She Took It Like A Man Quotes & Sayings

Even souvenir seekers. One of the worst contaminants was fellow officers, especially brass grandstanding if reporters were present and eager to grab a video bite to slap on the twenty-four-hour news cycle. One more glance at the circular coffin. Okay, Amelia Sachs thought: Knuckle time ... A phrase of her father's. The man had also been cop, a beat patrolman working the Deuce - Midtown South; back then Times Square was like Deadwood in the 1800s. "Knuckle time" referred to those moments when you have to go up against your worst fears. Breadbasket ... Sachs returned to the access door and climbed through it and down into the utility room below the cellar. Then she took the evidence collection gear bag from the other officer. Sachs said, "You search the basement, Jean?" "I'll do it now," Eagleston said. "And then get everything into the RRV." They'd done a fast examination of the cellar. But it was apparent that the perp had spent minimal time there. He'd grabbed Chloe, subdued — Jeffery Deaver

Mother Teresa tells a story of walking past an open drain and catching a glimpse of something moving in it. She investigated and found a dying man whom she took back to a home where he could die in love and peace. 'I live like an animal in the streets,' the man told her. 'Now I will die like an angel' ... — Mother Teresa

you like men. So let's honour your tradition and do this your way." She came back wearing a strap-on. Martha took it in her hands and was surprised to see her fingers looked pale and gentle, unusually feminine against the skin-coloured rod. She wanted to take it in her mouth, but Petra said no again. "When you want a man, how do you want him?" she heard. "What do you ask your men to do? Tell me." She brushed her mouth against Martha's knees and thighs, then pulled apart her legs and slid in like a snake. They both stood still for a moment. Petra kissed her and did not stop kissing when she started swaying, and Martha was filled with slithering and enveloped by a thousand arms. Later they lay entangled, forgetting about time. — Lydia Perovic

Yes, she had changed her mind after sixty years and she would like to see George. I want you to find George. Find him and be sure to tell him I forgot him. I want him to know I had my husband just the same and my children and my house like any other woman. A good house too and a good husband that I loved and fine children out of him. Better than I had hoped for even. Tell him I was given back everything he took away and more. Oh, no, oh, God, no, there was something else besides the house and the man and the children. Oh, surely they were not all? What was it? Something not given back... Her breath crowded down under her ribs and grew into a monstrous frightening shape with cutting edges; it bored up into her head, and the agony was unbelievable: Yes, John, get the Doctor now, no more talk, the time has come. — Katherine Anne Porter

What a relief, Nadya thought; in that light he would not be able to tell that she had been crying.
"You mean if it weren't for the blackout you wouldn't have come?" Dasha took up Shchagov's tone, flirting unconsciously, as she did with every unmarried man she met.
"By no means, never. In bright light women's faces are deprived of all their charm; it reveals their spiteful expressions, their envious glances, their premature wrinkles, their heavy cosmetics."
Nadya shuddered at the words "envious glances" - it was as if he had overheard their argument.
Shchagov went on:" If I were a woman, I would make it a law that lights be kept low. Then everyone would soon have a husband."
Dasha looked disapprovingly at Shchagov. He always talked that way, and she didn't like it. All his phrases seemed memorized, insincere. — Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn

Linnet's thudding heart raced blood through her veins, sending a flush of embarrassing heat to her face. She had been avoiding him, but she could never tell him why. It took all her discipline not to quail under Sir Anthony's penetrating gaze.
Blast the man. She'd lost count of the times he'd made her feel like a blushing maiden. Strictly speaking, she was still a maiden, but she'd given up blushing years ago - along with simpering, flirting, and so many other talents deemed useful to unmarried women.
Except, of course, in Sir Anthony's august presence. — Vanessa Kelly

Jerry took a large slice of wheaten bread, spread with golden butter, and bit into it with her small white teeth. It was a natural gesture - she was very hungry indeed - but to Sam, there was something symbolic about it. Jerry was like bread, he thought. She was like good wholesome wheaten bread, spread thick with honest farm butter; and the thought crossed his mind, that a man might eat bread forever and ever, and not tire of it, and it would never clog his palate like sweet cakes or pastries or chocolate eclairs. — D.E. Stevenson

