn't expect to see you again so soon."

"And now you've assigned me a new job." I wrinkle my forehead. "'Our friends in the library'?"

He laughs. "The Resurgandi, of course. Everyone's got a silly nickname for them, and that's my father's."

"That footman can't have believed it," I say. "He's gossiping with the other servants right now."

"Oh, but I think he will believe it. There's talk of inducting me, since I did so well at university, and you know how they cloak all their goings-on in secretive mummery. Oaths and hand signs and the like. Keeps them occupied, I suppose. — Rosamund Hodge

If by it, you mean that big ass vein in the middle of your forehead, then yeah. It moved all right and it's still pulsing. — Kimberly Spencer

Good God, how much reverence can you have for a Supreme Being who finds it necessary to include tooth decay in His divine system of creation? Why in the world did He ever create pain?'
'Pain?' Lieutenant Shiesskopf's wife pounced upon the word victoriously. 'Pain is a warning to us of bodily dangers.'
'And who created the dangers?' Yossarian demanded. 'Why couldn't He have used a doorbell to notify us, or one of His celestial choirs? Or a system of blue-and-red neon tubes right in the middle of each person's forehead?'
'People would certainly look silly walking around with red neon tubes right in the middle of their foreheads.'
'They certainly look beautiful now writhing in agony, don't they? — Joseph Heller

Open your eyes, baby. Look at me." He pressed his forehead down to meet mine, my eyelids fluttering open at his command. "Look at me and tell me you don't want it."
I peered up at him with unsteady breaths, hearing his throat work when I tilted my lips to graze his. The contact was feather light, my heart hammering through my chest at the feel of it. "I'm looking," I breathed against him.
"Good. Because right now, all I want to do is rip your clothes off and make you come until you can't stand, and I want your eyes on me the whole time, are we clear?"
-Jackson and Emma — Rachael Wade

She put her arms around me again and we held each other for a long moment, her head on my shoulder, breath warm on my neck, and suddenly I wanted nothing more than to close all the little gaps that existed between our bodies, to collapse into one being. But then she pulled away and kissed my forehead and started back toward the others. I was too dazed to follow right away, because there was something new happening, a wheel inside my heart I'd never noticed before, and it was spinning so fast it made me dizzy. And the farther away she got, the faster it spun, like there was an invisible cord unreeling from it that stretched between us, and if she went too far it would snap - and kill me. — Ransom Riggs

I take a breath. Words seem suddenly trite and useless, so I step forward and grab Elias's hands, remembering Pop. Touch heals, Laia. I hold fast to him, trying to put everything I feel into that touch. I hope your Tribe is all right. I hope they survive the Martials. I'm truly, truly sorry. It's not enough. But it's all I have. After a moment, Elias lets out a breath and leans his forehead against mine. "Tell me what you told me that night in my room at Blackcliff," he murmurs. "What your Nan used to say to you." "As long as there is life" - I can hear Nan's warm voice as I say it - "there is hope." Elias lifts his head and looks down at me, the coolness in his eyes replaced by that raw, unquenchable fire. I forget to breathe. "Don't you forget it," he says. "Ever." I nod. The minutes pass, and neither of us pull away, instead finding solace in the coolness of the night and the quiet company of the stars. — Sabaa Tahir

I love you, Tess McGee. I don't do big funny or heartfelt speeches in front of people at birthday parties, but I'm excellent in private alcoves in beer gardens." He paused. "Okay, that sounded really bad, what I mean is ... "
I kissed him into silence. I pressed my forehead against his with a sigh. "I love you, too, Toby. In fact, that's what I was going to tell you before we walked into the beer garden. Right before the really bad singing started."
Toby chuckled. He let out a sigh of relief. "Ready to reminisce?"
I whispered my final word before he closed the distance.
"Always. — C.J. Duggan

There was a sharp 'phut', no louder than a bubble of air escaping from a tube of toothpaste. No other noise at all, and suddenly Le Chiffre had grown another eye, a third eye on a level with the other two, right where the thick nose started to jut out below the forehead. It was a small black eye, without eyelashes or eyebrows. — Ian Fleming

