She Cuts Quotes & Sayings

I know a girl who cries when she practices violin because each note sounds so pure it just cuts into her, and then the melody comes pouring out her eyes. Now, to me, everything else just sounds like a lie. — Conor Oberst

Fear cuts deeper than swords, she — George R R Martin

As soon as she sees me she swings forward and hits a key on her keyboard. The music cuts off instantly. Strangely, the silence that follows seems just as loud. — Lauren Oliver

Hey," he says.
I feel foolish for being out of breath and standing over him. The moonlight cuts a line down my chest. "Hey," I say.
"Checking on me?"
"I couldn't sleep. Scottie. She's in the bathroom." I stop talking.
"Yeah?" he says and sits up.
"She's playacting." I don't know how to say it. I don't need to say it. "She's kissing the mirror."
"Oh," he says. "I used to do some messed-up things as a kid. Still do."
I feel wide awake, which always makes me angry in the middle of the night. I'm useless without sleep. I can't get myself to go back to my own room. I sit on the end of the bed by his feet. "I'm worried about my daughters," I say. "I'm worried there's something wrong with them."
Sid rubs his eyes.
"Forget it," I say. "Sorry for waking you up."
"It's going to get worse," he says. "After your wife dies." He holds the blanket up to his chin. — Kaui Hart Hemmings

Her face was as red as her hair. "What are you doing," she cried.
Devon put a question mark next to the sentence. "Editing your paper." What did it look like he was doing?
"You're just cutting out stuff!"
"What do you think editing is? — M.M. John

I can feel her hunger, can see the want in her eyes. Her teeth grow sharp - sharp enough to eat me. And she wants to. She lets me see it, lets me feel the churning hunger that is so like rage. It gasps and begs in her stomach, the way my frenzy cuts and spirals in my chest. — Tessa Gratton

It still hurts," she whispered. "Even when you're doing it for someone else, that doesn't stop your ribs from getting cracked, or your wrist swelling, or your cuts from bleeding. — Jodi Picoult

In the farthest corner of the third floor, Jonto - Emery's skeletal paper butler - hung by a noose from a nail in the ceiling, hovering over a mess of rolled paper tubes, tape, and symmetrical cuts of paper. Emery, wearing his newest coat, a maroon-colored one, stood on a stool beside him, affixing a six-foot-long bat wing to Jonto's spine.

Ceony blinked, taking in the sight. She really shouldn't be surprised.

"I thought I had a few more years before I saw the angel of death," she said, folding her arms under her breasts. "Even just half of him. — Charlie N. Holmberg

It has nothing to do with [Renee] being a female or not, it has to do with her being the right person for the job. She's got a great voice that cuts through the clutter. She is very knowledgeable about WWE, about its history, about the talent and she is really willing to step up and do her homework. I think you're going to see her grow. You're going to see her jump on this challenge to become a regular fixture and a regular voice and, hopefully, maybe one day the voice of WWE. — Triple H

Do you believe, she went on, that the past dies?
Yes, said Margaret. Yes, if the present cuts its throat. — Leonora Carrington

Dana raised her head, opened her eyes, and looked at Brandon a long time before speaking. Her gaze moved down to his hands. She lurched out of her seat and clutched Brandon's arms. "Tell me what happened in there!" She touched his palms with the tips of her fingers. "Where did these come from?"
He looked at his arms and hands. Thin cuts lined them. They weren't deep but they stung like alcohol had been poured into them. "There was a bit of a battle. It's okay." He smiled at her. "It was worth it. You're worth it. — James L. Rubart

Cold fingers walked down Arya's neck. Fear cuts deeper than swords, she reminded herself. — George R R Martin

I may remember you, Scarlet," he bellowed, backing up when she grabbed her fork and held it out like a dagger. She'd murdered men with less. Even immortals. "But you haven't haunted me." Motions stiff, he raised his shirt. Amid the cuts, above his heart, was a tattoo of eyes. Dark eyes. Like hers. "Don't you see? You ... haven't ... haunted ... me. — Gena Showalter

She closed her eyes and tried to imagine sex entering the picture. Would sex enter the picture in a silk robe, or would it be as nude as a platter of cold cuts? Would sex enter the picture from the left or the right? Would it ring first, or would it just slide in slyly, too quick and slippery to be denied; or, would sex barge in forcibly, red-faced and green-bereted, pushing all other things aside? — Tom Robbins