He leaned forward to inspect her closer. "Is that all hair?"
... Sudden, overwhelming panic clawed up Cress's throat. With a squeak, she ducked out of view of the camera and scrambled beneath the desk. Her back struck the wall with a thud that rattled her teeth. She crouched there, skin burning hot and pulse thundering as she took in the room before her - the room that he was now seeing too, with the rumpled bedcovers and the mustached man on all the screens telling her to grab her imaginary partner and swing them around.
"Wha - where'd she go?" Thorne's voice came to her through the screen.
"Honestly, Thorne." A girl. Linh Cinder? "Do you ever think before you speak?"
"What? What did I say?"
" 'Is that all hair?' "
"Did you see it? It was like a cross between a magpie nest and ball of yarn after it's been mauled by a cheetah."
A beat. Then, "A cheetah?"
"It was the first big cat that came to mind. — Marissa Meyer

I read a story about some old opera singer once, and when a guy asked her to marry him, she took him backstage after she had sung a real triumph, with all the people calling for her, asked, 'Do you think you could give me that?' That story hit me right, man. I know no guy ever made me feel as good as an audience. I'm really far into this now, really committed. Like, I don't think I'd go off the road for long now, for life with a guy no matter how good. Yeah, it's the truth. Scary thing to say though, isn't it? — Janis Joplin

Life was not easy, nor was it happy, but she did not expect life to be easy, and, if it was not happy, that was woman's lot. It was a man's world, and she accepted it as such. The man owned the property, and the woman managed it. The man took credit for the management, and the woman praised his cleverness. The man roared like a bull when a splinter was in his finger, and the woman muffled the moans of childbirth, lest she disturb him. Men were rough of speech and often drunk. Women ignored the lapses of speech and put the drunkards to bed without bitter words. Men were rude and outspoken, women were always kind, gracious and forgiving. — Margaret Mitchell

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

My God." He pushed away from the bedpost. "Friends! And do you fall into bed with any man who's 'dear' to you? How am I to take that?"
"Of course I don't." She stood up, letting the knotted scarf slip away. "I can't seem to help myself. With you. About that. It's extremely vexing."
"You're quite right on that count," he said sullenly. "I'm damned vexed. I'd like to vex you right here on the floor, in fact. And the idea of Sturgeon vexing you is enough to dispose me to murder. Is that clear? Do you comprehend me?" He took a reckless stride toward her and caught her chin between his fingers. "I'm not your friend, my lady. I'm your lover. — Laura Kinsale

Go take a shower. Use cold water, it will help."
It took him a moment to control the urgent demands of his body. As he stepped away from her, the pad of his finger slipped down her throat and trailed over the swell of her breast before he dropped his hand to his side.
Dahlia shivered at his touch. She remained still, only inches from him, refusing to back away ... or move forward. "Fortunately, Jesse stashed some clothes here for me. He's a thoughtful man."
"Is that what you call him? I think interfering busybody would just about say it all. I like you without clothes."
"Nicolas," she cautioned. "I'm hanging on by a thread. You're supposed to help."
"Tell me why again, and I'll work on it. — Christine Feehan

Sleep, honey. We can play later." And if she hadn't seen it with her own tired eyes, she never would've believed it. Like the snuffing of a candle, he was asleep in seconds. Burning red hot one moment, a ghost of dissipating smoke the next.

Hope inventoried his unguarded face, softer and so much younger in sleep, his enviably long lashes hiding the ever present jadedness. Fatigue pulled at her and she fought it, forcing her eyes open when they drifted shut.

"I'm not gonna fall in love with you, Beck. I'm gonna leave you in August."

She whispered the vow to a man in deep sleep. To a room cast in shadow. To a house steeped in tradition. To a woman mired in denial.

Sleep took her quickly, quicker than she wanted, and with it came the mocking sound of her surely spoken promise, echoing in her dreams like a school yard taunt. — Jodi Watters

When he would steal a kiss from her, it always took her breath away. No one kissed like Rick. No other man was able to make her lose all conception of time when he kissed her.

That was not all. Rick was fun to work with and made her laugh. As a partner, he had talents that she desperately needed in her business. He was a cunning and crafty man, and his talents helped in solving many cases. — Linda Weaver Clarke

It had been in a Paris house, with many people around, and my dear friend Jules Darboux, wishing to do me a refined aesthetic favor, had touched my sleeve and said, "I want you to meet-" and led me to Nina, who sat in the corner of a couch, her body folded Z-wise, with an ashtray at her heel, and she took a long turquoise cigarette holder from her lips and joyfully, slowly exclaimed, "Well, of all people-" and then all evening my heart felt like breaking, as I passed from group to group with a sticky glass in my fist, now and then looking at her from a distance (she did not look ... ), and listening to scraps of conversation, and overheard one man saying to another, "Funny, how they all smell alike, burnt leaf through whatever perfume they use, those angular dark-haired girls," and as it often happens, a trivial remark related to some unknown topic coiled and clung to one's own intimate recollection, a parasite of its sadness. — Vladimir Nabokov

