Second Skin Quotes & Sayings

I now wear the memory of nothingness
a piece of white sail wrapped like second skin. — Helene Cardona

But don't you dare think for one second that I don't remember every single touch and feeling I had with you. I remember the way every inch of you felt under my fingers. I remember the way your skin tasted, and I sure as hell didn't forget the way I fit inside you so damn perfectly. It literally makes me ache at the loss. — Kimberly Lauren

Time is a lie. Each second, when I am not with you, seems like an eternity and every moment when your breath touches my skin, which makes each bit of my soul crave for you feels the same too. Each hour when I am with you seems like a second and when I am inside your arms, even eternity feels the same too. — Akshay Vasu

I promise I don't bite." He winked at her.

That earned him another throaty laugh. Then she bent over him, hands braced on his thighs, her luscious mouth inches from his. The heat of her palms singed his skin even through his jeans. Her warm breaths puffed against his lips as she stared him dead in the eye. "What if I do? — J.M. Stewart

Things would hurt me in a big way because I didn't seem to have a very thick layer of skin, but this also meant I had extreme empathy for other people. I think perhaps that's what makes my songs hit home for some people, because I've tried to see the world through their eyes and I recognise- even just for a second- that we all ultimately are struggling with the same things. — Missy Higgins

You will never go there. You have a problem with Mac, you work it out with me. I am her shield, I am her second F***ing skin. — Karen Marie Moning

Then it's settled." He pulled her into an embrace. "It's been a long night for both of us. How about I drive you home?"
Inhaling a deep breath, she was overwhelmed by the woodsy scent of his bare skin. Desire surged through her - a euphoric sensation, vibrating all the way to her core. A second later, her nipples pebbled. Worried he might notice, she pulled away from him, covering her chest with her crossed arms. What was happening to her? "I think that's a good idea. — Stacey O'Neale

I take his hand and he guides me out of his study. A sinking feeling circles my gut as he closes the door. A flutter in my heart accompanies the sinking feeling.
I know this feeling.
I know it all too well.
I've felt it before.
It feels like you're falling from a cliff. The air is sucked from your lungs and your stomach bottoms out. Your heart won't stop racing and your skin puckers at the thought of someone wrapping their arms around you.
Yes, I know this feeling. I know that I'm falling for Elijah Watson.
And I pray that I don't lose someone I've fallen for a second time. — Lauren Hammond

She had suffered; she had endured loss; she wore sadness like a second skin. — Sara B. Larson

After another half second, he's locked me in a bear hug, crushing me into his chest and lifting my feet a couple inches off the ground as I kick furiously with my heels, twisting my head back and forth, snapping at his forearm with my teeth.
And the whole time his lips tickling the delicate skin of my ear. "Cassie. Don't. Cassie ... "
"Let ... me ... go."
"That's been the whole problem. I can't. — Rick Yancey

Every second we're together, I get under your skin as deeply as you've scarred mine. — Kresley Cole

He was working at the university library. She would have liked to smell on his skin the fresh aroma of books they bought at bookstores or the rank odour of the books they unearthed in second-hand stores, but books don't leave the same traces on people, and she never found any scent on him of paper, old or new. — Samuel Archibald

Once sin is allowed to settle in your heart, it will not be turned out at your bidding. Custom becomes second nature, and its chains are not easily broken. The prophet has well said, "Can the Ethiopian change his skin, or the leopard its spots? Neither can you do good who are accustomed to doing evil" (Jeremiah 13:23). Habits are like stones rolling down hill--the further they roll, the faster and more ungovernable is their course. Habits, like trees, are strengthened by age. A boy may bend an oak when it is a sapling--a hundred men cannot root it up, when it is a full grown tree. A child can wade over the Thames River at its fountain-head--the largest ship in the world can float in it when it gets near the sea. So it is with habits: the older the stronger--the longer they have held possession, the harder they will be to cast out. — J.C. Ryle

I'm going to peel his skin from his sorry body and feed it to him until he chokes to death. And I'm going to make sure he feels every second of excruciating pain. Nobody — K. Webster

I walked far down a dirt side road and into a farmer's field - some sort of cereal that was chest high and corn green and rustled as its blades inflicted small paper burns on my skin as I walked through them. And in that field, when the appointed hour, minute, and second of the darkness came, I lay myself down on the ground, surrounded by the tall pithy grain stalks and the faint sound of insects, and held my breath, there experiencing a mood that I have never really been able to shake completely - a mood of darkness and inevitability and facination - a mood that surely must have been held by most young people since the dawn of time as they have crooked their necks, stared at the heavens, and watched their sky go out. — Douglas Coupland

The second plane coming out of that ice blue sky, this was the footage that entered the body, that seemed to run beneath her skin, the fleeting sprint that carried lives and histories, theirs and hers, everyone's, into some other distance, out beyond the towers. — Don DeLillo