She reached for the milk and honey soap, then poured it into the puff, but when she started washing him with it, he chuckled.
"Uh, sweetheart?"
"Hmm?" Candice mumbled as she stared at some interesting spot on his arm.
"Real men don't use puffs," he said, amused and turned on by having Candice's undivided attention.
She finally managed to drag her gaze away from his forearm and stared at him as if he'd lost his mind. "You can't be serious?" When he only shrugged, she rolled her eyes. "What does it matter what I use, so long as you're clean?"
"It matters, believe me." Blade knew he sounded absurd but he couldn't help it. It was bad enough he'd let her put bandages on a few measly cuts; if word got out he'd let her use a peach-colored puff and milk-and-honey bath soap he'd never hear the end of it.
A man had to put his foot down somewhere. — Anne Rainey

The white feminist becomes the CEO. The black feminist becomes the exiled rebel. The white feminist speaks about teaching literacy like i should thank her, hold her hand, kiss her for teaching children of darker skin. The black feminist should be grateful. The black feminist wears her natural hair, she is called 'too rebellious'. The white feminist cuts her hair, she is brave. The white feminist gets featured on TIME. The black feminist is the fine print. — Ijeoma Umebinyuo

From her pocket she pulled a tiny snowflake, the one she had stowed there after her first day as a Folder. She rubbed her thumb over its tiny, delicate cuts, grateful she hadn't yet washed this particular skirt. The snowflake still felt frosty, just like real snow. Snow he had made for her. All of it had been for her in one way or another, hadn't it?
In the glow of the candlelight she said, "I have to do it. I have to save him."
For she knew no one else would. — Charlie N. Holmberg

She told him ... how her heart had fairly skipped a beat when she'd seen him standing in the middle of the road dressed as a true Highland warrior.
"If I hadna been in love wi' you already, I'd have fallen in love wi' you then."
He grinned, his whiskery face unbearably bonnie even with its cuts and bruises. "So you like the sight of me in a pladdie, aye?"
"Aye
and wi' braids in your hair." She leaned down and kissed him. "But I think red paint looks silly. — Pamela Clare

It was as bad as the summer that her mother had taken the training wheels off Coraline's bicycle;but then, back then, in with all the cuts and scrapes (her knees had scabs on top of scabs) she had had a feeling of achievement. She was learning something, doing something she had not known how to do. Now she felt nothing but cold loss. She had failed the ghost children. She had failed her parents. She had failed herself, failed everything. — Neil Gaiman

You got secrets you better keep
Take flight before she cuts you deep
- Sam's song — Helen Boswell

The Crocodile The sun of the Macusi people was worried. Every day there were fewer fish in their ponds. He put the crocodile in charge of security. The ponds got emptier. The crocodile, security guard and thief, invented a good story about invisible assailants, but the sun didn't believe it, took a machete, and left the crocodile's body all crisscrossed with cuts. To calm him down, the crocodile offered his beautiful daughter in marriage. "I'll be expecting her," said the sun. As the crocodile had no daughter, he sculpted a woman in the trunk of a wild plum tree. "Here she is," he said, and plunged into the water, looking out of the corner of his eye, the way he always looks. It was the woodpecker who saved his life. Before the sun arrived, the woodpecker pecked at the wooden girl below the belly. Thus she, who was incomplete, was open for the sun to enter. (112) — Eduardo Galeano

I kid the Republicans, with love. I feel bad for them. They got nobody for next time. Who are they gonna run? Sara Palin, reading off her hand. Did you see that? You saw this? She wrote tax cuts on her hand. A Republican so stupid she has to be reminded of the one thing- Tax cuts! This is like if you saw the coyote's paw and it said Road Runner. — Bill Maher

For a moment, Meg couldn't think, could barely breathe as a drawing of a cow with arrows pointing to the various cuts of meat popped into her head. Then she imagined a drawing of a human with the same kinds of arrows. Could there be a sign like that in the butcher shop? — Anne Bishop

Blade, she thought. I swallowed it; now cuts my loins forever. Punishment. Married to a Jew and shacking up with a German assassin. She felt tears again in her eyes, boiling. For all I have committed. Wrecked. 'Let's go,' she said, rising to her feet. 'The hairdresser. — Philip K. Dick