Before she could answer, the waiter sprang at his chance to brush some crumbs from David's chair. He had been hanging around their table like a vulture, waiting for them to eat the last papadum crumb so he could take away the basket. He eyed the last piece sadly, as if it were the barrier between him and eternal happiness. Ginny grabbed it and shoved it in her mouth. The man looked relieved and took the basket but immediately returned to stare mournfully at their water glasses. — Maureen Johnson

He asked her out and she told him she wouldnt go out with a man that drank. He looked her straight in the eye and told her he didnt drink. She like to fell over backwards. I guess it come as somethin of a shock to her to meet a even bigger liear than what she was. But he told the naked truth. Of course she called hishand on it. Said she knew for a fact he drank. Said everbody in Jeff Davis County knew he drank and drank plenty and was wild as a buck. He never batted a eye. Said he used to but he quit. She asked him when did he quit and he said I just now did. And she went out with him. And as far as I know he never took another drink. Till she quit him of course. By then he had a lot of catchin up to do. Tell me about the evils of liquor. Liquor aint nothin. But he was changed from that day. — Cormac McCarthy

Apparently that dog of hers joined you in the water."
Yes, that's right, he took his dip with the rest of us. But what's that got to do with it?"
Wilbert Cream dived in and saved him."
He could have got ashore perfectly well under his own steam. In fact, he was already on his way, doing what looked like an Australian crawl."
That wouldn't occur to a pinhead like Phyllis. To her Wilbert Cream is the man who rescued her dachshund from a watery grave. So she's going to marry him."
But you don't marry fellows because they rescue dachshunds."
You do, if you've got a mentality like hers. — P.G. Wodehouse

brooch caught her eye. It was in the shape of a snake and its eyes sparkled with rubies, just like her mother's bracelet. She picked it up to examine it closer. How odd it was to find something so similar. "Psst." Claire jumped at the sudden sound, and dropped the brooch on the table, her heart racing. A man stood in an alleyway behind the booth, his face cloaked in shadow under a gray hood. He took a step — Casey Odell

Andy said something about angels aren't suitable superheroes, especially English ones. That was all it took and Calista ripped into him. She went on and on about angels and what we've done for the Earth and humanity since the dawn of Creation. Andy snapped back that having wings doesn't make you all that great, and she's nothing more than a molting light flitting around in the sky like a wannabe Tinker Belle. Calista slammed her hand down on the granite, smashed it to bits, and called him a small man who she could crush just as easily. I think he peed his pants! — Ashlan Thomas

The simmering lust, the raging interest exploded into love. Who wouldn't fall in love with a man who took the time to feed a homeless kitty? She held that image against her heart like a secret jewel. Only she knew about it, she was sure. Those girls Liam might've slept with, girls who left their panties in his locker or wrote things about him on the bathroom walls ... they didn't know what Posey knew
Liam Declan Murphy was not just the hottest thing ever to grace Bellsford High ... he was a softy, too. — Kristan Higgins

In a lot of ways, I guess Satan was the first superhero." "Don't you mean supervillain?" "Nah. Hero, for sure. Think about it. In his first adventure, he took the form of a snake to free two prisoners being held naked in a Third World jungle prison by an all-powerful megalomaniac. At the same time, he broadened their diet and introduced them to their own sexuality. Sounds kind of like a cross between Animal Man and Dr. Phil to me." She — Joe Hill

All around her it was like that: a fast crack on the head if you let the hunger show so she decided then and there at the age of twelve in Baltimore never to be broken in the hands of any man. Whatever it took
knife blades or screaming teeth
Never. And yes, she would tap dance, and yes, she would skate, but she would do it with a frown, pugnacious lips and scary eyes, because Never. And anybody who wanted nice from this little colored girl would have to get it with pliers and chloroform, because Never. When her mother died and she went to Philadelphia and then away to school, she was so quick to learn, but no touchee, teacher, and no, I do not smile, because Never. It smoothed out a little as she grew older. The pugnacious lips became a seductive pout
eyes more heated than scary. But beneath the easy manners was a claw always ready to rein in the dogs, because Never. — Toni Morrison

