Showing Your Hand Quotes & Sayings

What did you wrap my hand with?" he asked. "My thong." I looked up at him. "You were right ; it's totally uncomfortable. Awesome for first-aid though." The corners of T.J.'s mouth turned up slighty. He looked at me, his brown eyes showing a trance of the spark that had been missing the night before. "It'll make for a funny story someday," I said. "You know what, Anna? It's kinda funny now. — Tracey Garvis-Graves

Well, don't you look lovely," his voice dripped behind me, his breath tickling my ear as his words trickled in my brain.
Turning slowly, I saw him in his usual attire, a white t-shirt and jeans, but he looked incredible. His dark hair appeared darker in the dimmed lighting, his eyes shone with eagerness.
"You're here," I said dumbly. Like he didn't know he was here. I was such an idiot sometimes.
"I am," he said, a sexy smirk showing on one side of his mouth. "Wanna dance?" he asked, his leg shaking nervously, his eyes desperately searching mine for an answer.
I nodded, unable to speak. We'd kised, but only a couple of times. He grabbed me, pulling me to a spot close to where we stood. Warm fingers of one hand circled around my waist, while the others held my had. He pulled me close, every inch of our bodies touching. His eyes never left mine as we swayed and spun. I was lost in all that was Cade Kelling. — Felicia Tatum

The bedroom door opened and Ginger snapped Evan's reaction shot on her cell phone. He looked like he'd been struck dumb at the sight of Willa coming toward him. She saved the photo of Evan with the intention of showing it to Willa the next time she felt unsure of his feelings for her. The poor kid looked two seconds away from throwing himself at her feet.

"Whoa."

"Hey." Willa shifted from side to side, looking uneasy under Evan's scrutiny. She pretended to adjust the bracelet Ginger lent her to avoid his eyes.

"Willa, stop."

Both sisters gaped at Evan.

"Stop what?" Willa managed.

"I can tell you're freaking out." He held out his hand to her. "Stop."

Ginger watched, fascinated, as Willa's eyes glassed over and she bit her bottom lip. Nodding, she reached out and took his hand.

"You look beautiful," he breathed. — Tessa Bailey

He whistled. "Are you serious? I was sure I saw Mason showing you."
My hand clamped down on his shoulder and he winced, howling under his breath. "Remove the claws, Sam. Seriously. — Tijan

There's a lot of scientific evidence demonstrating that focused attention leads to the reshaping of the brain. In animals rewarded for noticing sound (to hunt or to avoid being hunted, for example), we find much larger auditory centers in the brain. In animals rewarded for sharp eyesight, the visual areas are larger. Brain scans of violinists provide more evidence, showing dramatic growth and expansion in regions of the cortex that represent the left hand, which has to finger the strings precisely, often at very high speed. Other studies have shown that the hippocampus, which is vital for spatial memory, is enlarged in taxi drivers. The point is that the physical architecture of the brain changes according to where we direct our attention and what we practice doing. — Daniel J. Siegel

Once when Newton was away from his astronomical laboratory, he had returned to find that his little poodle dog Diamond had torn into shreds and eaten up part of his map showing distant star points. Perhaps God was punishing him for his neglect of God. He had picked up his poodle from its basket and had brushed its curls with his loving hand as he- not shouting in anger- had whispered serenely, consolingly, "Ah, little Diamond! Diamond! Thou dost not know the harm which thou hast done." Some corner of the universe had been made into pulp. He had left it so. — Marguerite Young

I took my friend's hand as she helped me up. With our hands still linked and our flower crowns tangled in our hair, we danced, laughing with joy, through the rain and towards the school, the lightning showing us our path with its powerful light. — Erica Sehyun Song

To describe heaven it is not necessary to transport the materials of earth there. One must leave earth & its materials where they are, so as to beautify life with its ideal. To address Elohim familiarly is an unseemly buffoonery. The best way of showing him gratitude is not by yelling in his ears that he is mighty, that he created the world, that we are wormlets compared to his greatness. He knows it better than we. Men may excuse themselves of informing him of that. The best way of showing him gratitude is to console humanity, to restore all to it, take it by the hand & treat it like a brother. This is more genuine. — Comte De Lautreamont

In this framework, although church discipline is being thought through afresh by many Christian groups,44 one of the areas where more thought is still needed is the manner in which churches that draw lines in the moral arenas - however graciously, humbly, gently, sometimes by degrees, but also firmly - are not only taking steps to align themselves with Scripture (and with the main strands of Christian heritage, for that matter), but are taking on the culture. Such steps become not only a matter of nurturing and protecting the faithful, but of showing a pluralistic world what Christian living looks like. This will alienate some; under God's good hand, it will draw others, not least because the freedoms promised by pluralism are tearing society apart. In any case, we have little choice: elementary faithfulness demands it. — D. A. Carson

