Strokes You Quotes & Sayings

It's nothing but a big stroke job in this country. The government strokes you every day of your life. Religion never stops stroking you. Big business gives you a good stroke. And it's one big, transcontinental, cross-country, red, white and blue stroke job ... Do you know what the national emblem for this country ought to be? Forget that bald eagle. The national emblem of this country ought to be Uncle Sam standing naked at attention saluting, and seated on a chair next to him, the Statue of Liberty jerking him off. That would be a good symbol for the United Strokes of America. — George Carlin

Leaning close enough for me to count his whiskers, he mines my vag for oil and says softly, "You do what you gotta do, and so will I. We're heading to the bus. When we get there, I need you humping my face. Breathing is optional. Orgasms are mandatory. You don't leave until you squirt at least twice. Understand?"

I try in vain to catch my breath. "We may be in for a long night."

The corner of his mouth twitches into a smile, and he slows his strokes. "I hope so. — Kendall Grey

A wave of nausea came over me. And yet. Sometimes you need a stroke of genius and, lo and behold, genius comes and strokes you — Nicole Krauss

One of the advantages of a life much longer than average was that you saw how fragile the future was. Men said things like "peace in our time" or "an empire that will last a thousand years," and less than half a lifetime later no one even remembered who they were, let alone what they had said or where the mob had buried their ashes. What changed history were smaller things. Often a few strokes of the pen would do the trick. — Terry Pratchett

Serenity barely heard the last of his words as he made his way out of the cabin. Instead, her attention was on the quick, clean strokes of Morgan's writing. It amazed her that a pirate would be literate. Especially one sold so young to the sea.
She broke the seal.
I feel like a weed in the midst of Winter. 'Tis the sunshine of your smile that will bring back the Spring of my days. We arrive in four days. I hope you will grace me again with your presence.
Yours,
Morgan
She traced the flowing letters with the tip of her finger and couldn't suppress a smile. A poetic pirate no less. Who would have thought? — Kinley MacGregor

I began to turn my body, but he held me and laid me back onto the bed, insistently, kissing my breasts but not lingering, kissing a line down my stomach and lower. "You want me to prove to you that I want you more than I've ever wanted anything in my life, Roses. Is that true, aye? Because I just can't take this anymore."
I gasped as he licked into my sensitive flesh, wetting me with his soft strokes, speaking soft words against my skin. "If you insist on doubting me, Roses, if you absolutely insist on breaking down every defense that I have with your tears and your plush, wet, ripe beauty, then that's what I'll have to do, lass. Is that what you want from me? Proof?"
I could only sigh a soft response, already falling, burning, wanting too much. — Juliette Miller

Being sensitive to the problem of women is just another symptom of the quality of movies: I don't think you can do anything that's very sensitive. Everything's sort of broad strokes and big gestures - adventure things that boys, guys want to see. — Teri Garr

He grabbed a handful of God's silky curls and pulled, making him tilt his head back and show his throat. Day's senses snapped, turning feral. Day growled with the animalistic urge to leave a large bite mark on his man. Day bowed forward as his cock's first eruption of a thick, white rope of come hit God's Adam's apple, followed by much more painting his lover's neck and cheek. Day pulled slow, firm strokes up to his head before dragging back down until he was completely emptied. "Mmmhmm. I'm yours, sweetheart," God said, giving him a sexy grin. "Fucking right you are," Day said while he kissed and licked God's face clean. — A.E. Via

Do not mock my baby." He pulls away and strokes his palm over he seat. "She was my first love."
"Well your current ... er ... girl, is getting jealous with all the attention you're paying your first love, and she has orifices you can stick things in without having your boy bits burnt off."
He pulls me into him again and his mouth goes to work on my neck. "Fuck I love it when you talk dirty. — Carmen Jenner

Barrett strokes one of the chair's slick, bile-green arms. "You can get attached to just about anything, can't you?" he says. — Michael Cunningham

You should often amuse yourself when you take a walk for recreation, in watching and taking note of the attitudes and actions of men as they talk and dispute, or laugh or come to blows with one another ... noting these down with rapid strokes, in a little pocket-book which you ought always to carry with you. — Leonardo Da Vinci

Bragging that you finished in two strokes. Just like a man."--Sloane Barrett, Killer Curves — Naima Simone

Magellan went around the world in 1521, which is not too many strokes when you consider the distance. — Joe Laurie Jr.