My lying is a second skin by now, so easy to forget it's there, so I don't always remember that lying is actually an art, and those who aren't meticulous about it are easily exposed. — Jillian Cantor

There is no racism against white people. If you can turn on the tv and see people like you that's not racism. If you can have your favorite characters who are poc race changed to look like you then you don't face racism. If you don't think about Ferguson every single second because your race is being killed every hour, that's not racism. If you don't get called derogatory slurs because of your skin tone that's not racism. If you don't hate your body because of your race that's not racism. If you don't have to go through life knowing people will think of you as ugly or disgusting and hate you simply because your white that's not racism. You don't face racism for being white. Ya people can be jerks about it. But its not institutionalized. That's like saying you face discrimination for being straight. It's not a thing. You don't face racism. You might want to get over that — Adam Snowflake

Poverty has a home in Africalike a quiet second skin.It may be the only place on earth where it is worn with unconscious dignity. — Bessie Head

The rather blurred background to the face that formed over the vid plate seemed faintly familiar - ah yes, the Security Ops room at Ryoval Biologicals. Baron Ryoval had arrived personally on that scene as promised. It took only one glance at the dusky, contorted expression on Ryoval's youthful face to fill in the rest of the scenario. Miles folded his hands and smiled innocently. "Good morning, Baron. What can I do for you?" "Die, you little mutant!" Ryoval spat. "You! There isn't going to be a bunker deep enough for you to burrow in. I'll put a price on your head that will have every bounty hunter in the galaxy all over you like a second skin - you'll not eat or sleep - I'll have you - " Yes, — Lois McMaster Bujold

What we take for granted can destroy us. Regret becomes a living thing, digging into your skin, seeping into your veins, until it invades your lungs, cutting off your air supply. It has the power to bring you to your knees and make you beg for death. I beg for release from my existence every second of the day. — Alaska Angelini

My style is streamlined, sophisticated and simple, so I usually go for a dress. No matching involved. I am bad at matching! I like easy and when you're done, it looks like a second skin. I wear dresses every day for that reason. It's easy! — Hoda Kotb

It rushes through me, like razor sharp poison, jagged edges catching my skin, tearing me apart on the inside. Everything. Every blissful moment. Every promise. Every kiss. Hug. Word. Touch. Breath. Every single second Ive spent with him, will be gone. I won't know it. — Jessica Sorensen

She revealed her pale face and sniffed again. One red curl clung to her tearstained cheek. My hand reached out to release it, but I hesitated a mere heartbeat away from her skin. I swear to God she quit breathing and even blinking, and for a second so did I. In a deliberate movement, I freed the curl.~Noah — Katie McGarry

A disagreement about what?" The voice belonged to Frost, Doyle's second in command. Other than the fact that they were both tall, physically they were almost opposites. The hair that fell in a glimmering curtain to Frost's ankles was silver, a shimmering metallic silver like Christmas tree tinsel. The skin was as white as my own. The eyes were a soft grey like a winter sky before a storm. His face was angular and arrogantly handsome. His shoulders were a touch broader than Doyle's, but other than that they were both very alike and very unalike. He — Laurell K. Hamilton

A micro-second before our mouths fully touched,when I could feel the heat of his skin,the barest brush of a lip,he glided his nose along my cheek.I gasped at the almost-contact.he exhaled heavily down my throat,an enticing noise escaping his lips,making me shudder.He stayed there,taking two ragged breaths,while I unconsciously melted even more against his body.My Knees turned even more into him,the hand on my lap dropped onto his thigh.I started to turn my head towards his mouth.He smelled so good ... — S.C. Stephens

I can remember every second of that morning, if I shut my eyes I can see the deep blue colour of the sky and the mango leaves, the pink and red hibiscus, the yellow handkerchief she wore around her head, tied in the Martinique fashion with the sharp points in front, but now I see everything still, fixed for ever like the colours in a stained-glass window. Only the clouds move. It was wrapped in a leaf, what she had given me, and I felt it cool and smooth against my skin. — Jean Rhys

But as much as Greyson's overly warm body had to be worked around and compensated for in summer, at that moment she was eternally and ridiculously grateful for it. She almost thought she heard her own skin sizzle when it came into contact with his: some of the cramping in her muscles relaxed.
Only to tense up again when she saw, through her half-closed eyes, Greyson's second gaurd and Malleus's brother, Maleficarum, advancing on her with a hypodermic needle. Something clear squirted ominously from it's sharp silver tip.
"Oh, no," she managed, "You are not giving me a shot."
"'Sonly under the skin, m'lady. You'll barely even feel it, honest." Maleficarum's features did no do "innocent" well: he looked like a serial killer trying to hide a severed head behind his back. — Stacia Kane

