Sleeping In Her Arms Quotes & Sayings

Lady of the silver moon
Enchantress of the night
Protect me and mine within this circle fairly cast.
Earth Mother, mother of the sleeping earth,
Keep safe all who gather here
Within the protective shelter of your arms.
By the earth that is Her body,
By the air that is Her breath,
By the fire that is Her bright spirit,
And by the living waters of Her womb,
Our circle is cast,
None shall come to harm here,
From any forces,
On any level.
As we will,
So shall it be done.
As we will,
So mote it be. — Madelyn Alt

Warm are the still and lucky miles, White shores of longing stretch away, A light of recognition fills The whole great day, and bright The tiny world of lovers' arms. Silence invades the breathing wood Where drowsy limbs a treasure keep, Now greenly falls the learned shade Across the sleeping brows And stirs their secret to a smile. Restored! Returned! The lost are borne On seas of shipwreck home at last: See! In a fire of praising burns The dry dumb past, and we Our life-day long shall part no more. — W. H. Auden

Do you trust me, Pidge?" I asked, a little nervous.
"Yeah, why?"
"C'mere," I said, pulling her against me. I waited for her to protest, but she only froze for a few moments before letting her body melt into mine. Her cheek relaxed against my chest.
Instantly, my eyes felt heavy. Tomorrow I would try to think of a way to postpone her departure, but in that moment, sleeping with her in my arms was the only thing I wanted to do. — Jamie McGuire

Danse Russe If I when my wife is sleeping and the baby and Kathleen are sleeping and the sun is a flame-white disc in silken mists above shining trees,
if I in my north room dance naked, grotesquely before my mirror waving my shirt round my head and singing softly to myself: "I am lonely, lonely. I was born to be lonely, I am best so!" If I admire my arms, my face, my shoulders, flanks, buttocks against the yellow drawn shades,
Who shall say I am not the happy genius of my household? — William Carlos Williams

Mom and Dad sleep soundly atop the white cushion, her in his lap and their legs tangled together. His handsome profile is scruffy, his nose buried in her long, pinkish blond hair. The strands twitch, alive with magic. Her gauzy wings are folded behind her like a butterfly's at rest.
They look so lovely together, the White knight and his fairy bride, in one another's arms at last. In spite of all they went through to reach this place, their love never faltered. They deserve this more than anyone I know. — A.G. Howard

There is a certain proper and luxurious way of lying in bed. Confucius, that great artist of life, "never lay straight" in bed, "like a corpse", but always curled up on one side. I believe one of the greatest pleasures of life is to curl up one's legs in bed. The posture of the arms is also very important, in order to reach the greatest degree of aesthetic pleasure and mental power. I believe the best posture is not lying flat on the bed, but being upholstered with big soft pillows at an angle of thirty degrees with either one arm or both arms placed behind the back of one's head. — Lin Yutang

These flowers, which were splendid and sprightly, waking in the dawn of the morning, in the evening will be a pitiful frivolity, sleeping in the cold night's arms. — Pedro Calderon De La Barca

God what an outfield,' he says. 'What a left field.' He looks up at me, and I look down at him. 'This must be heaven,' he says.
No. It's Iowa,' I reply automatically. But then I feel the night rubbing softly against my face like cherry blossoms; look at the sleeping girl-child in my arms, her small hand curled around one of my fingers; think of the fierce warmth of the woman waiting for me in the house; inhale the fresh-cut grass small that seems locked in the air like permanent incense; and listen to the drone of the crowd, as below me Shoelss Joe Jackson tenses, watching the angle of the distant bat for a clue as to where the ball will be hit.
I think you're right, Joe,' I say, but softly enough not to disturb his concentration. — W.P. Kinsella

Sometimes as I'm drifting toward sleep, in the beginnings of that dissolution, I wonder where I am, when this is, and realize that at these moments I could be anywhere, anytime, for all I know: eight and napping in the trailer, my broken arm in a cast, or thirteen at night clutching a pillow to my neck, or twenty in the arms of my boyfriend, or twenty-seven in the arms of my husband, or thirty-three next to my imaginary daughter; at every place in the whole spinning shape that is my life, when I am falling asleep, I am the same person, the identical awareness, the same fuzzball of mind, the same muck of nerves, all along the line. I forage through my life and everywhere - there, there, and there - it is only me in it, the very same me, the same harmless lump, the same soggy weirdo, the same sleeping, breathing bun. — Lorrie Moore