I think I have more feelings for you than I should have," he admitted. "Feelings aren't supposed to make sense, though, right? They confuse the fuck out of me and make me twisted inside," he whispered as he gently touched his forehead to hers. "Tell me it's not just me who feels this connection," he muttered.
"It's not," she whispered. — Amelia Hutchins

Thats why i'm staying here,"claire said."with you.tonight."shane took in a deep breath."clothes stay on." "mostly,"she agreed. "you know,your parents really are right about me."claire sighed."no,they're not.nobody knows you at all,i think.not your dad,not even michael.your a deep,dark mystery,shane."he kissed her for the first time since she'd entered the room,a warm press of lips to her forehead."i'm an open book." she smiled."i like books." "hey,we've got something in common." i'm taking off my shoes." "fine.shoes off." "and my pants." "dont push it claire. — Rachel Caine

Dragos said in her head, Pia,
what are you doing?
She closed her eyes. It had been too much to hope that the sentinels would keep quiet about their outing. What she wouldn't give for a little privacy right now.
Don't talk to me, she said to Dragos.
You left the Tower. His mental voice was so quiet and controlled it sent a chill down her spine.
You promised you wouldn't.
She snarled, I said don't talk to me, you son of a bitch.
A heartbeat, and then, his calm quite
stripped away, he demanded, What's
happened?
Shut up. Get out of my head.
Pia, goddammit. When she didn't answer
he roared, WHAT THE FUCK DID I DO
NOW?
His telepathic shout reverberated in her skull. She clapped a hand to her forehead.
Don't yell at me like that. I can't think! Give me a minute. — Thea Harrison

For a second i was just a kid, a kid who had lived all his life in the same tiny town. Just a child, because i knew i would have to live a lot more, suffer a lot more, to ever understand the searing agony in Edwards eyes. He raised his hands as if to wipe sweat from his forehead, but his fingers scraped against his face like they were going to rip his granite skin right off. His black eyes burned in their sockets, out of focus, or seeing things that weren't there. His mouth opened like he was going to scream, but nothing came out. This was the face of a man who would if he were burning at the stake. — Stephenie Meyer

In fact with his low forehead, ornamental quiffs of hair on the temples, lurching walk and perpetual swelling of the right trouser pocket where he kept a knife, it was obvious at once that Vincenzino was "a man of honour," one of those violent cretins capable of any havoc. — Giuseppe Tomasi Di Lampedusa

She smiled. "Of course. You are right. How can I enjoy my happiness when so many suffer?"
He kissed her forehead. "Soon all suffering will end."
She gazed up at him. "And I will be by your side forever."
"Forever and ever and ever." He leaned over and kissed her.
And so the adventure begins... — MaryLu Tyndall

Well, good night," he said cheerfully. "Thanks for dinner."
"Oh. Right." I took a half step back toward the house. "You're welcome."
"Ella."
"Yeah?"
"You've gotta be kidding."
PECo hadn't some yet, so it was pretty dark where we were standing. I don't know how his hand found mine so fast, but one second I was thinking about how much I didn't want to say good night, and the next I was up against his chest, standing on my toes with my feet between his.
"Is this okay?" he asked, his breath chocolaty and warm against my forehead.
"Yeah," I answered, my own breath coming in quick little jumps. "Yeah."
"Good.I have something I have to tell you."
I waited.
"I hate that Klimt painting," he said. "I really hate it."
Then he was folding me into his coat and his face was right above mine, and there was only one kiss that mattered. — Melissa Jensen

Ty:
Damn, he's fine.
Damn, he's a good quarterback.
Damn, he's nice and sweet.
Damn, he's a good kisser.
Damn, he's buff.
Damn, he's great to his family.
Damn, now that I know about Henry,
I'm not sure Ty and I are right for each other.
Henry:
I love the way his curls flop around and hang across his forehead.
I love how he never just lets me win. I have to earn it.
I love how he touches me just because.
I love his loyalty.
I love how when we sleep head-to-toe,
he always finds a reason to sleep head-to-head instead.
I love his unconditional support.
I love his spontaneity and crazy sense of humor.
I love his stupid dances.
I love....him. — Miranda Kenneally