It is curious, but till that moment I had never realized what it means to destroy a healthy, conscious man. When I saw the prisoner step aside to avoid the puddle, I saw the mystery, the unspeakable wrongness, of cutting a life short when it is in full tide. This man was not dying, he was alive just as we were alive. All the organs of his body were working - bowels digesting food, skin renewing itself, nails growing, tissues forming - toiling away in solemn foolery. His nails would still be growing when he stood on the drop, when he was falling through the air with a tenth of a second to live. His eyes saw the yellow gravel and the grey walls, and his brain still remembered, foresaw, reasoned - reasoned even about puddles. He and we were a party of men walking together, seeing, hearing, feeling, understanding the same world; and in two minutes, with a sudden snap, one of us would be gone - one mind less, one world less. — George Orwell

Marks's jaw worked beneath the skin, and then he looked beyond my kitchen. "You have a second bedroom. You've invited her." "She doesn't want to lose her condo," I said. Val's eyes widened. "That's what I've told him." "I don't want you living with him! It's fucking weird!" Marks said. "Joel, I'm handling this," Val said. "If you don't want to stick around, I understand. — Jamie McGuire

We'll squeeze every second that we can from our lives, because we're young, and we have plenty of years to grow. We'll grow until we're braver. We'll grow until our bones ache and our skin wrinkles and our hair goes white, and until our hearts decide, at last, that it's time to stop. — Lauren DeStefano

His fingers went to the buttons of his jacket, and her mouth dried. His buttons were simple cloth and metal affairs, scarcely worth a second thought. And yet as he undid them, she had second thoughts and third thoughts, none of them proper. His gloved fingers were long and graceful, and every button he undid revealed another inch of creamy linen, one that hinted at broad shoulders and strong muscles.
He'd not shown her the slightest bit of skin, but the act of unbuttoning his coat sparked indecent thoughts - memories of his arm coming around her, his mouth on hers ...
He stopped undoing buttons, and she realized he'd only wanted to reach the inside pocket. She sat back in disappointment. — Courtney Milan

I was thinking recently, If the body really is the new dress, as some are saying - with women buying boobs, butts, faces - then who needs a dressmaker? So I started designing spring like a plastic surgeon - everything stretchy and nude. But after three weeks, I was so bored with myself and the world, I began adding diamond butterflies and chiffon and colors. I realized that fashion is not about second skin. It's not the perfect white shirt or camel jacket. What women need is a dream. — Alber Elbaz

Feathers," he says.

They ask this question at least once a week. He gives the same answer. Even over such a short time - two months, three? He's lost count - they've accumulated a stock of lore, of conjecture about him: Snowman was once a bird but he's forgotten how to fly and the rest of his feathers fell out, and so he is cold and he needs a second skin, and he has to wrap himself up. No: he's cold because he eats fish, and fish are cold. No: he wraps himself up because he's missing his man thing, and he doesn't want us to see. That's why he won't go swimming. Snowman has wrinkles because he once lived underwater and it wrinkled up his skin. Snowman is sad because the others like him flew away over the sea, and now he is all alone. — Margaret Atwood

Lying can be a second skin, but when you are called out on that lie, it can become all too easy for that skin to start to peel away. — Jillian Cantor

Asher was a vampire. How much more dangerous could he be with a gun? But I couldn't do it. "Let me test my understanding. Is Asher going to ride in the car with us to the meeting?"
I must to give you directions," Asher said.
Then lean against the Jeep." He frowned at me in an amused, condescending sort of way.
Excuse me?"
I don't care if you're the second coming of the Antichrist, you can't sit behind me in my own car until I know you're not carrying a weapon." Asher smiled briliantly at both of us, flashing fang.
... I could rip you into pieces with my bare hands, and you're worried I have a gun?" He chuckled, a low, skin-prickling sound. "That is so very cute. — Laurell K. Hamilton

I'd rather risk screwing up with you than not even try. - Under My Skin — J. Kenner

I grew up in Houston, and I remember we had separate drinking fountains, and black people sat in the balcony of the theater ... We had an African-American housekeeper growing up who was really like my second mother. I thought it was silly - hatred just because of the color of somebody's skin. — Dennis Quaid

Fashion is not about buying a second skin. Fashion is about having a fantasy. — Alber Elbaz

I can't have brown hair for some reason. I don't think it goes with my skin tone. The second I see it turn brown in the sun, I dye it black - the blacker the better. — Kylie Jenner

She smiled and affectionately stepped away, shifting her armor uncomfortably. The leather was still so new, it cut into her flesh. In time, it would mould to her shape and seem a second skin. But that hadn't happened yet. — Kate Danley