Later, after Abby had lugged Fred back inside and was taking off his jacket, she heard a crinkling sound and reached into the pocket of her coat. Her hand closed around an envelope. She pulled it out and saw her name in neat printing. ABIGAIL. She waited until she was alone in her room to open it, and inside she found a card showing a girl and boy joyfully riding a giant bumblebee, the words Valentine, I'm abuzz over you trailing in the wake of the bee. She flipped the card open. Zander had written BEE MINE, ZANDER in the same neat handwriting. Abby frowned, then smiled, and added the card to the ones she'd received from Rose and Sarah the day before. She hadn't dared to give Zander a Valentine. — Ann M. Martin

We see her go through dangerous mood-swings, but I tried never to come right out and say "Annie was depressed and possibly suicidal that day" or "Annie seemed particularly happy that day."If I have to tell you, I lose. If, on the other hand, I can show you a silent, dirty-haired woman who compulsively gobbles cake and candy, then have you draw the conclusion that Annie is in the depressive part of a manic-depressive cycle, I win. — Stephen King

And that's when Anna realized that what the wolf had been asking Bran for was death.
Impulsively, Anna stepped away from Charles. She put a knee on the bench she'd been sitting on and reached over the back to close her hand on Asil's wrist, which was lying across the back of the pew.
He hissed in shock but didn't pull away. As she held him the scent of wilderness, of sickness, faded. He stared at her, the whites of his eyes showing brightly while his irises narrowed to small bands around his black pupil.
"Omega," he whispered, his breath coming harshly. — Patricia Briggs

Syn couldn't finish a single thought as Furi worked that wonderful gadget inside of him like a professional sex toy representative showing him all the features of the little wonder. Furi stroked Syn's hard cock with one hand, concentrating on the blushing head every few strokes while working the toy in and out of him, increasing in intensity and speed. Syn was so overwhelmed by sensation he was babbling some language that even Rosetta Stone couldn't teach. His — A.E. Via

A hiss of a rock, thrown. Nikandros came up off his knees, drawing his sword. Damen flung out a hand in a motion for halt, stopping Nikandros instantly, his sword showing a half-foot of Akielon steel. He could see the confusion on Nikandros's face, as the courtyard around them began to disintegrate. 'Damianos?' 'Order your men to hold,' said Damen, even as the sharp sound of steel closer by had him turning fast. A — C.S. Pacat

They thought I was a vampire, and it had all been an act. I stared at Jean-Claude's smiling face and the matching scars: his chest, my arm. Jean-Claude's hand pulled me down into a bow. As the applause finally began to fade, Jean-Claude whispered, "We need to talk, Anita. Your friend Catherine's life depends on your actions." I met his eyes and said, "I killed the things that gave me this scar." He smiled broadly, showing just a hint of fang. "What a lovely coincidence. So did I. — Laurell K. Hamilton

His face was so ravaged, it was like looking at death itself. Except for the smooth, silvered part of it. By creeping degrees, his human hand lifted. He turned it over, showing a bloody palm. His cracked lips moved.

Beloved.

He could not say the word, but I knew it.

So did his Fool. — Robin Hobb

The field attracted many extraordinary figures, not least the aforementioned Murchison, who spent the first thirty or so years of his life galloping after foxes, converting aeronautically challenged birds into puffs of drifting feathers with buckshot and showing no mental agility whatever beyond that needed to read The Times or play a hand of cards. — Bill Bryson

I greet all whom I meet today with the love of God. It can be a kind smile, an understanding pause, a touch of a hand that makes all the difference in how someone's day unfolds. I wish to be a conduit of love to those I meet, that I might know a softer way of being and a deeper sense of peace. Let me remember today that all of us are in need of love, both those who make it obvious and those who make it easy to forget. Whether showing their love or hiding it, my brothers are, as I am, in need of understanding. May I be someone who understands. May my selfish nature melt away, dear God, and compassion come to take its place. May everyone I meet or even think of today be blessed by the love I send their way. I will receive as I decide to give, and today I choose to give love. — Marianne Williamson