The Strokes, you bond when you're 18, and you're friends. The feeling's different. When all of us get into a room, we feel like the same people from before. We weren't anybody; we were just hanging out. It's hard to understand if you're not in a band. You're one-fifth. — Albert Hammond Jr.

The doctor holds up her hands. I'm not going to hurt you. I need to check your tummy. Here. She gives me a cold, round sucky thing and she lets me play with it. You put it on your tummy, and I won't touch you and I can hear your tummy. The doctor is good ... the doctor is Mommy.
My new mommy is pretty. She's like an angel. A doctor angel. She strokes my hair. I like it when she strokes my hair. She lets me eat ice cream and cake. She doesn't shout when she finds the bread and apples hidden in my shoes. Or under my bed. Or under my pillow. Darling, the food is in the kitchen. Just find me or Daddy when you're hungry. Point with your fingers. Can cou do that? ... — E.L. James

A person may profit by noticing the first intimation of the spirit of revelation; for instance, when you feel pure intelligence flowing into you, it may give you sudden strokes of ideas, so that by noticing it, you may find it fulfilled the same day or soon; [that is,] those things that were presented unto your minds by the Spirit of God, will come to pass; and thus by learning the Spirit of God and understanding it, you may grow into the principle of revelation, until you become perfect in Christ Jesus. — Sam Smith

You know how they say Black Flag got in a van, and they brought punk rock to the world? The Strokes got on a bus, and they brought "downtown cool" to the world. Along with the Internet, they were changing everything, not just music. They were changing attitudes. The Strokes were making New York travel with them. I saw kids in Connecticut and Maine and Philadelphia and DC looking like they had just been drinking on Avenue A all night. Sixteen-year-old kids in white belts and Converse Chuck Taylors with the greasy hair - hair that had been clean a week ago. Those kids had probably never even smelled the inside of a thrift store before Is This It came out. They found a band that they wanted to be like. They found their band. APRIL — Lizzy Goodman

Putting isn't golf, greens should be treated almost the same as water hazards: you land on them, then add two strokes to your score. — Chi Chi Rodriguez

You know when you become friends with someone, you don't even remember? When you weren't friends? You're just kinda like, 'When were we not friends? When I met you, weren't we just already friends?' I have the same thing with the Strokes guys. — Albert Hammond Jr.

It's about, I did talk about my life in broad strokes and what home meant to me in order to really explore the subject of home and can you go back and what that means for people in that sense of community that we've lost. — Sela Ward

Luck is a fickle girl who doesn't like lingering in any one place; she strokes your hair back from your brow, kisses you quickly and flits away. Lady Misfortune, by contrast, presses you tightly to her loving heart; she says she's not in a hurry, sits down beside your bed and knits. — Heine

I've been a fool to wait as long as I have." He gently untied her wrists and rolled her onto her back beneath him. She savored his warmth, enjoying the rapid beat of his heart against her cheek. "Please say you'll always belong to me." He kissed her mouth, her cheeks, her nose, her forehead.
"I always have." Her hands glided over his shoulders and down his arms in soothing strokes.
"I want to be able to do this to you every night and every morning. I want to share my life, my name and my soul with you, Horatia."
"I've only ever wanted your heart," she replied.

-His Wicked Seduction — Lauren Smith

'Tis true there is much to be done, ... but stick to it steadily, and you will see great effects, for constant dropping wears away stones ... and little strokes fell great oaks, as Poor Richard says ... — Benjamin Franklin

Shut me up,
Turn me on,
Shut me up, — The Strokes

You don't need to play every ball on back foot. Some balls in life deserve to be played on front foot. Every ball needs good judgement to extend the limit. — Amit Ray

Will it ever stop?" he mused, more to himself than me as another finger joined the one sliding in and out of me with taunting, indolent strokes. "Wanting you - every hour, every breath. I don't think I can stand a thousand years of this." My hips moved with him, driving him deeper. "Think of how my productivity will plummet. — Sarah J. Maas

On the way out, I hug Mum, holding her close. 'Thank you,' I whisper. 'For dinner - and for everything.'