When the Sovereign pushed against me, I bent like Gold should, with grace, with dignity. But now she cuts at me, and beneath the grace, beneath the aplomb, her knife will strike iron. We make for Mars, and for war. — Pierce Brown

CONJUGATE THIS:
I cut class, you cut class, he, she, it cuts class. We cut class, they cut class. We all cut class. I cannot say this in Spanish because I did not go to Spanish today. Gracias a dios. Hasta luego. — Laurie Halse Anderson

Mother took the pie out of the oven and it hissed fragrant apple, maple, cinnamon steam through the knife cuts in the top crust. She was making her world beautiful. She was making her world delicious. It could be done, and if anyone could do it, she could. — J.J. Brown

Claire, I-Look, my life is one long series of screw-ups and bad decisions, and I know that. I own that. But you ... I just want you to be happy. And it cuts me when you're not."
"I'm happy with you."
She heard the smile in his voice this time. "So what do you really want? A storybook life in Vampireville, with your life on the line every day and a half?"
"I'm considering it," she said. And she was. — Rachel Caine

I have discovered, passionate grief does not link us with the dead but cuts us off from them. This becomes clearer and clearer. It is just at those moments when I feel least sorrow - getting into my morning bath is usually one of them - that H. rushes upon my mind in her full reality, her otherness. Not, as in my worst moments, all foreshortened and patheticized and solemnized by my miseries, but as she is in her own right. This is good and tonic. — C.S. Lewis

Pam went to the refrigerator and started piling some cold cuts and cheese on the table. "Katie, honey, hand me that bread over there," she said, pointing to the counter behind me.
I handed it to her and she smiled.
"Holt, I'm making your father a sandwich. Do you want one?"
"I'm starved," he said.
"You just ate!" I exclaimed.
"You ate all my bacon," he accused.
"I did not!" I laughed, reaching in for a slice of bread and throwing it at him.
He snagged it out of the air and took a huge bite.
Holt's dad grinned. "I like this one, son. Better not let her go."
"I don't plan on it," he said, giving me a meaningful stare.
I felt my cheeks heat and I made myself busy putting together a sandwich for him.
"Katie, make one for you too," Pam said, handing me the mayo.
"Oh, no. That bacon really filled me up." I grinned slyly. — Cambria Hebert

From somewhere Marla heard a terrifying scream
her scream
and she lunged at Martin, hitting him in the chest. When she hit him once, she couldn't stop. All of those times he had hurt her, and all of those times she had lied for him, protecting him so no one would find out. After all, he was a professional man, a doctor. He could be ruined if something like that got out. The good, kind doctor. He took care of people. He took care of her. She was one of those pitiful, unfortunate people who seemed to always have accidents. Bruises on her face and body, cuts and abrasions. It was so nice she was married to such a good doctor. Everyone admired him
auch a wonderful man. But he didn't hurt them. Only her. And now, Gale. — Barbara Casey

In the dark room she sits and in front of her is a plate and on the plate lies a black hunk of bread the size of a deck of cards. The bread has sawdust in it, and cardboard. She takes a knife and a fork, and cuts it slowly into four pieces. She eats one, chews it deliberately, pushes it with difficulty through her dry throat. eats another and another and finally the last one. She lingers especially on the last one. She knows after this piece is gone there will be no more food until tommorow morning. She wishes she could be strong enough to save half of the bread until dinner, but she isn't, she can't. When she looks up from her plate, her sister Dasha, is staring at her. Her plate is long empty.
" I wish Alexander was coming back" says Dasha. " He might have food for us"
I wish Alexander was coming back, thinks Tatiana. — Paullina Simons

She looked at them with shining eyes. Her chin went up. She said:
"You regard it as impossible that a sinner should be struck down
by the wrath of God! I do not!"
The judge stroked his chin. He murmured in a slightly ironic voice:
"My dear lady, in my experience of ill-doing, Providence leaves the work
of conviction and chastisement to us mortals-and the process is often
fraught with difficulties. There are no short cuts. — Agatha Christie

Mrs Islam is what you call a respectable type." Nazneen tried a snore.
"Razia, on the other hand, I would not call a respectable type. I'm not saying anything against her. But what is her background? Her husband does some menial sort of job. He is uneducated. He is probably illiterate. Perhaps he can write his name. If he can't write his name, he will put a cross. Razia cuts her hair like a tramp. Perhaps she calls it fashion. I don't know. Her son is roaming around the estate like a vagabond, throwing stones and what have you. When I spoke to him he put his fingers in his nose, like this, and made a face like this. — Rohinton Mistry