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

Tiger Lily went back into the house, from which she kept watch of the ocean. She held her arms around her stomach and stayed awake. She didn't want him to catch her sleeping.
Peter did not come that night, or the next day, and she stayed awake. She did not believe he could have really gone, because for her, to leave the person you loved was impossible.
For three days, she kept on studying the horizon, even speaking to it, as if a ship that had already disappeared could hear her. "Choose me."
And Peter did choose. But he chose something else. — Jodi Lynn Anderson

Stop glaring at me, baby. You were the one who attacked me and got you knocked up." Patrick turned to smile at her. He had a knack for reading her mind.
"I'm pregnant, and it's your fault."
"You took advantage of a sleeping man." He walked up to her, wrapped his arms around her waist, and dropped a kiss on her lips. "How was I to refuse a woman what she wanted?"
"Say no."
"When it comes to you that word doesn't exist to me. — Sam Crescent

Bryn," I murmured, twisting around to see his sleeping face steeped in the brightness of the day. I stroked my fingers down his cheek and ran my hands through his silky mane of black hair. I must be dead, I mused, for certainly waking up in Bryn's arms is heaven. — D.T. Dyllin

She was not certain what she wanted from life, or what to expect from it, for she had seen so little of it, but she was sure that in some way - because she willed it to be so - her wants and her expectations were the same.
For a while after their marriage she was in such demand that it was not unpleasant when he fell asleep. Presently, however, he began sleeping all night, and it was then she awoke more frequently, and looked into the darkness, wondering about the nature of men, doubtful of the future, until at last there came a night when she shook her husband awake and spoke of her own desire. Affably he placed one of his long white arms around her waist; she turned to him then, contentedly, expectantly, and secure. However, nothing else occurred, and in a few minutes he had gone back to sleep.
This was the night Mrs. Bridge concluded that while marriage might be an equitable affair, love itself was not. — Evan S. Connell

She has never liked sleeping alone. Even as a small child, she would steel herself to brave the black soup of the room as far as her brother's bed, creeping in beside him. And he, who when awake would rather fight than talk, would put his arms around her and stroke her hair until their warmness mingled and she fell asleep. — Sarah Dunant

His eyebrows pulled in, and then he cradled me to him with both arms, still staring out the window. I watch you sleeping a lot. You always look so peaceful. I don't have that kind of quiet. I have all this anger and rage boiling inside of me - except when I watch you sleep. — Jamie McGuire

He reached down and fingered his hoodie on the bed. 'You sleeping with this?' His voice grew raspy. I shrugged. 'Maybe.' He growled, wrapped his arms around me, and buried his face in my shoulder. 'You really test my limits,' he said. Then I heard him mumble, 'Already.' 'Your limits?' I asked, pulling back to look at him. 'If you were any other girl, I would already have you naked and beneath me.' His words should have shocked me. Maybe made me angry. They didn't. They turned me on. I shivered with newfound desire. He groaned and sat me aside and stood from the bed. 'You're killing me, Smalls.' 'Smalls?' I giggled. He grinned. 'That's what we call the small players on the team.' 'I'm not on your team.' I pointed out. 'No. But you are mine.'"
"- Romeo & Rimmel — Cambria Hebert

When you were sleeping on the sofa I put my ear to your ear and listened to the echo of your dreams. That is the ocean I want to dive in, merge with the bright fish, plankton and pirate ships. I walk up to people on the street that kind of look like you and ask them the questions I would ask you. Can we sit on a rooftop and watch stars dissolve into smoke rising from a chimney? Can I swing like Tarzan in the jungle of your breathing? I don't wish I was in your arms, I just wish I was peddling a bicycle toward your arms. — Jeffrey McDaniel