She held out her hand, like a man. He hesitated, then took the hand and shook it. It was very warm. You could not help but be aware of the wild passage of blood on the other side of its wall, veins, capillaries, sweat glands, tiny factories in the throes of complicated manufacture. [He] looked at the eyes and, knowing how eyes worked, was astonished, not for the first time, at the infinite complexity of Creation, wondering how this thing, this instrument for seeing, could transmit so clearly its entreaty while at the same time - -Look, I am only an eye - -denying that it was doing anything of the sort. — Peter Carey

I was thinking he was a hit man, like that," Angel said, looking over Savich's right shoulder, her voice calm. "I can see him blowing it, too. I mean even in bed he was always too fast off the mark, didn't really think things through, you know? No surprise he'd screw up a hit." "Did he tell you about this situation he had to handle?" Savich asked. He pulled a pack of sugarless gum from his pocket, offered her a stick. She took it, peeled the wrapper with long white fingers, stuck it into — Catherine Coulter

The intruder took a step forward, and Moody's voice asked, "Severus Snape?" Then the dust figure rose from the end of the hall and rushed him, raising its dead hand.
"It was not I who killed you, Albus," said a quiet voice.
The jinx broke: The dust-figure exploded again, and it was impossible to make out the newcomer through the dense gray cloud it left behind.
Harry pointed his wand into the middle of it.
"Don't move!"
He had forgotten the portrait of Mrs. Black: At the sound of his yell, the curtains hiding her flew open and she began to scream, "Mudbloods and filth dishonoring my house--"
Ron and Hermione came crashing down the stairs behind Harry, wants pointing, like his, at the unknown man now standing with his arms raised in the hall below.
"Hold your fire, it's me, Remus!"
"Oh, thank goodness," said Hermione weakly, pointing her wand at Mrs. Black instead; with a bang, the curtains swished shut again and silence fell. — J.K. Rowling

was too good to turn down, and so she and Berthe left for the States together. They'd suggested that Carol and Imogen might like to come too, but it would have been almost impossible for Carol to get a work visa, and besides, she was uneasy about raising her daughter in New York. It was Madame Fournier who found her the housekeeper's job in the Delissandes' holiday home in Hendaye, seven hundred kilometres away. There had been tears at their departure, but Imogen didn't remember them. She didn't remember the flight to Biarritz. No matter how hard she tried, her first clear memory was of the gates of the Villa Martine opening and of Denis Delissandes yelling at his sons. The sudden sound of a mobile ringtone startled her so much that she jumped and instinctively put her hand into her bag, before remembering that her phone was in its component parts and scattered around France. At the same time, a man walking out of a doorway took his own phone from his — Sheila O'Flanagan

One evening he appeared with an infant in his arms at the door of his ex-wife, Martha. Because Briony, his lovely young wife after Martha, had died. Of what? We'll get to that. I can't do this alone, Andrew said, as Martha stared at him from the open doorway. It happened to have been snowing that night, and Martha was transfixed by the soft creature-like snowflakes alighting on Andrew's NY Yankees hat brim. Martha was like that, enrapt by the peripheral things as if setting them to music. Even in ordinary times, she was slow to respond, looking at you with her large dark rolling protuberant eyes. Then the smile would come, or the nod, or the shake of the head. Meanwhile the heat from her home drifted through the open door and fogged up Andrew's eyeglasses. He stood there behind his foggy lenses like a blind man in the snowfall and was without volition when at last she reached out, gently took the swaddled infant from him, stepped back, and closed the door in his face. — E.L. Doctorow

It wasn't until he turned that she saw him, a huge, towering man close enough to hear everything they were saying. She gasped, and Beckett laughed. "Don't scare her to death!" He pulled Candy over to the man in the shadows, smiling. "This is my security detail. Mouse, meet Candy Cox." Mouse nodded. "Hey, Candy." He stepped forward, and she noticed he was younger than she'd initially thought. His voice was high and squeaky. He made no comment about her name, and that made her like him. Beckett slapped Mouse on the arm but missed the look of pure devotion on the man's face because he'd turned back to speak to her. "If you ever see this dude around, know I sent him. He's safe." Candy held out her hand formally, like her family had ingrained in her. Mouse took it and gave her a gentle smile. "Thanks, Mouse. Nice to meet you." He nodded and stepped back, scanning the area. — Debra Anastasia

The terror that took Baru came from the deepest part of her soul. It was a terror particular to her, a fundamental concern - the apocalyptic possibility that the world simply did not permit plans, that it worked in chaotic and unmasterable ways, that one single stroke of fortune, one well-aimed bowshot by a man she had never met, could bring total disaster. The fear that the basic logic she used to negotiate the world was a lie. Or, worse, that she herself could not plan: that she was as blind as a child, too limited and self-deceptive to integrate the necessary information, and that when the reckoning between her model and the pure asymbolic fact of the world came, the world would devour her like a cuttlefish snapping up bait. — Seth Dickinson

You've got it wrong." His voice was harsh.