But it was the second guy who caught my eye. Like the girl, he, too, paused by the door, seeming even more wary than she looked. The sunlight streaming in through the windows highlighted the rich honey in his dark chocolate brown hair, even as it cast his face in shadow. The tan skin of his arms resembled marble - hard, but smooth and supple at the same time.
He must have passed through the mist spewed up by the fountain outside, because his black T-shirt was wet in places and the damp patches clung to his skin. The wetness allowed me to see just how muscled his chest was. Oh, yeah, I totally ogled that part of him, right up until I spotted the silver cuff on his right wrist.
Given the angle, I couldn't tell what crest was stamped into the metal, but I glanced at the others, who also wore cuffs. I sighed. So they belonged to some Family then. Wonderful. This day just kept getting better. — Jennifer Estep

Every instant of every day we are bombarded by information. In fact, all complex organisms, especially those with brains, suffer from information overload. Our eyes and ears receive lights and sounds (respectively) across the spectrums of visible and audible wavelengths; our skin and the rest of our innervated parts send their own messages of sore muscles or cold feet. All told, every second, our senses transmit an estimated 11 million bits of information to our poor brains, as if a giant fiber-optic cable were plugged directly into them, firing information at full bore. In light of this, it is rather incredible that we are even capable of boredom. — Tim Wu

Recently, the very thought of going to the dance with Grady made Violet's skin itch, as if she might be breaking out in hives-or more likely a bad case of second thoughts. — Kimberly Derting

But life was sometimes unkind, and didn't give second chances. Instead it gave you two choices. You could either curl up and die, or get up and try again. Getting up takes huge amounts of effort. It means bearing down and pushing through the toughest of times, even if you have to create barriers around your heart, and grow an extra layer of skin. But it also gives you a strength you probably never knew you'd possessed. An ember begins to glow. The glow eventually sparks, breathing new flame, which fuels a hope and desire to live. — Cameo Renae

Nothing of the sort. I knew you came from Afghanistan. From long habit the train of thoughts ran so swiftly through my mind, that I arrived at the conclusion without being conscious of intermediate steps. There were such steps, however. The train of reasoning ran, 'Here is a gentleman of a medical type, but with the air of a military man. Clearly an army doctor, then. He has just come from the tropics, for his face is dark, and that is not the natural tint of his skin, for his wrists are fair. He has undergone hardship and sickness, as his haggard face says clearly. His left arm has been injured. He holds it in a stiff and unnatural manner. Where in the tropics could an English army doctor have seen much hardship and got his arm wounded? Clearly in Afghanistan.' The whole train of thought did not occupy a second. I then remarked that you came from Afghanistan, and you were astonished. — Arthur Conan Doyle

More than anything, I'd like to go to a park today. I want to sit in a swing, drink chocolate milk, and not think about anything in the world except the pleasure of that moment. I want to know what a normal life feels like because I can't remember anymore. I want to drag my feet on the ground as I swing back and forth. I want to feel the fresh, spring chi on my skin. I'm very tempted to get out my Halloween decorations today because looking at them always gives me a little burst of excitement. I can't, though, because I have a rule: No Halloween decorations before June 21. That's the summer solstice, so after that we're officially in the second half of the year.
Another rule I abide by is no peppermint until November 1. I only eat peppermint between November 1 and January 6, because that keeps it special. If you don't do things like that in here, then there's nothing to look forward to. — Damien Echols

Every time she saw a videotape of the planes she moved a finger toward the power button on the remote. Then she kept on watching. The second plane coming out of that ice blue sky, this was the footage that entered the body, that seemed to run beneath her skin, the fleeting sprint that carried lives and histories, theirs and hers, everyone's, into some distance, out beyond the towers. — Don DeLillo

For every man there is something in the vocabulary that would stick to him like a second skin. His enemies have only to find it. — Ambrose Bierce

I shut my eyes and try not to squeal. 'Get the maggots off me!'
Raffe brushes them off, but it feels like they're still crawling on my skin.
'So you do scream like a little girl,' says Raffe with some satisfaction in his voice. I open my eyes a second too soon, because I catch him tossing the severed hand into the sand — Susan Ee

Jonah peels off his wet shirt and spreads it out on the ground in the sun. For a second, all Hallelujah can see is his bare skin. She blushes and looks away, not turning back until she hears the zip of his jacket closing. Now he's looking at her. She doesn't know if he caught her staring. — Kathryn Holmes

Somebody up there is deuced mad at me," she yelled, "and I want to know why!"
The heavens opened in earnest and within seconds she was soaked to the skin.
"Remind me never to question Your purposes again," she muttered ungraciously, not sounding particularly like the God-fearing young lady her father had raised her to be. "Clearly You don't like to be second-guessed."
Lightning streaked through the sky, followed by a booming clap of thunder.
"Damn!" she grunted, her bonnet sagged against her eyes, blocking her vision. She yanked it off, looked at the sky, and yelled, "I am not amused!"
More lightning.
"They are all against me," she muttered,"All of them." Her father, Sally Foxglove,
Mr. Tibbett, whoever it was who controlled the weather
More thunder. — Julia Quinn

My werewolf ... my second skin ...
When the moon is on the rise,
I go naked into night.
I am never dressed to kill. — January Valentine