She did not look like an orphan, said the wife of the Oriel don, subsequently, on the way home. The criticism was a just one ... Tall and lissom, she was sheathed from the bosom downwards in flamingo silk, and she was liberally festooned with emeralds. Her dark hair was not even strained back from her forehead and behind her ears, as an orphan's should be. Parted somewhere at the side, it fell in an avalanche of curls upon one eyebrow. From her right ear drooped heavily a black pearl, from her left a pink; and their difference gave an odd, bewildering witchery to the little face between. — Max Beerbohm

If looks could kill right then, Jason had no doubt he would've been lying flat on the ground with an expression of wide-eyed shock on his face and a twelve-inch hatchet lodged deep in his forehead. — Julie James

Kat turned back to Hale. "The Mary Poppins?"
"Seemed like a good idea at the time."
"Oh. Yeah. Obviously. Just so we're clear, this master plan of yours ... "
"Might have a couple kinks to work through," Hale admitted, then reached for her hand. As soon as he touched her, Kat knew there was no such thing as curses. People make and break their own fortunes-they are the masters of their own fate. And right then Kat wouldn't have changed a thing.
She kissed him, quick and feather soft.
"What was that for?" he asked.
Kat placed her fingers on his face and brought his forehead close to hers, touching as she whispered, "For luck. — Ally Carter

Having love means not losing the light.And what love!Love entirely pure.Blindness does not exist where there is certainty.The soul gropes for another soul-and finds it.And this soul found and tried and tested is a woman.A hand supports you,it is hers;lips brush your forehead,hers;you hear breathing right next to you,it is her breathing.To have all of her,from her devotion to her sympathy,never to be abandoned,to have that sweet frailty that succours you,to lean on such an unshakable reed,to touch Providence with your own hands and hold it in your arms. — Victor Hugo

If you set yourself to it, you can live the same life, rich or poor. You can keep on with your books and your ideas. You just got to say to yourself, "I'm a free man in here" - he tapped his forehead - "and you're all right. — George Orwell

Yes, yes, I know what you're thinking! 'It's all right for him, he's an internationally famous wizard already!' But when I was twelve, I was just as much of a nobody as you are now. In fact, I'd say I was even more of a nobody! I mean, a few people have heard of you, haven't they? All that business with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!" He glanced at the lightning scar on Harry's forehead. "I know, I know - it's not quite as good as winning Witch Weekly's Most-Charming-Smile Award five times in a row, as I have - but it's a start, Harry, it's a start. — J.K. Rowling

Thingumy whispered something again. The Hemulen nodded. "It's a secret," he said. "Thingumy and Bob think the Contents is the most beautiful thing in the world, but the Groke just thinks it's the most expensive."
The Snork nodded many times and wrinkled his forehead. "This is a difficult case," he said. Thingumy and Bob have reasoned correctly, but they have acted wrongly. Right is right. — Tove Jansson

She stepped right up to me, gripped the sides of my waist with her hands, and let her forehead drop to my chest.
"We're going to be okay," I said as I wrapped my arms around her. I had no doubt she could be okay all on her own without my presence in her life. But I also had no doubt I never would be without her. "We're going to be okay," I repeated. — Elizabeth Finn

He bent over Farid and wiped some soot from his cold forehead. "Roxanne knows it," he said. "She'll tell it to you. Just go to her and ... and tell her I've had to go away. Tell her I'm going to find out if the story is true."
He spoke with a strange kind of hesitation, as if it were infinitely difficult to find the right words. "And remind her of my promise - that I'll always find a way back to her, wherever I am. Will you tell her that? — Cornelia Funke

She was rumpled, undone, her hair coming out of its elastic to curl in tendrils around her face. There was something I had to say to her, I thought, something necessary, something right at the tip of my tongue.
I guess she knew it before I did.
Leaning over, she smoothed my hair back from my forehead. I closed my eyes at her touch. And so it was a surprise when she kissed me on the lips. — Brittany Cavallaro

Jason lifted me up, and I wrapped my legs around his waist. His forehead rested against mine. "I've never liked dancing." He started to sway with the music and the tide, turning us slowly. "But maybe I just never had the right partner. — Lisa Kessler