I envy the table its scars, the scorch marks caused by the hot bread tins. I envy its calm sense of time, and I wish I could say: I did this five years ago. I made this mark, this ring caused by a wet coffee cup, this cigarette burn, this ladder of cuts against the wood's coarse grain. This is where Anouk carved her initials, the year she was six years old, this secret place behind the table leg. I did this on a warm day seven summers ago with the carving knife. Do you remember? Do you remember the summer the river ran dry? Do you remember? I envy the table's calm sense of place. It has been here a long time. It belongs. — Joanne Harris

Phil Gramm had a stump speech about how his mother's devotion kept him from being an academic failure in life. She got him into a special school that turned him around - under a government program for the children of deceased veterans. He was repeatedly asked at press conferences why he would then turn around and support draconian cuts in federal funding for education. He never had an answer. — Gail Collins

The door slams in response, and I laugh. I'm glad she can laugh. It means she really is coping. I know she's internalizing a lot, though. Putting on a show for me. She'll have new scars on her wrists soon. — Jasinda Wilder

Loss of self-esteem Beverly Engel, in The Emotionally Abused Woman (1990), describes the effect of emotional abuse on self-esteem: Emotional abuse cuts to the very core of a person, creating scars that may be longer-lasting than physical ones. With emotional abuse, the insults, insinuations, criticism, and accusations slowly eat away at the victim's self-esteem until she is incapable of judging the situation realistically. She has become so beaten down emotionally that she blames herself for the abuse. Emotional abuse victims can become so convinced that they are worthless that they believe that no one else could want them. They stay in abusive situations because they believe they have nowhere else to go. Their ultimate fear is being all alone. — Paul Mason

She used to be afraid of him catching her looking at him, but not anymore. It's funny how quickly the tables turn in the game of vulnerability. She had believed he'd had the power to hurt her. The reality is that it cuts both ways. His fear, her fear, they were sourced from the same place - both wanted to be loved, yet neither one was able to fully admit it. There was too much doubt, not enough trust to allow them to take that final step. — Vivian Winslow

The teacher not only shapes the expectations and ambitions of her pupils, but she also influences their attitudes toward their future and themselves. If she is unskilled, she leaves scars on the lives of youth, cuts deeply into their self-esteem, and distorts their image of themselves as human beings. But if she loves her students and has high expectations of them, their self-confidence will grow, their capabilities will develop, and their future will be assured. — Thomas S. Monson

They say that when a woman wants to end a relationship, she cuts off all of her hair. I've done that twice in my marriage but am still married. — Leslie Mann

She didn't know that my heart was a sandstorm waiting to open her skin in a desert of cuts. She didn't know the animal that waited in my stomach, silently shredding the walls. For her, my heart wore small white shoes and carried a purse, went to bed early. I wanted to shoot myself into her arms so she understood the need to crash cars with me, to tear up pavement because we were beautiful. — Michelle Tea

Yeah. I know why she cuts. I just don't know the seed-reason. It's deep inside her, and it'll take time and patience to get it out of her. — Jasinda Wilder

Jacob remained by Mollie's side throughout the night, clinging to her hand as well as to her vow. She wasn't going to leave him. She'd given her word, and Mollie never broke a promise. He prayed. He tended the cuts she'd suffered from the blackberry brambles when she'd fallen. The vines had grown entangled within a cedar's branches, and as best he could tell, she'd climbed the tree in order to reach the ripe berries that other pickers had left behind. Unfortunately, the limb she'd shimmied out on had been weak and had broken beneath her weight. "You know, this tree climbing and dropping through busted church floors is going to have to stop after we're married. My heart won't be able to take the stress." He smiled and ran the back of his finger down the smooth line of her cheek. "Not that I expect any dictate I give you to have much effect. My only hope is that you'll grow to care enough about me that you'll take pity on me and cease taking unnecessary risks with your life. — Karen Witemeyer

Coral slows us down. She has no visible injuries, now that she has bathed and had various cuts and scrapes bandaged, but she is obviously weak. She falls behind as soon as we begin to move, and Alex hangs back with her. In the early part of the day, even though I try to ignore it, I can hear the ribbon of their conversation weaving up and through the other voices. Once, I hear Alex burst out laughing. In — Lauren Oliver