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

To be honest, I don't know what qualities you ever saw in him. I can tell why he chose you, but-"
"Oh yeah?" Cara's spirits lifted as she sensed a compliment coming on. "Why do you think he chose me?"
"It's obvious." He swept a hand to indicate her loose curls. "Your long, shiny hair, healthy skin, and bright eyes show that you're well-nourished."
"Uh, thank you?"
"I'm not finished."
"Go on then."
"You're clearly intelligent." Then he felt the need to add, "For a human."
"Gee. That's so sweet."
"But Eric was probably most attracted to your wait-to-hip ratio." For a split second, Aelyx resembled a human boy as he leaned back and peered at her caboose. "Hips of that width are likely to pass life offspring without complication."
Cara nearly swallowed her own tongue. She didn't have big hips did she? — Melissa Landers

I couldn't see who swam in the darkness, who wore shadows like a second skin. — Rachel Vincent

Race is a lie built on a lie. The first lie is that people are different, somehow skin color or hair texture is more significant than eye color, or the shape of one's feet. The second lie built on top of that is that there's a hierarchy that more significant difference, the color showing up as brown on your skin rather than brown in your hair, or whatever, is somehow more significant and there's some sort of hierarchy. That the lighter you are, the straighter your hair, the better you are. — Benjamin Jealous

Now that I've got this to keep me safe off the island," I said very quietly, "what's to stop me from having Alfred drop you into a cell right this second, and solving my problems myself?" "I am," Mab said. She gave me a very small, very chill smile, and held up her finger. There was a tiny droplet of my blood upon it, scarlet against her pale skin. — Jim Butcher

Her eyes traveled down the black T-shirt he wore. Pfft, he might as well be naked. It clung to him like a second skin giving her a clear view of lean, hard muscles. She licked her lips. Gods, what it would feel like to be his T-shirt. She was positive if he turned around his ass would be considered a lethal weapon in those jeans. — Valerie Twombly

with the pleasure of deep, hungry kisses, his hands slipped under her top to find bare skin. Mia was shy, but when she kissed him, their combined heat and need burst into fire in seconds. He didn't know how he'd survived this long without passing second base, didn't know how much longer he could stand to wait. Mia — Claudia Connor

His gaze dropped down to the deep V of her cherry-red top and the pulse in his temple pulsed. For a second she didn't think he was going to say anything, which was good because she'd just forgotten her own name. His focus inched northward across her generous cleavage, up her neck and to her lips -- leaving a heated trail across her skin without ever making a move. The last dry spot on her panties surrendered. — Avery Flynn

It feels like I'm trapped in quicksand. The more I struggle, the more I sink. So I stop struggling. I stop trying to free myself; because the more I struggle the scarier it becomes. Then - and only then did panic yield long enough for a numbness to spread and stick to me like a second skin. — Jannet Casas

I tried to smile back, but I was trying not to stare at the ribbon of skin that was showing beneath his T-shirt as he bent over. As usual, my mouth went a little dry and my breathing sped up, and that weird, almost sad feeling settled in my stomach. I never thought I'd be glad to hear Vandy's braying voice, but when she shouted, 'All right! That's it for today!' I could have kissed her.
Well, on second thought, no. Maybe a firm handshake. — Rachel Hawkins

Taking Root

I am no stranger to roots. In third grade, I punctured
a sweet potato's middle with toothpicks, suspended
it halfway in a cup of water until sprout-like whiskers

swam along its bottom. On day nine leaves crowned it.
I scooped out soil with my hands and buried it up
to its neck. I've laid down my own in places

where corn and tomatoes grow in vacant lots,
where cilantro and basil thrive on window sills
and in cities balanced on ancestor's bones.

Roots are hardy travelers, adaptable: they float
on water, cohere to wood, burrow deep beneath
foundations, challenge floorboards.

from Second Skin — Diana Anhalt

Shadowhunters," he said. "They get in your blood, under your skin. I've been with vampires, werewolves, faeries, warlocks like me - and humans, so many fragile humans. But I always told myself I wouldn't give my heart to a Shadowhunter. I've so nearly loved them, been charmed by them - generations of them, sometimes: Edmund and Will and James and Lucie ... the ones I saved and the ones I couldn't." His voice choked off for a second, and Luke, staring in amazement, realized that this was the most of Magnus Bane's real, true emotions that he had ever seen. "And Clary, too, I loved, for I watched her grow up. But I've never been in love with a Shadowhunter, not until Alec. For they have the blood of angels in them, and the love of angels is a high and holy thing. — Cassandra Clare

We live on the thin skin of a planet that rotates at about a thousand miles an hour, travels sixty-six thousand miles an hour around a gigantic gas fire, in a galaxy of a billion more wild fires moving at 1.3 trillion miles an hour across a barely comprehendible Universe. Forget the mission of the Starship Enterprise; we are unwitting galactic explorers traveling into uncharted territory at terrifying speed in every second of our existence. Cataclysmic events can happen at any moment. — Larry J. Dunlap