I'd do it all over again, you know. I wouldn't trade one second if it meant we were right here, in this moment."
She took in a deep breath, and I gently kissed her forehead.
"This is it," I whispered.
"What?"
"The moment. When I watch you sleeping ... that peace on your face? This is it. I haven't had it since before my mom died, but I can feel it again." I took another deep breath and pulled her closer. "I knew the second I met you that there was something about you I needed. Turns out it wasn't something about you at all. It was just you."
Abby offered a tired smile as she buried her face into my chest. "It's us, Trav. Nothing makes sense unless we're together. Have you noticed that?"
"Noticed? I've been telling you that all year!" I teased. — Jamie McGuire

A fly sneaks into the heavy hush of the room. Lands on the man's forehead. Hesitant. Uncertain. Wanders over his wrinkles, licks his skin. No taste. Definitely no taste. The fly makes its way down into the corner of his eye. Still hesitant. Still uncertain. It tastes the white of the eye, then moves off. It isn't chased away. It resumes its journey, getting lost in the beard, climbing the nose. Takes flight. Explores the body. Returns. Settles once more on the face. Clambers onto the tube stuffed into the half-open mouth. Licks it, moves right along it to the edge of the lips. No spit. No taste. The fly continues, enters the mouth. And is engulfed. — Atiq Rahimi

A book isn't a single, static thing with one unarguable meaning. Each reader who comes to it brings his own special knowledge, habits and attitudes. Each reader reads a different book. Each reader imagines a different story.
A few years ago, for instance, a friend of my mother's sent me a copy of a test on Rite of Passage that she had given her students. The first question read: "True or False? The theme of Rite of Passage is ... " I can't tell you what the presumed themed was, but I can tell you that I didn't recognize it. Beads of sweat leaped out of my forehead. After two more questions, I had to put the test aside. I didn't know the "right" answers. — Alexei Panshin

There was a little girl
Who had a little curl
Right in the middle of her forehead.
When she was good, she was very, very good.
And when she was "bad",
Her Papa loved her anyway. — Kristen McKee

I do. My time is done. Jaqen passed a hand down his face from forehead to chin, and where it went he changed. His cheeks grew fuller, his eyes closer; his nose hooked, a scar appeared on his right cheek where no scar had been before. And when he shook his head, his long straight hair, half red and half white, dissolved away to reveal a cap of tight black curls. — George R R Martin

I wish I could take language And fold it like cool, moist rags. I would lay words on your forehead. I would wrap words on your wrists. 'There, there,' my words would say - Or something better. I would ask them to murmur, 'Hush' and 'Shh, shhh, it's all right.' I would ask them to hold you all night. I wish I could take language And daub and soothe and cool Where fever blisters and burns, Where fever turns yourself against you. I wish I could take language And heal the words that were the wounds You have no names for. — Julia Margaret Cameron

The right sort (of story) come of themselves: they tap at my forehead and say 'Here we are. — Hans Christian Andersen

Do you know you're bleeding?" he asked.
"I had a suspicion."
"That looks nasty."
"My apologies."
"What happened to your forehead?"
"A fork."
"A fork?"
"Yes, sir. I wish I'd been eating with a spoon."
"You stabbed yourself with a fork?"
"It flipped."
"Flipped?"
"The fork."
"A flipped fork?"
"It flicked my forehead."
Pausing in the counting of my change, he gave me a narrow look.
"That's right," I said. "A flipped fork flicked my forehead. — Dean Koontz

Right,' Thomas said. 'Where are we headed?'
'To where they treat me like royalty,' I said.
'We're going to Burger King?'
I rubbed the heel of my hand against my forehead and spelled fratricide in a subvocal mutter, but I had to spell out temporary insanity and justifiable homicide, too, before I calmed down enough to speak politely. 'Just take a left and drive. Please.'
'Well,' Thomas said, grinning, 'since you said 'please'
- Thomas Raith & Harry Dresden, Small Favor, Jim Butcher — Jim Butcher

When she comes down to supper I don't like her any better; in fact, a hell of a lot less. She's put on a shiny dress, all fishscales, like this was still India or the boat. On her head she's put a sort of beaded cap that fits close-like a hood. A mottled green-and-black thing that gleams dully in the candlelight. Not a hair shows below it, you can't tell whether she's a woman or what the devil she is. Right in front, above her forehead, there's a sort of question-mark worked into it, in darker beads. You can't be sure what it is, but it's shaped like a question mark. ("Kiss of the Cobra") — Cornell Woolrich