Mum smiles and strokes my cheek. 'There's nothing to thank me for. — Liz Kessler

I obey. He tosses my jeans aside and settles between my legs and grabs hold of my wrists again. With his other hand, he lubes up his dick, then guides it to the place that aches for him. "Fucking fuck me," I beg. Humor dances in his eyes. "I'm not going to fuck you." Now I'm groaning again. Goddamn it. If he plans on torturing me again, I really will lose my mind - "I'm going to make love to you," he finishes. My breath hitches. Smiling, Wes drops his mouth to mine. Our lips lock at the same moment he slowly slides inside me. The burn of pleasure makes me gasp but he swallows the sound with a soft, sweet kiss that matches the soft, sweet strokes of his cock. He fills me. Completes me. My dick is an iron spike against my belly, and I struggle against the tight band of his fingers around my wrists. — Sarina Bowen

Your parents died. Your world fell apart."
I nod.
He puts his hand on my cheek. "You were left drowning"
I nod again.
"And you're struggling to breathe"
I am. It's a constant struggle to stay near the surface I have just enough air to stop me from going totally under, but not enough to thrive.
"So do it. Breathe. Just Breathe." He turns up the volume and strokes my hair. — Jessica Park

loneliness is a strange sort of thing. it creeps up on you, quiet and still, sits by your side in the dark, strokes your hair as you sleep. it wraps itself around your bones, squeezing so tight you almost can't breathe. it leaves lies in your heart, lies next to you at night, leaches the light out from every corner. its a constant companion, clasping your hand only to yank you down when you're struggling to stand up. — Tahereh Mafi

As Leo leaned down to deposit her on the bed, she tightened her grip on him, not letting him pull away. "Kiss me," she demanded.
"I shouldn't."
"Shouldn't didn't stop you earlier this evening."
"Earlier this evening you weren't incapacitated."
"We can work it off. If we take it slow, I'll be fine. Just don't expect me to swing from a chandelier. The last time I did that, the whole ceiling came down," she confided.
"I'd really rather not hear about your sexual exploits," he growled.
A jealous Leo was adorable.
"Oh, I didn't do it for sex. We were playing Tomb Raider. And I would have gotten away with the treasure, too, if the bolts would have held."
"You are something else," he muttered, brushing the hair from her face, his strokes so gentle.
"I'm yours," she muttered as her lashes fluttered shut, her battle with them lost. — Eve Langlais

But if, like a bold painter, you had first sketched in a few audacious strokes the outline of the picture you had in your own soul, you would then easily have been able to deepen and intensify the colors one after the other, until the varied throng of living figures carried your friends away and they, like you, saw themselves in the midst of the scene that had proceeded out of your own soul. — E.T.A. Hoffmann

Christians belive in a sovereign God who never says "Oops". We believe that all our days ... are divine strokes on the canvas of our lives by the Master Artist who certified his skill, his power, and his love in the Masterpiece of Calvary. If you doubt His skill in painting your life - look at the Calvary — John Piper

When the morning light came into the room it found them curled together in a nest of red and white sheets. It revealed also marks, all over the pale cool skin: handprints around the narrow waist, sliding impressions from delicate strokes, like weals, raised rosy discs where his lips had rested lightly. He cried out, when he saw her, that he had hurt her. No, she said, she was part icewoman, it was her nature, she had an icewoman's skin that responded to every touch by blossoming red. Sasan still stared, and repeated, I have hurt you. No, no, said Fiammarosa, they are the marks of pleasure, pure pleasure. I shall cover them up, for only we ourselves should see our happiness.
But inside her a little melted pool of water slopped and swayed where she had been solid and shining. — A.S. Byatt

There's a hurried intensity in the strokes
you can see where he scratched into the wet paint with the end of the brush. It's as if he knew there wasn't much time left. And yet, there's a serenity in his face, a sense of something that's survived its own ruin. — Nicole Krauss

To play this game (football) you must have fire in you, and there is nothing that strokes fire like hate. — Vince Lombardi