There, on that hill, his wife could be seen. She lay like a sleeping boulder, the air and toxins wearing away at her, her arms curled under her head. Maybe. — Hugh Howey

When the Georgian army started this assault against the sleeping city of Tskhinvali, the Georgian peacekeepers, serving in one contingent with their Russian friends, joined the army and started killing the Russian comrades in arms. — Sergei Lavrov

What misery to live in this world! We are like men whose enemies are at the door, who must not lay aside their arms, even while sleeping or eating, and are always in dread lest the foe should enter the fortress by some breach in the walls. O my Lord and my all! How canst thou wish us to prize such a wretched existence? — Teresa Of Avila

And he thinks that if his soul had a form, this is what it would be. A baby sleeping in his arms. — Neal Shusterman

I missed you like I've never missed anyone. I missed the future I was going to have with you. I missed the feeling of having you in my arms like this. I missed hearing your voice and seeing your face and sleeping next to you. I missed all of it because I was sure it was gone. — Allie Everhart

Sleeping under the moon and stars in the arms of a naked lover, the two of you cradled by furs and soft leaves, lulled by the gentle murmur of the chestnut trees and the far-off rumble of a waterfall, is terribly romantic. Sleeping under a crude lean-to, squashed into a soggy mass between a large, wet husband and an equally large, equally wet nephew, listening to rain thrump on the branches overhead while fending off the advances of a immense and thoroughly saturated dog, is slightly less so. — Diana Gabaldon

She seems to think that running off and leaving me heartbroken is a good idea, so I decided that I'm going to take her home with me every single day to remind her that my heart beats only for her. That my day starts with her running through my mind and ends with her sleeping in my arms. — Claire Contreras

All to prove to her I'm not lying and I'm not sleeping around on her. She's a vagina with arms, and legs, and two faces. Do you know what it's like to have your penis ridden by a two-hundred thirty pound woman?" He stood now, looking traumatized. — Lucian Bane

Jesus sleeping in his mother's arms subliminally reinforce his counsel that we should learn to regard all our fellow human beings as if they were children. — Alain De Botton

And me not sleeping tonight or tomorrow night or any night for a long while, now that this has started. And he thought of her lying on the bed with the two technicians standing straight over her, not bent with concern, but only standing straight, arms folded. And he remembered thinking then that if she died, he was certain he wouldn't cry. For it would be the dying of an unknown, a street face, a newspaper image, and it was suddenly so very wrong that he had begun to cry, not at death but at the thought of not crying at death, a silly empty man near a silly empty woman, while the hungry snake made her still more empty.

How do you get so empty? he wondered. Who takes it out of you? And that awful flower the other day, the dandelion! It had summed up everything, hadn't it? 'What a shame! You're not in love with anyone!' And why not? — Ray Bradbury

After you fell asleep, I moved the video camera closer to us. I wrapped my arms around you and listened to you breathe until I fell asleep.
Sometimes when I have trouble sleeping, I'll play that video.. — Colleen Hoover

Lay your sleeping head, my love, Human on my faithless arm; — W. H. Auden

It is the Germans who are responsible for the fact that I became a fabricator of arms. If not for them, I would have constructed agricultural machines. ( ... ) If someone asks me how I can sleep at night knowing that my arms have killed millions of people, I respond that I have no problem sleeping, my conscience is clean. I constructed arms to defend my country. — Mikhail Kalashnikov

He passed out in my arms. I don't know how long we stayed like that with my hands tangled in his knotted hair like I was trying to pray. I couldn't tell if I was sleeping; it was so dark, I thought my eyes were closed even when they were open. — Raziel Reid

In the middle of a novel, a kind of magical thinking takes over. To clarify, the middle of the novel may not happen in the actual geographical centre of the novel. By middle of the novel I mean whatever page you are on when you stop being part of your household and your family and your partner and children and food shopping and dog feeding and reading the post - I mean when there is nothing in the world except your book, and even as your wife tells you she's sleeping with your brother her face is a gigantic semi-colon, her arms are parentheses and you are wondering whether rummage is a better verb than rifle. The middle of a novel is a state of mind. Strange things happen in it. Time collapses. — Zadie Smith