I thought of how proud he was when he took the marks- cutting the skin of his throat in a long slash and then packing it with ashes until keloid scars rose up.
He called it his second smile. — Holly Black

For a second his dark eyes are on mine, and he's quiet. Then he touches my face and leans in close, brushing my lips with his. The river roars and I feel its spray on my ankles. He grins and presses his mouth to mine. I tense up at first, unsure of myself, so when he pulls away, I'm sure I did something wrong, or badly. But he takes my face in his hands, his fingers strong against my skin, and kisses me again, firmer this time, more certain. I wrap an arm around him, sliding my hand up his neck and into his short hair. — Veronica Roth

You know the saying? Don't go in if you don't have a skin. — Jackie Williams

Beneath me, the bed tipped as Cole edged closer. I felt him lean over me. His breath, warm and measured, hit my cheek. Two breaths. Three. Four. I didn't know what I wanted. Then I heard him stop breathing, and a second later, I felt his lips on my mouth.
It wasn't the sort of kiss I'd had with anyone before. This kiss was so soft it was like a memory of a kiss, so careful on my lips that it was like someone running his fingers along them. My mouth parted and stilled; it was so quiet, a whisper, not a shout. Cole's hand touched my neck, thumb pressed into the skin next to my jaw. It wasn't a touch that said I need more. It was a touch that said I want this.
It was all completely soundless. I didn't think either of us was breathing.
Cole sat back up, slowly, and I opened my eyes. His expression, as ever, was blank, the face he wore when something mattered.
He said, That's how I would kiss you, if I loved you. — Maggie Stiefvater

When we entered the material world, God lent us a body to act as a vessel and encase our souls. Our body is our temple and, miraculously, it is in a state of constant renewal.
Fat cells are replaced at the rate of 10% each year. Skin cells are renewed every two to four weeks. Our 9,000 taste buds are renewed every 10-14 days. Our skeleton is renewed every two years. Every day billions of cells replace the ones that came before them. We are in this miracle of creation and renewal every second of our lives ... unless we mess up that renewal.
God not only gave us a constantly renewing body, but he also provided a profoundly rich, diverse and constantly-renewing food supply. — Celso Cukierkorn

There are those whose primary ability is to spin wheels of manipulation. It is their second skin and without these spinning wheels, they simply do not know how to function. They are like toys on wheels of manipulation and control. If you remove one of the wheels, they'll never be able to feel secure, be whole. — C. JoyBell C.

She'd just watched Tristan McLean, her cool suave movie star dad, reduced to near insanity. Leo could barely stand to watch that, but for Piper - Wow, Leo couldn't even imagine. He figured that would make her insecure about herself, too. If weakness was inherited, she'd be wondering, could she break down the same way her dad did? "Hey, don't worry," Leo said. "Piper, you're the strongest, most powerful beauty queen I've ever met. You can trust yourself. For what it's worth, you can trust me too." The helicopter dipped in a wind shear, and Leo almost jumped out of his skin. He cursed and righted the chopper. Piper laughed nervously. "Trust you, huh?" "Ah, shut up, already." But he grinned at her, and for a second, it felt like he was just relaxing comfortably with a friend. Then they hit the storm clouds. — Rick Riordan

She clutched him, her fingers digging in like she needed to gather parts of him to act as her own second skin for the rest of her life. — Melina Marchetta

As a child, growing up in Hampstead, North London, I was shockingly fair-skinned. Holidays involved me spending the second and third day face-down on a bed, shrieking should anyone touch my blistered skin. — Jane Green

The radiation was worse by far. I had bandages all over my head. I looked like a mummy. On the side of my head and neck and down to my collarbone, I had second-degree burns. My skin blistered and peeled before it grew back. That was the worst part of it. — Bob McNair

Goldilocks in the flesh. He zoned out for a second, lost in the smooth texture of her skin, so he had zero time to react when the bikini top flying through the air hit him in the chest ...
She contemplated the ground for a second. "I'd like my top back, please."
"I don't know," he teased. "It could be construed as a deadly weapon. — Robin Bielman

Only great pain, the long, slow pain that takes its time ... compels us to descend to our ultimate depths ... I doubt that such pain makes us "better"; but I know it makes us more profound ... In the end, lest what is most important remain unsaid: from such abysses, from such severe sickness, one returns newborn, having shed one's skin ... with merrier senses, with a second dangerous innocence in joy, more childlike and yet a hundred times subtler than one has ever been before. — Friedrich Nietzsche