Before I can even process his actions, he bends down and gives me a quick but deep kiss. When he pulls back and rests his forehead against mine, I know I might as well have just signed on the dotted line. The look he gives me is so full of promise that if I had been wearing underwear, they would have blown up, completely exploded, right from my skin. — Harper Sloan

Why would you care what happened to me? That's all in the past." Jagger bent down and touched his forehead to hers. "Because you're mine. And 'mine' means you have my protection. 'Mine' means I'll look after you. It means nothing happens you don't want to happen and no one touches you without your consent. It means your life is in my hands and I will do everything in my power to ensure you are safe and secure and your needs are met. It means something happened to you that twisted your perception so bad, you look at us and you see only them. I'll make that right. I'll give you justice. I'll give you back whatever was taken from you. — Anonymous

There are always a few bored audience members at an opera, especially by the time act four comes along. Those particular eyes would be wandering around the hall, searching for something, anything, interesting to watch. Those eyes would land on the little demon downstage right, unless they were distracted.
Right on cue, a large stage lamp broke free of its clamp in the rigging and swung on its cable into the back canvas. [ ... ]
On his way though the lobby minutes later, Artemis was highly amuse to overhear several audience members gushing over the unorthodox direction of the opera's final scene. The exploding lamp, muse one buff, was doubtless a metaphor for Norma's own falling star. But no, argued a second. The lamp was obviously a modernistic interpretation of the burning stake that Norma was about to face.
Or perhaps, thought Artemis as he pushed through the crowd to find a light Sicilian mist falling on his forehead, the exploding lamp was simply an exploding lamp. — Eoin Colfer

I can't help blushing and looking down at my feet. "It was nothing."
"It was literally everything to me."
I look up, putting on my best version of Eight's teasing smile. "In that case, I think I deserve more than a gross hot dog."
Eight clasps his hands across his chest like I've wounded him. "You're right! I'm a fool to think my life could be traded for a hot dog." He grabs my hand and gets down on one knee, pressing his forehead to the back of my hand. "My savior, what can I ever do to repay you? — Pittacus Lore

I kid you not Crowe, I'm working the King Sooper's stores tomorrow. I'm gonna find me a checkout boy. Safe job, good insurance and he probably won't tell me what to do.
At my threat Vance kissed my forehead. Then he let me go. I took this to mean he didn't feel the King's Sooper's checkout boys were much competition.
He was probably right. — Kristen Ashley

You're beautiful," he told me.
"I think you are, too."
"Goodnight, Freckles." He kissed me on the forehead, his lips lingering, and then he pulled away.
I caught his arm as he turned. "Holt?"
"Anything," was his reply.
Butterflies erupted in my belly. "Will you sleep with me?"
He glanced inside his room at the bed, then back at me. "Only if you promise not to try to take advantage of me." He widened his eyes like he was somehow scandalized.
I laughed. "Please. You'd like it."
"You're damn right. — Cambria Hebert

Why?" I asked him tiredly. "What would it have changed? What could you possibly have said that would have made a difference?"
"That I was your brother, Harry," he said. "That I loved you. That I knew a few things about denying the dark parts of your nature. And that we would get through it." He put his elblows on his knees and rested his forehead on his hands. "That we'd figure it out. That you weren't alone."
Stab.
Twist.
He was right. It was just that simple. — Jim Butcher

Rub your palms together quickly to create some heat. Once you have some heat, gently press the heels of your hands onto your eyelids and rest your fingers on your forehead. Take three big deep breaths. When you are ready, relax your hands down on your thighs. Keeping your eyes closed, pay attention to how you feel right now. However you feel - calm, agitated, comfortable, or squirmy - simply take notice. If there is a particular area that feels tense, bring your attention to that area with your mind, take a few big deep breaths, and focus on relaxing that area. If there is another area that feels tense, repeat the deep breaths, and focus on relaxing that area. Hang here for ten long, deep breaths. When you are ready, gently open your eyes. — Tara Stiles

She watched him for a long moment, an adorably annoyed frown wrinkling her forehead. "You're obnoxious when you're right. — Katie Reus

The whole right side of his face was smashed in, concave forehead and crushed cheekbone and one eye bugging precariously from a broken socket. He was purplish-black, and dirty white: Maggots seethed from every pore and crawled across him in excited wriggly piles, blowflies waving and blooming and wilting, the bits of bone they'd scraped clean glinting like tiny mosaic tiles. Scraps of jeans and a leather jacket clung to the sticky seething mess of his flesh. He was big, big shouldered, a good foot taller; chit-chitter, he went, even standing still. — Joan Frances Turner

Good morning, sunshine," he said, his smile quickly disappearing in the face of her murderous glance when she raised her face to look at him.