Tell me you're bare underneath the dress."
She gulped. "I'm bare underneath this dress."
Gently dropping her arms back to her sides, he slid his finger down the center of her chest. Tingles shot out from the tips of her breasts and gathered at the base of her spine, between her legs. "Tell me you want me as much as I want you," he said, his voice husky.
Never had she imagined doing something as reckless as sleeping with a guy for one night. But this wasn't any guy. And it wasn't just about her getting off
God, how she needed to do that. It was about closure. Saying goodbye on her terms. It might be a bad idea, but it was the best bad idea she'd ever had.
She dropped the panties and put her hands on his chest.
"I want you. — Robin Bielman

Sleeping Wrestler

You are a murderer
No you are not, but really a wrestler
Either way it's just the same
For from the ring of your entangled body
Clean as leather, lustful as a lily
Will nail me down
On your stout neck like a column, like a pillar of tendons
The thoughtful forehead
(In fact, it's thinking nothing)
When the forehead slowly moves and closes the heavy eyelids
Inside, a dark forest awakens
A forest of red parrots
Seven almonds and grape leaves
At the end of the forest a vine
Covers the house where two boys
Lie in each others arms: I'm one of them, you the other
In the house, melancholy and terrible anxiety
Outside the keyhole, a sunset
Dyed with the blood of the beautiful bullfighter Escamillo
Scorched by the sunset, headlong, headfirst
Falling, falling, a gymnast
If you're going to open your eyes, nows the time, wrestler — Mutsuo Takahashi

Experimenting with touch, he found he barely had to ripple a light fingertip over his sleeping lover, and Tristan would move, twisting until he was melted into Michael's embrace. Stroking Tristan's cheek got Michael a sleepy kiss. Touching Tristan's back or sliding a hand down his spine earned Michael the satisfying squeeze of arms around him. And squeezing Tristan's ass got him a fully awake and erect boy-toy looking for love. — Z.A. Maxfield

The next night I sat at the table at dinnertime, too, and ate soup and bread with preserves. Before she blew out the candles, Drenka spread a sheet across the sofa and called me over. I felt my spine lengthen like it hadn't during the weeks of sleeping contracted on the kitchen floor, and I stretched my arms over my head and pushed myself deep into the cushions of the couch. — Sara Novic

Do ghosts have to be forgiven? All I remember of the funeral is, 'Your husband was a brilliant man.' Was that all the comfort that I had to draw on? I wanted to announce, 'Yes he was a brilliant man and now like all the great minds he is dead.' Sometimes I cry myself to sleep, sniffling, stifling my sobs in my pillows. Sometimes I fall asleep the minute my head hits the pillow and find my arms reaching across the other side of the bed for Kenny so I can whisper sweet nothings in his ear as he falls asleep.

I reached out for the bottle of sleeping tablets on my bedside table and swallowed them one by one. — Abigail George

It was about falling asleep with Sam's chest pressed against my back so I could feel his heart slow to match mine. It was about growing up and realizing that the feel of his arms around me, the smell of him when he was sleeping, the sound of his breathing
that was home and everything I wanted at the end of the day. It wasn't the same as being with him and we were awake. — Maggie Stiefvater

I held her tight all night. Later on when Gabe came in I told him I was keeping her. With a smirk he told me he'd return with some fresh clothes. A year ago I wouldn't have picked him out of a crowd - now it felt like he was my best friend. And I owed it all to the girl sleeping in my arms. — Rachel Van Dyken

We were hooked when we woke.
We had arms for each other.
But I yearned to resume
My dreams of another. — Roman Payne

Even here - running for our lives, sleeping exposed, facing death - even here, in her arms, I was able to find some measure of peace. — Ransom Riggs

He was only five-foot-ten, but people frequently mistook him for being over six feet, at least in part because his gigantic Afro made him appear larger than life. His thin, angular frame, which was shaped like an inverted triangle, furthered this illusion; he had narrow hips, a small waist, but impossibly wide shoulders and arms. His fingers were abnormally long and sinuous, and like the rest of him, they were a rich caramel color. His bandmates jokingly called him "The Bat" because of his preference for covering his windows and sleeping during the day, but the nickname also fit his penchant for wearing capes, which furthered his superhero appearance. — Charles R. Cross