I'd never made love with anyone but Nico. This thought occurred to me as we were lying in my bed, touching each other. Touching is the difference between making love and having sex. The physical act of making love expresses the desire to touch someone and to be touched in return. A hunger for your partner consumes you. It's an insatiable craving. It's a need for his skin, his hands, his mouth; it's a need to see his eyes. It must be fed every second or else it builds into something unmanageably urgent and ferocious. — Penny Reid

After living in Smokey Hollow these three months my bearded face was darkened to a tan, and for more than a moment, I couldn't tell what color I was. Black is what I saw and what I expected to see. I grabbed a towel and rubbed to get a clear look. No, I was white. At least my skin was. I had been through so much with my family here, and all I had seen was black faces, that I forgot for a split second that I wasn't black too. For weeks after the flood in the bathroom, I remembered the morning I forgot my skin color. — Peter Jenkins

Once she was separated from the cockles & clams, she found herself miraculously transformed into a Goddess. But she found herself different from the Goddesses & Nymphs of the sea because of the girdle. It clung to her body as a second skin, or as the shell clung to the cockle, & she had never been able to take it off. And thus, she herself had never known what she hid beneath the girdle. — Nicholas Chong

I think by that time I knew where Chewie was going, and he left me to do what was called for, because the character had been well established. You know, it was like putting on a second skin by that time. — Peter Mayhew

What I know, brother, is you break every goddamned rule for Mac."
"Back at you, Ry. Difference is, I'll help you do it."
"Lor has never been Pri-ya." Ryodan shakes his head in disgust. "The princess can't turn us. Son of a bitch, Mac's ass is - "
"Mine," Barrons says flatly. "You will never go there. You have a problem with Mac, you work it out with me. I am her shield, I am her second fucking skin. — Karen Marie Moning

She faced Chaol. The wind ripped a few strands of hair from her braid, and she tucked them behind her ears.
"No matter what happens," she said quietly, "I want to thank you."
Chaol tilted his head to the side. "For what?" Her eyes stung, but she blamed it on the fierce wind and blinked away the dampness.
"For making my freedom mean something." He didn't say anything; he just took the fingers of her right hand and held them in his, his thumb brushing the ring she wore.
"Let the second duel commence," the king boomed, waving a hand toward the veranda. Chaol squeezed her hand, his skin warm in the frigid air.
"Give him hell," he said. — Sarah J. Maas

You actually believe that you have no effect on me huh? You think that I don't actually feel the need you do. I find it hard to think about you without feeling insanely hungry. I have thought about your body every f$$king day since I got my first taste. I control my hunger for you but it is there Sam. Every damn second it is there. I told you that you are under my skin and I meant it. I crave you so badly. Your soft skin, feeling your body and the taste of you, Sam you are so addicting. I want you so badly and today not being able to make love to you drove me out of my mind. I want to bury myself deep inside of you and forget about everything else. — C.A. Harms

It's hard to have a serious conversation with you when you're wearin' lighted cocks on your head."
AJ defiantly thrust out her chin and the penises bobbled. "We aren't having a conversation. You're give me tough-guy attitude. If you won't acknowledge me in public, you don't have the right to chastise me for anything I do in public or in private. And now you lost the right to do anything to me in private either, bucko."
"Quit bein' so goddamm childish."
Her eyes narrowed to silver slits. "Quit bein' such a goddamn dickhead."
"You're the one with dicks on your head, baby doll."
"Yeah? I can take mine off any old time I please, but you wear your dickhead like a second skin. Or should I say as a second foreskin? — Lorelei James

- What are you doing now? - I'm under my covers - Alone? - y - A crime - I smiled, and the feeling of levity cracked the brittle shell of sorrow, if only for a second, and tears streamed down my face. - Don't make me laugh, fuckhead - May I join you under those lucky covers? - When I read the message, I didn't feel his request in my loins, but on my skin. I wanted him to touch me. Kiss me. Breathe on me. Talk to me. Hold me for hours. The desire wasn't just between my legs, but in my rib cage, my marrow, my fingertips. Could I give up the consuming protection of loneliness and indulge in a few hours with Jonathan? Was I worthy of a little comfort? Probably not. And I hadn't forgotten the submissive thing. No. He was going to drag me into a pit of defilement and humiliation. Seeing him would only draw him closer to me than he should be, ever. I texted: - I need you - I hit send. I shouldn't have. — C.D. Reiss

He kissed the spot where her neck and shoulder joined. The first kiss was light and chaste. With the second kiss, he used his teeth to hold her still while the tip of his tongue caressed and tasted her skin. He could feel her heart pounding, feel each breathy pant. Leaving a trail of soft kisses up her neck, he finally whispered in her ear, You're not too young anymore. — Anne Bishop