The body which will be loved is in advance selected and manipulated by the lens, subjected to a kind of zoom effect which magnifies it, brings it closer, and leads the subject to press his nose to the glass: is it not the scintillating object which a skillful hand causes to shimmer before me and will hypnotize me, capture me? This "affective contagion," this induction, proceeds from others, from the language, from books, from friends: no love is original. (Mass culture is a machine for showing desire: here is what must interest you, it says, as if it guessed that men are incapable of finding what to desire by themselves.) — Roland Barthes

But it had happened. I had followed Delia's van that night, I had told Wes my Truths, I had stepped into his arms, showing him my raw, broken heart. I could pretend otherwise, pushing it out of sight and hopefully out of mind. But if something was really important, fate made sure it somehow came back to you and gave you another chance. I'd gotten one reaching out to grab Kristy's hand as she pulled me into the ambulance; another during the trip to the hospital that ended with seeing Avery born. Events conspired to bring you back to where you'd been. It was what you did then that made all the difference: it was all about potential. — Sarah Dessen

Hank was walking barefoot up the dock, carrying his sweatshirt over a freckled shoulder and his boots clamped between thumb and finger of that maimed hand. Lee marveled at the scamper of small muscles across the narrow white back, at the swing of the arms and the lift of the neck. Did it take that much muscle just to walk, or was Hank showing off his manly development? Every moment constituted open aggression against the very air through which Hank passed. He doesn't just breathe, Lee decided, listening to Hank's broken-nosed puffing, he gobbles the oxygen. He doesn't just walk; he consumes distance step by carnivorous step. Open aggression is what it is all right, he concluded.
Yet couldn't help but notice the way those shoulders seemed to savor the swing of the arms, or the way those feel relished the feel of the dock. These people ... am I one of these people? — Ken Kesey

I was at the beginning stages of my pregnancy, and it never really feels real anyway, until you actually start showing and you start to feel the baby kick. Fortunately I didn't have any morning sickness or anything like that. And I really didn't want to be distracted from the work at hand, so I didn't tell anybody. It was really just towards the end of shooting where I was about five months, where I needed to tell a costume designer[ of the True Detective]. — Michelle Monaghan

It's like she has her heart in her hand and it's broken. She's holding it out and showing me all the little pieces. Or maybe it's my heart. — Nyrae Dawn

You see de white gown she wears, richly embroidered, showing de family's wealth and influence," said Daphne authoritatively. "De red rose in her hair symbolizes her Spanish ancestry. De prayer book in her left hand to display de Catholic allegiance."
"What does the dog symbolize?" Sarah asked. Daphne blinked at her for a moment.
"De dog is just a dog," she said, finally. — Magnus Flyte

A twitchy nose popped up underneath her hand, near the rim of the portal. "They're like this all the time. I can't bear it any longer. I can't and I shan't!"
"Edgar!" Lex's face melted into a grin as she lowered her hand. "Oh, man. I've missed you."
Edgar Allan Poe smoothed out his frock coat. "Yes. Well. Your absence has been noted as well. I'm left to fend for myself with these simpering nincompoops."
"Hey, Poe," said Tut. "Your mustache is showing!" He smiled a jockish grin and gave Cordy a high-five.
"I know my mustache is - that's not even a joke - " Edgar's lip quivered. "You see what I mean? It seems the presidents have taught him the ever-popular sport of Torture the Poet. Oh, yes. Taught. Him. Well. — Gina Damico

Give three hundred seconds to your dream. Take a tiny step with big integrity. It takes a step to break to break into a run. The result at hand doesn't matter. The resolve does. Show up for your love. Showing up always shines. — Tama J. Kieves

I have loved works of fiction precisely for their illusions, for the author's sleight-of-hand in showing me the magic, what appeared in the right hand but not in the left ... — Amy Tan

He couldn't take it anymore.
He wrapped his hand around the back of her head and pulled her up, pulled her across his chest, pulled her into a kiss so filthily explicit his tongue might as well have been fucking her mouth.
They groaned in unison and he wrapped his hand over hers, forcing her fingers tight around his erection, showing her how to pull up, the loose skin sliding over his hot core - oh, sweet, sweet God - and down, fisting tight, moving faster, his hips pumping up into their shared grasp.
She moaned and his hips jerked at the sound.
And then she sucked his tongue and hot pleasure speared him. He convulsed, spunk spewing over his fingers, over hers. He smeared them both in it as he yanked himself through it, shuddering. — Elizabeth Hoyt

I think there's something so wonderful about being part of the process from the seed of the idea to seeing it come to life on a screen. And to have a hand in that creatively, not just showing up as an actor for hire. — Jennifer Aniston