"Jackson - "

He cut her off. "No, it's my turn to talk. You've given your speech. And I get it, Mollie, I do. Madison is your sister, and she made you PB&J as a kid when your parents checked out, and that's fine. But open your eyes. You don't owe her anything anymore. You are your own woman, and you are a woman, Mollie. You're not a kid. You're not a girl. And if I've been a complete asshole lately, it's because I'm having a hell of a time coming to grips with the fact that I want you. And fuck, Mollie, I want you. I want you so bad, I'm dying."

Mollie had never made the first move on a man in her life. She was old-fashioned like that. But she made the first move now.

She took a step forward, placed a hand at the back of his head, and pulled his mouth to hers. — Lauren Layne

Jaenelle opened her mouth, closed it, and finally said timidly, "Do you think, when I'm grown up, I could wear an outfit like that?" Daemon bit his cheek. He didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Buying time, he looked down at himself. "Well," he said, giving it slow consideration, "the shirt would have to be altered somewhat to accommodate a female figure, but I don't see why not." Jaenelle beamed. "Daemon, it's a wonderful hat." It took him a moment to admit it to himself, but he was miffed. He stood in front of her, on display as it were, and the thing that fascinated her most was his hat. You do know how to bruise a man's ego, don't you, little one? he thought dryly as he said, "Would you like to try it on?" Jaenelle bounced to the mirror, brushing against him as she passed. — Anne Bishop

She took him to places inside a shaded room that he'd only dimly imagined might exist, and while there in sweaty reality he reclined like a pasha of lust, a man lost to squirts, sighs, fresh angles of entry and the enveloping stink, and to find this carnal enchantment for the first time at his age was to welcome a streaking of madness into his life - madness he prayed had no end now that it had begun. — Daniel Woodrell

Jennifer Dixon, I'm a fuck-up. I swear too much, and I like beer. Sometimes I get moody, and I can be a plain pain in the ass."
If this was a wedding proposal he needed a lot of work.
"I'm all of those things, but I'm the man who is in love with you. If you asked me to follow you wherever you may go then I'd follow, no questions asked." He licked his lips. "The biggest mistake of my life was walking out of that door angry at you. I wasn't angry at you. I was angry at myself. All my life I've had everything easy. I never expected to be completely taken over by you."
She watched as he rummaged through his pockets. He pulled out a ring, took a deep breath, and presented it to her.
"Will you do me the honour of becoming my wife? — Sam Crescent

It was like ... it was like women were made to do that to men. Like men were made with a big soft spot, and no matter how tough they got they couldn't protect themselves there. Like maybe, when God took that rib from the man to make the woman, the way the priests told it from their Scripture books, He left a hole in the man. One that she could always slide into. And the man couldn't stop her doing it, either. — George Bryan Polivka

Her shoulders shuddered. I realized she had begun to cry. The tears ran down her face, trickling in with the blood over the bruises. "My sister was brought to this country as a slave,"she said. "She spent the final months of her life being treated like a piece of meat until finally a rich man paid to see a girl get her throat slit. The indignity of such a thing is beyond imagination."She drew in a watery breath. "Unless I took care of it personally, I knew that I would never feel like her honor had been avenged. — Joe Schreiber

There's nothing worse than having someone moping around feeling sorry for themselves, is there?"
"A damned nuisance," he agreed lightly as he drew her into the private car. "How much did you take me for in there?"
It took her a minute to realize he'd changed the subject. "Oh,I don't know-five,six hundred."
"I'll put breakfast on your tab," he said as the doors opened to his and Serena's suite. Her laugh pleased him as much as the hug she gave him.
"Just like a man," Serena stated as she came into the room. "Waltzing in with a beautiful woman at the crack of dawn while the wife stays home and changes the baby." She held a gurgling Mac over her shoulder.
Justin grinned at her. "Nothing worse than a jealous woman. — Nora Roberts