If we do this, it's one time. One night that we never talk about to anyone, and I mean anyone. We never mentioned it again. No pressure. No expectations. No sleeping over or phone call in the morning. This is about sex, pure and simple. Can you handle that?
Veronica's breath hitched as a rich wave of sexual heat assaulted his senses. She was ready for him, her body going pliant in his arms. "You sure do have a lot of rules. — Kristin Miller

The summer sun continued to rise in the sky and propel shocks of heat down on the city and the heavy moisture moistened bodies and clothing, and people fanned and wiped at sweating faces trying to survive another bitch of a day as Harry and Marion peacefully passed the day sleeping in each others arms oblivious to the reality surrounding them. — Hubert Selby Jr.

Sometime later, I stood watching the cold rain fall, when suddenly I felt Daemon's arms around me and his lips on my neck. He loved my pregnant body and his hands roamed over it under the warm terrycloth of my bathrobe. I was lost in the moment, content to stay here forever ... lost in the cold rain and welcoming warmth of Dublin, and lost in the arms of my husband. Since we arrived early this morning we were in our room, making love and sleeping, lost in a fairy tale moment, savoring every caress. — Rebecca Boucher

As they went out of the room Rosa turned to look at Tommy and had an impulse to go back, to get into bed with him and just lie there for a while feeling that deep longing, that sense of missing him desperately, that came over her whenever she held him sleeping in her arms. — Michael Chabon

Travis was still asleep, surrounding me with both his arms and his legs. I maneuvered an arm free to reach over and pound the snooze button. Wiping my face, I looked over at him, sleeping soundly two inches from my face. — Jamie McGuire

From that time on they both looked forward to sleeping together. I might even say that the goal of their lovemaking was not so much pleasure as the sleep that followed it. She especially was affected. Whenever she stayed overnight in her rented room (which quickly became only an alibi for Tomas), she was unable to fall asleep; in his arms she would fall asleep no matter how wrought up she might have been. He would whisper impromptu fairy tales about her, or gibberish, words he repeated monotonously, words soothing or comical, which turned into vague visions lulling her through the first dreams of the night. He had complete control over her sleep: she dozed off at the second he chose. — Milan Kundera

My arms and legs were wrapped like tentacles around Echo, my nymph who lay sleeping with her back against me. — Katie McGarry

It seemed Mr. Kitty wanted its food unwrapped. The only good thing was it released her arms, and then her body, as it wiggled back, taking her sleeping bag with it. Prey exposed, the jaguar proceeded to sniff its way up her body. The brush of a damp nose, too close to her girl parts, made her pull up her legs. "Perv. Stay out of there. I've sworn off men for this trip, and that goes for big kitty cats too." It — Eve Langlais

The story of the world is not the story of coups and revolutions. It is the story of lost keys and burnt coffee and a sleeping child in your arms. History is the untallied sum of a million everyday moments. — Eric Weiner

It was two years ago that I first met Yuki. I remember that painfully thin figure covered in dirt: malnourished, exhausted and carrying a sleeping child in his arms like it's the most precious thing in the world. — Kyuugou

He would also have the additional duties of attendant. In that capacity, he would report directly to the Prince. The duties described to him seemed to be a mixture of man-at-arms, adjutant and bed slave - ensuring the Prince's safety, attending to his personal comfort, sleeping in his tent - Damen's whole attention swung back to Radel. "Sleeping in his tent?" "Where else?" He passed a hand over his face. Laurent had agreed to this? The — C.S. Pacat

I like this idea of generation after generation helping children on the streets, kids who have run away fleeing violence. I like the whole idea of opening arms for children who have nowhere else to go, sleeping by dumpsters. — Laura Bush

Consider
a girl who keeps slipping off,
arms limp as old carrots,
into the hypnotist's trance,
into a spirit world
speaking with the gift of tongues. — Anne Sexton