The camera does a close-up on the girl who can miraculously see again. It cuts to the mother-in-law, then to the clueless husband. All at once, the credits run.
"Maldito sea!" Lila shoves the coffee table with her foot. "We have to wait to see that hussy get what's coming?"
"Please. You know what's coming." I rub perfume on my wrists and sniff. It's better than sour milk, and it reminds me of fancy department stores where I can only browse. I stuff a few samples in my pocket. "It's going to end the way all the novelas end. Everybody happy."
She shoos away my idea like it's a bad smell. "So what? Nobody gets happy the same way. That's what's interesting. — Meg Medina

And you'll feel sorry for yourself forever because of it, will you," she said. "A fine figure you are. It's not enough you have a warm house and a man to black your boots. You've food in your belly and a fire to warm your toes. You have clothes and clothes and clothes; you keep your own carriage, ye daft fool! There's folks who would fall on their knees in thanks to have any of those things, and all you can patter on about is people talking about you and a limp that cuts your fine stride. You can't even take a bit of sympathy, but keep to your gloom about it." She flipped one hand at him in disgust. "You're naught but a spoiled lad. — Caroline Linden

I want to say that yes, it was worth it; that I could suffer through pain and torture for her and go through a lot more than what Puck and his friends are capable of, and I can do it for all of eternity; suffer, until she realizes how much I love her.
But she's gone before I can say any of it.
I wait till she's left.
And then I reach for my wallet.
Hidden inside one of the flaps is a piece of paper that barely conceals a razorblade. Its frayed edges still have my blood on them. The blood is from the previous cuts I've made and I carry it around like a trophy, like Dexter carries around his victims' blood on slides. I use that blade to give myself a cut and it starts bleeding. Right away, it feels as though the pressure that has been building inside me ever since that confrontation with Puck is lifted.
I feel free again. — Kady Hunt

You can't give her that!' she screamed. 'It's not safe!'
IT'S A SWORD, said the Hogfather. THEY'RE NOT MEANT TO BE SAFE.
'She's a child!' shouted Crumley.
IT'S EDUCATIONAL.
'What if she cuts herself?'
THAT WILL BE AN IMPORTANT LESSON. — Terry Pratchett

Victory in defeat, there is none higher. She didn't give up, Ben; she's still trying to lift that stone after it has crushed her. She's a father working while cancer eats away his insides, to bring home one more pay check. She's a twelve-year-old trying to mother her brothers and sisters because mama had to go to Heaven. She's a switchboard operator sticking to her post while smoke chokes her and fire cuts off her escape. She's all the unsung heroes who couldn't make it but never quit. — Robert A. Heinlein

She should be more frightened herself, she knew. She was only ten, a skinny girl on a stolen horse with a dark forest ahead of her and men behind who would gladly cut off her feet. Yet somehow she felt calmer than ever had in Harrenhal. The rain had washed the guard's blood off her fingers, she wore a sword across her back, wolves were prowling through the dark like lean grey shadows, and Arya Stark was unafraid. Fear cuts deeper than swords, she whispered under her breath, the words that Syrio Forel had taught her, and Jaqen's words too, valar morghulis. — George R R Martin

I'll take off my clothes," I said before I could think about how that would play out. "And you guys check for bite marks"...
"Don't," Everson said hoarsely and I froze. "It won't be enough. Even without a bite mark, you could still be infected. Chorda's blood or saliva could have gotten in one of your cuts. We're going to have to wait it out."
"He's right." Rafe cast a sidelong look at Everson. "But you could have mentioned it after she took her off her shirt"
"It crossed my mind," Everson admitted. — Kat Falls

Liam's lips tightened. "She's only a little girl. She doesn't know anything about swords. What if she cuts herself? It's sharp, right?"
"Of course it is sharp, Liam. What would be the point ot having a sword that wasn't? — Deborah Blake

She cared. She gave a crap. When I lacked even the self-respect to keep myself alive, she dabbed my cuts and I fell back into being a son; I fell as easily as you fall into your pillow at night. And I didn't want it to end. That's the best way I can explain it. I knew it was impossible. But I didn't want it to end. — Mitch Albom

She'll take a million cuts yet wipe you from existence with a single blink. — Michelle Stone