Brother - "
"I thought we'd already decided we weren't that, either."
Grabbing his shoulder, I stopped him before he could reach the door. "Look, I'm sorry! I'm sorry I did this to you."
He turned to look at me, his brow raised high. "You're sorry. So, what ... we go back to being cool again?"
"I don't know, man. But we can't do this."
"And why can't we? You couldn't stand to let me have one normal day with her. Have I done anything to you since she and I broke up?" He paused, but I didn't respond. "No. I haven't. You dealt with it by being an ass, so let me deal with this my way. And my way doesn't include acting like you didn't steal my girl from me."
"I didn't steal Harper!"
He opened the door and took a step outside, his shaking hand gripping the outer knob. When he looked back at me, his eyes were flat and lifeless. "You stole my entire world. — Molly McAdams

Alesha walked up to him and looped her arms around his shoulders as she went up on her tiptoes and kissed him. She only meant for it to be a quick kiss but Reece's arms instantly banded around her as he took it deeper. She was readily on board. The man certainly knew how to kiss and she wasn't going to ask him to stop!...
She squirmed for a moment and then reluctantly lifted her head. "Wow."
He chuckled. "I kind of like that I keep getting that response from you."
"I'm normally much more prolific with words but whenever you kiss me, I can't seem to remember any."
His smile deepened. "Now I definitely like that. — Samantha Chase

Back when I was five, I thought my mom was being mean to me, so I decided to run away. Carried my slingshot with me because I was a big strong man, you see. Could take care of myself. I believe I also took a flashlight and a package of Oreos."
Despite my embarrassement, I couldn't help smiling. "I think you packed better than I did."
I swaggered out of the house where we were staying and took myself all the way to ... the far corner of the backyard. There I made my stand. Stayed out there all day, until it started to reain. I hadn't thought about taking an umbrella."
The best laid plans." I sighed.
I know. It's tragic. I cam back in, all wet and my stomach aching from eating about twenty Oreo, and my mom
who is a smart lady even is she drives me nuts
well, she acted like nothing happened." Lucas shrugged. — Claudia Gray

Sin spied a straw-covered head peeping over the side of the wagon. Once the man disappeared from sight, the woman scrambled from the cart, with the boy one step behind. No one seemed to notice her peculiar activity, or if they did, they ignored it. She took a moment to dust the straw off them, but somehow she missed a piece that hung in the midst of one coppery curl. It bobbed as she moved.
Simon laughed as she took the boy's hand and led him through the crowd. "Why was she hiding?"
"She seeks to escape royal custody."
The mirth faded from Simon's eyes. "Should we notify the guards?"
"Nay, I think we can manage to retake her."
"Then what are we waiting for?"
"I have no idea. I simply like watching her maneuver."
-Simon, Sin, Callie & Jamie — Kinley MacGregor

Henry McAllan was as landsick as any man I ever seen and I seen plenty of em, white and colored both. It's in their eyes, the way they look at the land like a woman they's itching for. White men already got her, they thinking, You mine now, just wait and see what I'm gone do to you. Colored men ain't got her and ain't never gone get her but they dreaming bout her just the same, with every push of that plow and every chop of that hoe. White or colored, none of em got sense enough to see that she the one owns them. She takes their sweat and blood and the sweat and blood of their women and children and when she done took it all she takes their bodies too, churning and churning em up till they one and the same, them and her. — Hillary Jordan

How anybody can compose a story by word of mouth face to face with a bored-looking secretary with a notebook is more than I can imagine. Yet many authors think nothing of saying, 'Ready, Miss Spelvin? Take dictation. Quote no comma Sir Jasper Murgatroyd comma close quotes comma said no better make it hissed Evangeline comma quote I would not marry you if you were the last person on earth period close quotes Quote well comma I'm not so the point does not arise comma close quotes replied Sir Jasper twirling his moustache cynically period And so the long day wore on period End of chapter.'
If I had to do that sort of thing I should be feeling all the time that the girl was saying to herself as she took it down, 'Well comma this beats me period How comma with homes for the feebleminded touting for custom on every side comma has a man like this succeeded in remaining at large mark of interrogation. — P.G. Wodehouse

Her body didn't give a damn that he was all wrong for her, it wanted him anyway. Badly. Either oblivious of or not wanting to encourage the attraction between them, Wade looked down at his mug as though he wasn't comfortable holding her gaze at such close range, and took a sip. As he swallowed, one side of his mouth curved up and he let out an appreciative groan that seemed to reverberate right through her, heating her blood. Startled, she drank in the almost dreamy expression on his angular face and imagined that same look right after he'd enjoyed an intensely satisfying orgasm. Erin couldn't be positive, but if his reaction to a simple cup of coffee made him groan like that, she was pretty sure it had been a while since he'd had one of those, too. And man, the idea of being the one to end his dry spell was way too freaking hot for her own good. — Kaylea Cross