Underwear is the female second skin. — Chloe Thurlow

I was looking into a darkened hallway, lined with a washing machine and dryer, and a few brooms and mops held in clamps on the wall. I put a hand on the doorknob and turned very slowly and quietly. It was unlocked. I took a deep breath - - and very nearly fell out of my skin as a horrible, shattering scream came from inside. It was the sound of anguish and horror and such a clear call for help that even Disinterested Dexter moved reflexively forward, and I had one foot actually inside the house when a tiny little question mark scuttled across the floor of my brain and I thought, I've heard that scream before. And as my second foot moved forward, farther into the house, I thought, Really? Where? The answer came quite quickly, which was comforting: it was the same scream that was on the "New Miami" videos that Weiss had made. - which meant that it was a recorded scream. - which meant it was intended to lure me inside. - which meant that Weiss was ready and waiting for me. — Jeff Lindsay

I can't do this with you again and then watch you go," she admitted, her breathing ragged. Her skin tingled all over where their bodies touched and it felt as if it were over a thousand degrees in the house. — Samantha Chase

One day I saw something very strange, people walking around who looked like they had come directly from the grave, their skin was so pale. Mzungus. They carried a black machine that flashed bright when they pointed it at me. I screamed. I thought the machine was going to harm me, and so I fled. Later I learned it was a camera. Its flash and their voices terrified me. We didn't see them often, less than once in a year. But whenever I saw them, I ran and hid.
I had many ideas about them; first, I did not expect them to be smart, because they loved to take pictures of silly things like chickens on the street, shanties, and other things that were not interesting. Second, since I had seen a kid touching their skin and shouting, "How are you?," for many years I believed the name for all white people was "How are you?" I touched their skin as well and found it soft, but I was surprised and a bit disappointed because I thought touching it would leave a mark on my skin too. — Kennedy Odede

When I hold him for just a second, like this, and feel how soft his skin is. How furry he is in front, and so big too. It's sort of like hugging a really lovely bear, only without the word in there that I'm absolutely not doing. I'm not hugging him, all right? — Charlotte Stein

I was very upset at how his skin was peeling off so badly anywhere, but nobody gave it a second thought. They told me it was 'normal'.
Of course this was far from normal. There was no way they could have known about EB (Epidermolysis Bullosa) back then considering the rarity of the disorder. The only way to diagnose EB it is through a skin biopsy, and they would need to suspect EB to send it to the correct lab. It would not be until Nicky was born 21 months later that every Doctor imaginable was all of a sudden extremely interested in seeing photos of Alex. "Oh yeah" the dermatologist that diagnosed Nicky and Doctor McGuire at Stanford said to me unequivocally, "Alex for sure had EB." How EB could have caused his demise though is still a mystery. Doctor Marinkovich at Stanford told me that many babies with EB are indeed stillborn, but could not tell me why. At this point however, in the delivery room, we were completely oblivious about EB and would remain so for nearly two years — Silvia Corradin

I'm often asked how I take the criticism directed my way. I have three answers: First, if you choose to be in public life, remember Eleanor Roosevelt's advice and grow skin as thick as a rhinoceros. Second, learn to take criticism seriously but not personally. Your critics can actually teach you lessons your friends can't or won't. I try to sort out the motivation for criticism, whether partisan, ideological, commercial, or sexist, analyze it to see what I might learn from it, and discard the rest. Third, there is a persistent double standard applied to women in politics - regarding clothes, body types, and of course hairstyles - that you can't let derail you. Smile and keep going. — Hillary Rodham Clinton

The boy swelled up, and his skin filled with pockets of blood. In some places, the skin almost separated from the underlying tissue. This happened during the last phase, while he was on the respirator. It is called third spacing. If you bleed into the first space, you bleed into your lungs. If you bleed into the second space, you bleed into your stomach and intestines. If you bleed into the third space, you bleed into the space between the skin and the flesh. The skin puffs up and separates from the flesh like a bag. Peter Cardinal had bled out under his skin. — Richard Preston

No season lives here. This space has quite successfully shut out any such interference. The cunning designer saw to it that there is not even a mirror in which the reader might contemplate his own appearance or anxiously search for the marks of age. The climate is grammatical. Nothing here but books, as if I were swaddled in them, as if the porous walls of books were by now almost a second skin. Or as if they provided a padding like the walls of madhouses, a cushion constructed of the language of the dead. — Geoffrey O'Brien

Mr. Darcy is a construct designed to make woman feel bad about the partners that they're capable of attracting versus the fantasized image he presents. — Caitlin Kittredge

The blindness lasts just a second, then the colors start flooding into me: not through my eyes but right through my skin, replacing blood and bone, muscle and sinew, until I am redorangebluegreenpurpleyellowredorangebluegreenpurpleyellow. — Jandy Nelson

She shifted, bringing them closer. The blanket slipped down to her waist, revealing a blue tee shirt that shouldn't have been sexy, but fit her curves like a second skin and molded her perfect breasts. Their breath mingled. The air charged around them. Their gazes met and locked.
Then Lucas sealed his fate and dropped his gaze to her parted lips.
"I don't want to be alone tonight," she whispered. — Jennifer Lowery