He acted every part of an orator, and I could observe many periods of threatenings, and others of promises, pity, and kindness. I answered in a few words, but in the most submissive manner, lifting up my left hand, and both my eyes to the sun, as calling him for a witness; and being almost famished with hunger, having not eaten a morsel for some hours before I left the ship, I found the demands of nature so strong upon me, that I could not forbear showing my impatience (perhaps against the strict rules of decency) by putting my finger frequently to my mouth, to signify that I wanted food. The hurgo — Jonathan Swift

You just couldn't wait to get me naked, could you, Princess?" Loki asked tiredly. I started to pull my hand back, but he put his own hand over it, keeping it in place.
"No, I - I was checking for wounds," I stumbled. I wouldn't meet his gaze.
"I'm sure." He moved his thumb, almost caressing my hand, until it hit my ring. "What's that?" He tried to sit up to see it, so I lifted my hand, showing him the emerald-encrusted oval on my finger. "Is that a wedding ring?"
"No, engagement." I lowered my hand, resting it on the bed next to him. "I'm not married yet."
"I'm not too late, then." He smiled and settled back in the bed.
"Too late for what?" I asked.
"To stop you, of course." Still smiling, he closed his eyes. — Amanda Hocking

Note the significant fact that we always hear of the "fall of man," not the fall of woman, showing that the consensus of human thought has been more unerring than masculine interpretation. Reading this narrative carefully, it is amazing that any set of men ever claimed that the dogma of the inferiority of woman is here set forth. The conduct of Eve from the beginning to the end is so superior to that of Adam. The command not to eat of the fruit of the tree of Knowledge was given to the man alone before woman was formed. Genesis ii, 17. Therefore the injunction was not brought to Eve with the impressive solemnity of a Divine Voice, but whispered to her by her husband and equal. It was a serpent supernaturally endowed, a seraphim as Scott and other commentators have claimed, who talked with Eve, and whose words might reasonably seem superior to the second-hand story of her — Elizabeth Cady Stanton

Do you fancy catching a movie at the Sturbridge Theater tonight? That new Robert Pattinson movie is showing," I ask her, the phone cradled against my chest.
"Definitely sign me up for that!" Ari replies, chuckling as I mock scowl. Her easy laugh warms my soul.
"We're in," I tell Gil, arranging to meet him and his date in the diner later.
"So, who is it this time?" Ari asks, resting her chin in her hands. "Anyone we know?"
Considering I can count the girls on one hand who have enjoyed more than one date with Gil, I doubt it'll be someone familiar. "I didn't ask; guess we'll find out soon enough."
"Five bucks says it's a blonde," Ari quips.
"That's one bet I'm not taking," I admit, twirling a lock of her hair around my finger. "Gil's penchant for blondes is world-renowned. — Siobhan Davis

If you're dealing with personal kind of acting, you're not going to want to open up and expose it to everybody, because that's where the power lies, you know? It would be a little like showing your hand in poker, and then hoping you can still win. — Jim Parrack

You don't have to be kind. You have to be calm. Once you start showing that people can affect your emotions, then you obviously don't have that much power. If a stewardess can affect your emotional life, then you don't have any power in life and you just showed your whole hand. — Vincent Kartheiser

He [Reed] had never overtly flirted with me; his way of showing me he cared was always subtle. Touching my hand. Meeting my eyes across a room. Playing my favorite songs when we were driving in his car. He was secretive about everything he did, including revealing emotion ... — Becca Fitzpatrick

My eyes have really only been opened since you came into my world. You gave me everything. You made me really want to see what was around me, for the first time in my adult life. You made me want you. You made me want ... a life. You were my greatest give of all, Ethan James Blackstone." She reached up to touch my face and held her palm there, her eyes showing me so much of what she felt.
I covered her palm on my cheek with my hand. "As you were for me, my beautiful American girl. — Raine Miller

What silliness that we must consider the proper order of milk and tea when pouring a cup."
Callie swallowed back a laugh. "I suppose you do not place much stock in such ceremony in Venice?"
"No. It is liquid. It is warm. It is not coffee. Why worry?" Juliana's smile flashed, showing a dimple in her cheek.
"Why indeed?" Callie said, wondering, fleetingly, if Juliana's brothers had such an endearing trait.
"Do not be concerned," Juliana held up a hand dramatically. "I shall endeavor to remember tea first, milk second. I should hate to cause another war between Britain and the Continent."
Callie laughed, accepting a cup of perfectly poured tea from the younger woman. "I am certain that Parliament will thank you for your diplomacy. — Sarah MacLean