Sumire was a hopeless romantic, a bit set in her ways - innocent of the ways of the world, to put a nice spin on it. Start her talking and she'd go on nonstop, but if she was with someone she didn't get along with - most people in the world, in other words - she barely opened her mouth. She smoked too much, and you could count on her to lose her ticket every time she took the train. She'd get so engrossed in her thoughts at times she'd forget to eat, and she was as thin as one of those war orphans in an old Italian film - like a stick with eyes. I'd love to show you a photo of her but I don't have any. She hated having her photograph taken - no desire to leave behind for posterity a Portrait of the Artist as a Young (Wo)Man. — Haruki Murakami

When it became obvious that the stranger was no longer a threat, Laeth said congenially, "She doesn't like it when men touch her without an invitation. You're lucky that she's in a good mood or she'd have just cut your hand off - that's what she did to the last man who tried it."
A friend of Laeth's leaned over from a nearby table and said sadly, "Poor Jard was never the same."
"Remember what she did to Lothar?" added another man, shaking his head.
"Took us three days to find all the pieces so that we could bury him," commented one of Laeth's fellow lieutenants, a stocky, bald man with a friendly face. He leaned closer and said softly, "But then, Lothar tried to kiss her. — Patricia Briggs

Vic just laughed at that, didn't bother to tell him she had pulled his cell phone apart and shoved it in the garbage the day before. He took her in his arms, held her in his bearish embrace. He was a big man, glum about being overweight, but he smelled better than any guy she had ever met. His chest smelled of cedar and motor oil and the outdoors. He smelled like responsibility. For a moment, being held by him, she remembered what it had been like to be happy. — Joe Hill

I brought you some pictures of my work," he said proudly. His name was William Weinstein, which may have explained why he left Jews off his hate list. He had been born in Brooklyn, and moved to Santa Fe ten years before. He took an envelope out of his pocket, rifled through some pictures, and handed them to Paris. They were ten-foot phallic symbols made of clay. The man had penises on the brain. "It's very interesting work," Paris said, pretending to be impressed. "Do you use live models?" she asked more in jest, and he nodded. "Actually, I use my own." He thought that hysterically funny and laughed so hard he almost coughed himself to death. Along with the clay under his nails, enough of it to create another sculpture, his fingers were stained with nicotine. "Do you like to ride?" "Yes, but I haven't in a long time. Do you? — Danielle Steel

In just a week, he'd taught her so much. That good, honorable men like him stayed the same after death. That she'd existed for too long with only hatred and revenge in her heart. Love was a much nobler cause to live for. Love didn't follow its own selfish agenda; it was willing to make sacrifices for others. How strange that it took an undead man to show her how to live. — Kerrelyn Sparks

What's in the box?"
Sloane glanced to her hands. Box? Oh!
"Cupcakes. For you." A flush heated her skin, but she forced herself to ignore it. "Kind of a thank you for doing this today."
"You brought me cupcakes?"
It had been a dumb idea, bringing cupcakes to a gym. To a guy who looked like Sloane - he obviously didn't eat a lot of sweets.
"You can throw them away."
"Hey, Michaels, I'll take the cupcakes," one of the men shouted.
Sloane's eyes took on a tinge of smoldering sienna color. He snapped his head around toward the man. "Touch them and die, Carson. She brought them for me." He took the box from her and shoved them under his right arm. A grin broke out over his face. "Right, Kat? Just for me. — Jennifer Lyon

His smile was slow to spread over his face. As it grew, something warm slid through her belly, warming her from the inside like a pumpkin spice latte on a cool fall night.
Red alert. That's a ten-forty-two. Charming jock in progress, proceed with caution.
He took her hand in his, shook it once, then let go. Very proper, very simple. And it would have stayed that way had she not looked him in the eye and seen it.
Hunger, as clear as if he were a starving man looking at a T-bone.
And that was the T-bone's cue to make for the hills. — Jeanette Murray