"Shut up and die, morning person. Coffee," she mumbled.

Right. Note to self. Mate was not a morning person. He poured a cup of coffee and placed it on the table near her hand along with the sweetener and cream. He watched as she poured three packets of Equal into the coffee with her forehead still on the table. He looked on in amazement as she felt around and unscrewed the cap to the cream before dousing the dark liquid. She stirred for a second before dragging the cup to her lips. After a few sips she was able to lift her head. By the time she had finished half a cup she was sitting upright. When she finished the cup, her eyes were open and she was looking around.

"You need to be a coffee commercial," Connor said, staring at his mate. — Alanea Alder

He moved to kiss my forehead, my eyes, my cheeks, my lips for several long, searching moments.
Right then, I wished we could stay together. Forever. — Lisa Tawn Bergren

Take me to my new trailer," Ezra ordered Dennis.
Dennis didn't move.
"What, did you not hear me?" Ezra raged. "I'm standing on your deaf ear?"
Dennis just stood there calmly.
Ezra slapped his own forehead with his right hand and sighed - civility didn't come easy. And here Dennis was standing his ground and demanding he be treated right.
"Please," Ezra said, defeated.
Dennis turned away from Elton and walked confidently toward the new RV the U.S. government had brought in for Ezra.
"Some people and their inflated egos," Ezra sniffed.
Dennis just smiled. — Obert Skye

Mitch tore his mouth from mine but I felt his forehead rest against mine before I heard him growl on an arm squeeze that took what little breath I had left, "Jesus fuckin' Christ, baby, you can kiss."
My eyes opened slowly to see his right there and I didn't think because I couldn't think and therefore I didn't stop myself before I blurted breathlessly, "Oh my God, that was the best kiss I've ever had. — Kristen Ashley

The whole party followed, with the exception of Scythrop, who threw himself into his arm-chair, crossed his left foot over his right knee, placed the hollow of his left hand on the interior ancle of his left leg, rested his right elbow on the elbow of the chair, placed the ball of his right thumb against his right temple, curved the forefinger along the upper part of his forehead, rested the point of the middle finger on the bridge of his nose, and the points of the two others on the lower part of the palm, fixed his eyes intently on the veins in the back of his left hand, and sat in this position like the immoveable Theseus, who, as is well known to many who have not been at college, and to some few who have, sedet, oeternumque sedebit. We hope the admirers of the minitiae in poetry and romance will appreciate this accurate description of a pensive attitude. — Thomas Love Peacock

I didn't know what to say, but my heart was racing as he slid his hands down to mine. He placed them on his chest, right above his heart. "I have hope," he said, his gaze never leaving mine. "I have hope because I love you-I've been in love with you, Avery. Probably before I even realized that I was."
"You loved me?"
Cam dropped his forehead to mine and his chest rose sharply under my hands. "I love you."
My heart stuttered. "You love me?"
"Yes, sweetheart. — J. Lynn

I do have a point to all this," she continues. "There are like twenty people in that waiting room right now. Some of them are related to you. Some of them are not. But we're all your family." She stops now. Leans over me so that the wisps of her hair tickle my face. She kisses me on the forehead. "You still have a family," she whispers. — Gayle Forman

BENEDICK: That a woman conceived me, I thank her; that she brought me up, I likewise give her most humble thanks. But that I will have a recheat winded in my forehead or hang my bugle in an invisible baldrick, all women shall pardon me. Because I will not do them the wrong to mistrust any, I will do myself the right to trust none. And the fine is, for the which I may go the finer, I will live a bachelor. — William Shakespeare

Jase rested his forehead against mine and closed his eyes. His warm breath danced over my lips. I want to take you out on a date. I want to take you horseback riding. I want to tell your brother. I want to take you home to my parents and introduce you as my girlfriend. I want to prove this means more to me. I want to do this the right way. — J. Lynn