You really need stitches," she tells me."Or you're going to have a scar." I try not to laugh. Stitches aren't going to help. They fix skin, cuts, wounds, heal stuff on the outside. Everything broken with me is on the inside. "I can handle scars, especially one's on the outside. — Jessica Sorensen

All it takes is six cuts," he said near her ear. She nodded, relaxing against him as he guided her hands with precision. One deep stroke of the blade neatly removed an angled section of wood. They rotated the pencil and made another cut, and then a third, creating a precise triangular prism. "Now trim the sharp edges." They concentrated on the task with his hands still bracketed over hers, using the blade to chamfer each corner of wood until they had created a clean, satisfying point. Done. — Lisa Kleypas

Emma hears me come up the stairs and asks me to watch a movie with her. I stick Band-Aids on my weeping cuts, put on pink pajamas so we match, and snuggle with her under her rainbow comforter. She arranges all of her stuffed animals around us in a circle, everyone facing the TV, then presses play ... Ghosts dare not enter here. — Laurie Halse Anderson

She starts to roll down her sleeve, but Guy stops her. He holds her arm, looks at her cuts, traces the pattern of her razor marks with his hand.
"Don't, it's ... "
Willow stops speaking as he bends his head and kisses her scars.
She knows she should tell him to stop, but she can't because she wants him to go on forever. She knows too that she will probably pay for this feeling with other less pleasurable ones, but still she can't bring herself to pull her arm away. — Julia Hoban

Captain looks at Janie closely. "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph," she says. "You're gonna have a heck of a shiner by the time the day's over. Did you black our?"
"I ... uh ... " Janie shrugs. "I really have no idea."
"Yes, I think she did." Cabel cuts in. "I'm going to need to watch her all day. And probably all night, too," he adds. Very, very seriously.
The captain throws a rubber eraser at him and sends him out for coffee. — Lisa McMann

No trouble at all. Mother's gone back to bed, and she won't be doing any cooking - I was only going to set out some cold cuts and make some coffee. If that's all right with you." "Well - — Robert Bloch

I think we're always looking for new pieces," Viola says quietly.
What?
She continues, "I was looking for Lawrence, then for something to replace Lawrence, then for Aaron ... maybe that's the real truth about being broken. We're always whole, we're just looking to add on to ourselves, to be more whole. And then when a piece leaves, it's broken away. But we aren't left any less whole than we were to begin with ... "
"But feeling broken - " I begin, the words tight in my throat. I'm grateful that Viola cuts me off.
"Is horrible. Painful," she finishes. "But then, when you aren't expecting it, new pieces appear and suddenly ... they're attached." Her eyes rise to meet mine. "And you end up more whole than you were before. — Jackson Pearce

I made you something to eat if you're hungry."
Leigh peered at the steaming pile on the plate on the tray, then asked uncertainly. "What is it?"
"Prime cuts in gravy."
"Prime cuts in gravy?" she echoed slowly. "Did you cook it?"
"I opened the can and heated it up in the microwave for one minute. Someone named Alpo cooked it."
Leigh stiffened, her head shooting up, eyes wide with disbelief. "Alpo?"
He shrugged. "That's what the can said."
Leigh shook her head with bewilderment. "You can use a microwave, but not a phone, and don't know that Alpo isn't the chef, but the brand name for dog food?" There was something seriously wrong here. — Lynsay Sands

Spoiled?" Mum cuts her off with a laugh. "Nonsense! There's nothing wrong with Minnie, is there, my precious? She knows her own mind!" She strokes Minnie's hair fondly, then looks up again. "Becky, love, you were exactly the same at her age. Exactly the same. — Sophie Kinsella

Who cuts hair, while she is heart broken. Is it just me? — Escapades

Mothers see the angel in us because the angel is there. If it's shown to the mother, the son has got an angel to show, hasn't he? When a son cuts somebody's throat the mother only sees it's possible for a misguided angel to act like a devil - and she's entirely right about that! — Booth Tarkington

I think there's something about the homemade birthday cake, because my wife, on my daughter's first birthday, started the tradition where she takes a full cake and cuts the number birthday out of it. — Willie Geist

She's not great at communicating day-to-day, but when we finally do get into arguments, she has a laser-guided missile system that cuts right through my bullshit, and suddenly, I'm the one left floundering, searching for the right words. — David W. Wright