I withdrew back into the window frame. She took a hasty gulp from her glass and looked down at her lap. "I'm saying that this is what's it's like, when every man you kiss thinks he's unearthed you, and everyone has a role for you to play, the brave little refugee, the obedient daughter, the foreign girl with loose morals ... " Her hand made a quick mechanical gesture. "You do what you can with that. You can't stop life from happening, can you? You don't get to choose what parts you get. So you take your opportunities. You use the means available to you. Your life becomes something that takes you further and further away from yourself. It sounds cynical, I know. It is cynical. — Paul Murray

You are the sweetest man, Savannah inserted softly, her voice brushing at him. Echoing.
Gregori frowned. Echoing? Close. He swung around, cursing in French, an eloquent dissertation that had Gary cringing. Savannah,however, simply took Gregori's arm and smiled up at him, the stars in her eyes dancing. She was like that.Distracting him and then slamming him sideways with her smile. With her blue-violet eyes with their accursed star centers. She didn't even have the decency to look repentant.
Don't be angry, Gregori.I was lonesome in the house all by myself. Are you really,really angry? Or just a little angry? Her voice was soft, a siren's whisper, made of silk sheets and candlelight. Her long lashes were thick and heavy, a sweep of magic that caught his eye and held it there.
It is impossible for you to be lonely when you are always running around in my head. — Christine Feehan

But my dad was kind of a travelin' man too, and he liked his family with him, so he almost always took us along. News Deke did not like to hear because she said it not like she missed having roots while growing up but like she liked being a tumbleweed as long as she was tumbling close to someone she love. — Kristen Ashley

She ordered white wine, and I ordered Schweppes tonic water without the booze. The drinks came, and I took a hit.
The first thing she said was, "I don't know how you can drink that stuff straight?"
"You mean without the liquor to kill the taste?"
"Yeah, it's so bitter."
"That's what I like about it. It's bitter like me. We match."
"You mean you're a grumpy old man?"
"Right. Can't help it. That's what happens when you get old."
"Well, I'm an optimist."
"I'm an optimist too, just a grumpy optimist. — Robert Hobkirk

My ex-wife was trying to be nice once, so she took me to a concert in Los Angeles. I went with her to Symphony Hall, and the orchestra was playing. When the show started, the spotlight was sharp on this one man (Andres Segovia) and he had sombrero on and his guitar propped up like this and, oh man ... he was a master ! - I really heard it. That one guitar sounded like a whole orchestra to me. — B.B. King

Her eyes were liquid silver as they narrowed at him, swirling with as many mysteries as the stars in the night sky. "I want a family," she murmured. "And I'll do what I must to get it."
The naked, aching honesty in her voice pierced him with a poisoned arrow, and he could feel the toxins spreading through his blood. Soon he would be completely paralyzed, a victim of the opposing forces now quarreling inside him like two wolves fighting for dominance. The two strongest emotions known to man.
He took in a deep breath, the scent of her honey soap and the lavender water evading his senses with the subtlety of a Roman legion. — Kerrigan Byrne

Fire and hope are connected, just so you know.
The way the Greek told it, Zeus put Prometheus and Epimetheus in charge of creating life on earth. Epimetheus made the animals, giving out bonuses like swiftness and strenght and fur and wings.
By the time Prometheus made man, all the best qualities had been given out. He settled for making them walk upright, and he gave them fire.
Zeus, pissed off, took it away. But prometheus saw his pride and joy shivering and unable to cook. He lit a torch from the sun and brought it to man again.
To punish Prometheus, Zeus had him chained to a rock, where an eagle fed on his liver. To punish man, Zeus created the first woman-Pandora-and gave her a gift, a box she was forbidden to open.
Pandora's curiosity got the best of her, and one day she opened that box. Out came plagues and misery and mischief. She managed to shut the lid tight before hope escaped.
It's the only weapon we have left to fight the others. — Jodi Picoult

You're not like any man I've ever known," she said. "You're not even someone I could have dreamed. You're like someone from a fairy story written in a language I don't even know."
"The prince, I hope."
"No, you're the dragon, a beautiful wicked dragon." Her voice turned wistful. "How could anyone have a normal everyday life with you?" Cam took her in a safe, firm grip and lowered her to the mattress. "Maybe you'll be a civilizing influence on me." He bent over the slope of her breast, kissing it through the muslin veil of her gown. "Or maybe you'll get a taste for the dragon." He found the bud of her nipple, wet the cotton with his mouth, until the tender flesh pricked up against his tongue.
"I th-think I already have." She sounded so perturbed that he laughed. "Then lie still," he whispered, "while I breathe fire on you. — Lisa Kleypas