Thank you, Ocean," I said to the sea. "Thank you for rolling relentlessly around the world and showing us how everything's connected. Thank you, Stars," I said looking up. "For shining down from such a distance. You show us how small we are and yet how magnificent it is to be alive. Thank you, Earth, for holding everything all together and giving us a place to walk, and sleep, and love." I squeezed Josh's hand. "And thank you, Josh, for being earth and water and stardust and for coming to me in the uniqueness of yourself. — Catou Martine

I always market research my books before I hand them in by showing them to five or six close friends who I trust to be honest with me, so they are very heavily re-written already. — Helen Fielding

It makes no difference to me whether I shoot you or you fall to your death."
"It does make a difference," I said, my voice small but confident. "You and I share the same blood." I lifted my hand precariously, showing him my birthmark. "I'm your descendant. If I sacrifice my blood, Patch will become human and you'll die. It's written in The Book of Enoch. — Becca Fitzpatrick

Strike's eyes followed her hand, but what caught his attention was not the small stack of neatly written papers she was showing him, but the sapphire engagement ring.

There was a pause. Robin wondered why her heart was pummeling her ribs. How ridiculous to feel defensive . . . it was up to her whether she married Matthew . . . ludicrous even to feel she had to state that to herself . . . — Robert Galbraith

The swaying figure's white, haggard face was rough with beard-stubble. His shirt was in tatters which blew back behind him in twisted ribbons, showing the starved stack of his ribs. A filthy rag was wrapped around his right hand. He looked sick, sick and dying, but even so he also looked tough enough to make Andolini feel like a soft-boiled egg. — Stephen King

In England on a hot day, women are happy to walk around with their bra straps showing. In Paris, they don't shave their armpits. And you just can't mention Germany and style in the same book, let alone the same sentence. It's the same story in America too, where the Farrah Fawcett haido of 1975 still reigns supreme. In Italy, even the policemenists look like they've just come off a catwalk. One I found, standing on a rostrum in the middle of a Roman square, was immaculate, as was his routine. Each wave of the hand, each toot of the whistle and each twist of the body was Pans People perfect. Never mind that the traffic was completely ignoring him, he looked good, and that's what mattered. Looking good in Italy is even more important than looking where you're going. — Jeremy Clarkson

The wisdom mind is the core of your being. It is happy, simple, at peace and hopeful, filled with dignity, and self-pride, but always showing humility, for it is aware that all are equal and possess the same wisdom mind. It desires happiness for you and for those around you, being compassionate, sincere, and generous. The ordinary mind on the other hand, surrounds the wisdom mind as a swirling vortex of racing thoughts and ideas, along with negative and troubling emotions, clouding your view of your wisdom mind and causing you much pain and suffering. As — Michael Tsiaming

I'm calling the police," she said, showing him the phone in her hand.
He smiled, and for a moment she forgot about the phone. "You don't need the police."
No, of course she didn't How silly. — Linda Howard

Elisandra read while I tried my hand at embroidering a pillowcase that she lent me. The results were execrable. I had no skill with a needle, and no desire to learn, either.
'I wouldn't shame a dog by laying this upon his bed,' I remarked, showing Elisandra my efforts. She actually smiled.
'I like it,' she said. 'I'll put it on one of my pillows.'
'Bryan won't let you sleep in the same bed with him if you bring this as your dowry,' I said with an attempt at humor.
She bent her head back over her book. 'Then stitch me another. — Sharon Shinn

Behind me the radiator goes on, giving yet another encore performance. Tink, tink, tink, tink.The warmth slowly comes up on my back. Hard worker, that heater. The bulb, on the other hand, is doing a flickering thing, showing some signs of fatigue. You're losing, bulb. — Veronica Rossi

His hand caresses my cheek. "Scarlett, I don't want to lose you by fucking up our friendship. I want you in my life, and if we d this, I will lose you. If that means showing some self-restraint for once in my goddamn life, then I will." Both his hands cup my cheeks. "You make me want to be a better person. This is me being a better person. — Denise Grover Swank

We laughed, then Keir took my hand. "I've something to show Lara down by the river. We will return."

Marcus put his hands on his hips. "None of that, now. There's a celebration to start, and no time for 'showing' her - "

Keir cut him off, as I blushed. "We'll be back in time."

Marcus gave him an evil smile. "I'll have the first meats waiting."

Keir grimaced, and grabbed my hand. "Come, Lara. — Elizabeth Vaughan