There should be a statute of limitation on grief. A rulebook that says it is all right to wake up crying, but only for a month. That after 42 days you will no longer turn with your heart racing, certain you have heard her call out your name. That there will be no fine imposed if you feel the need to clean out her desk; take down her artwork from the refrigerator; turn over a school portrait as you pass - if only because it cuts you fresh again to see it. That it's okay to measure the time she has been gone, the way we once measured her birthdays. — Jodi Picoult

She said she collects pieces of sky, cuts holes out of it with silver scissors, bits of heaven she calls them.
Every day a bevy of birds flies rings around her fingers, my chorus of wives, she calls them.
Every day she reads poetry from dusty books she borrows from the library, sitting in the park, she smiles at passing strangers, yet can not seem to shake her own sad feelings.
She said that night reminds her of a cool hand placed gently across her fevered brow, said she likes to fall asleep beneath the stars, that their streaks of light make her believe that she too is going somewhere.
"Infinity", she whispers as she closes her eyes, descending into thin air, where no arms outstretch to catch her. — Lisa Zaran

But always, at moments when his mind was like a blind octopus, squirming in an agony of knife-cuts, she would drop in that accusation. — Ford Madox Ford

She was battered and beaten up, and not smiling this time. Liesel could see it on her face. Blood leaked from her nose and licked at her lips. Her eyes had blackened. Cuts had opened up and a series of wounds were rising to the surface of her skin. All from the words. From Liesel's words. — Markus Zusak

The Greeks believe the Fates are three sisters: one is Order, who spins out the linear thread of a life from the beginning; another is Irony, who gently cocks up the thread, marking it with some peculiar sense of balance, like justice, only blind drunk with a scale that's been bunged into the street so it never quite settles; and the third, Inevitability, simply sits in the corner taking notes and criticizing the other two for being shameless slags until she cuts life's thread, leaving everyone miffed at the timing. — Christopher Moore

slash that cuts through the countryside, winding beside a twin artery separated by tangles of scrub. Here and there the sediment that covers the road breaks and Zoey sees ghostly lines of yellow and white. Her face stings from the constant wind and she's slightly chilled, but she can't help — Joe Hart

She cuts with daggerous eyes of fire
Words like poison coat fangs of bad intent
And biting remarks carve into holiday delights
Leaving dark the places once light. — Neil Leckman

She's dark and heavy-browed and has a mouth like unswept glass - when you least expect it she cuts you. — Junot Diaz

Everything stinks: creosote, bleach, disinfectant, soil, blood, gangrene.
The military authorities say uniforms must be preserved at all costs, but that means manhandling patients who are in agony. Cut them off, says Sister Byrd, and she's the voice of authority here, in the Salle d'Attente, not some gold-braid-encrusted crustacean miles away from blood and pain, so cut they do, snip, snip, snip, snip, as close to the skin as they dare.
On either side of Paul as he cuts are two long rows of feet: yellow, strong, calloused, scarred where blisters have formed and burst repeatedly. Since August they've done a lot of marching, these feet, and all their marching has brought them to this one place. — Pat Barker

Your love is a terrible thing," November says. "It sits heavy. It stings. It cuts."
She shrugs. "I am Casimira."
"I don't know if I can bear it."
"I would not have chosen you if you could not. You will get stronger. You will grow calluses. — Catherynne M Valente

It appears that no one is so unfortunate that he or she is exempt from spending cuts, while at the same time no one is so fortunate as to be ineligible for a tax cut — Jonathan Schell

I'm wondering how many times he can possibly use the word alliance in one sentence when Tiny Cooper cuts Mr. Fortson off by saying, "Hey, wait, Jane, you're straight?"
And she nods without realign looking up and then mumbles, "I mean, I think so, anyway."
"You should date Grayson," Tiny says. "He thinks you're super cute."
If i were stand on a scale fully dressed, sopping wet, holding ten-pound dumbbells in each hand and balancing a stack of hardcover books on my head, I'd weigh about 180 pounds, which is approximately equal to the weight of Tiny Cooper's left tricep. But in this moment, I could beat the holy living shit out of Tiny Cooper. And I would, I swear to God, except I'm too busy trying to disappear. — John Green

Withdraw into yourself and look. And if you do not find yourself beautiful as yet, do as the creator of a statue that is to be made beautiful; the sculptor cuts away here, smoothes there, makes this line lighter, this other purer, until he or she has shown a beautiful face upon the statue. — Plotinus