There are certain things - How to say this? OK. Let me give you an example. Can I give you an example? There's a self-portrait by Rembrandt. It's at Kenwood House, very close to where we live. It's one of my favorite paintings. I go to see it quite a lot. I start off on a walk on the Heath, and then I find myself there. It's one of the last self-portraits he did. He painted it sometime between 1665 and when he died four years later, bankrupt and alone. Whole stretches of the canvas are bare. There's a hurried intensity in the strokes - you can see where he scratched into the wet paint with the end of the brush. It's as if he knew there wasn't much time left. And yet, there's a serenity in his face, a sense of something that's survived its own ruin.
Fran couldn't give two shits about that painting. — Nicole Krauss

I like to watch his hands as he works, making a blank page bloom with strokes of ink, adding touches of color to our previously black and yellowish book. His face takes on a special look when he concentrates. His usual easy expression is replaced by something more intense and removed that suggests an entire world locked away inside him. I've seen flashes of this before: in the arena, or when he speaks to a crowd, or that time he shoved the Peacekeepers' guns away from me in District 11. I don't know quite what to make of it. I also become a little fixated on his eyelashes, which ordinarily you don't notice much because they're so blond. But up close, in the sunlight slanting in from the window, they're a light golden color and so long I don't see how they keep from getting all tangled up when he blinks. — Suzanne Collins

How much of your life can you account for? My life is a collage of unaccounted for brush strokes; I am all random. — John Guare

All life is death. You don't fool yourself about this anymore. You slash at the perfect canvas with strokes of paint and replace the perfect picture of your imagination with the reality of what you are capable of. From death, and sorrow, and compromise, you create. This is what it means, you finally realize, to be alive. ("The Chambered Fruit") — M. Rickert

Burns immediately left the class, and going into the small inner room where the books were kept, returned in half a minute, carrying in her hand a bundle of twigs tied together at one end. This ominous tool she presented to Miss Scatcherd with a respectful curtesy; then she quietly, and without being told, unloosed her pinafore, and the teacher instantly and sharply inflicted on her neck a dozen strokes with the bunch of twigs. Not a tear rose to Burns' eye; and, while I paused from my sewing, because my fingers quivered at this spectacle with a sentiment of unavailing and impotent anger, not a feature of her pensive face altered its ordinary expression. "Hardened girl!" exclaimed Miss Scatcherd; "nothing can correct you of your slatternly habits: carry the rod away." Burns obeyed: I looked at her narrowly as she emerged from the book-closet; she was just putting back her handkerchief into her pocket, and the trace of a tear glistened on her thin cheek. — Charlotte Bronte

I like the theatre because you paint with broad strokes. To me the theatre is stretching its definition really far. — Ajay Naidu

In terms of the pilot, you have to introduce a lot of characters in a very short period of time, and you have to paint with slightly broad brush strokes because you just need to give an audience an idea of who these people might be. — Jack Davenport

I like the idea of seeing a film that has the artist's hand in there,a film where you can see his strokes, you can see his working patterns. It's like going to a museum and seeing a Renoir drawing. You want to see their work and you want to see how they put it together. For me to see that in animation is really fresh, it's really exciting, it's really original. — Bill Plympton

TESLA'S CAT
[Nikola Tesla's favorite childhood companion] was the family's black cat, Macak. Macak followed young Nikola everywhere, and they spent many happy hours rolling on the grass.

It was Macak the cat who introduced Tesla to electricity on a dry winter evening. "As I stroked Macak's back," he recalled, "I saw a miracle that made me speechless with amazement. Macak's back was a sheet of light and my hand produced a shower of sparks loud enough to be heard all over the house." Curious, he asked his father what caused the sparks. Puzzled at first, [his father] finally answered, "Well, this is nothing but electricity, the same thing you see through the trees in a storm." His father's answer, equating the sparks with lightning, fascinated the young boy. As Tesla continued to stroke Macak, he began to wonder, "Is nature a gigantic cat? If so, who strokes its back? It can only be God," he concluded. — W. Bernard Carlson

Will you call me before Christmas?' she asks.
Maybe.' I pull on my vest, wondering why I even came here in the first place.
You've still got my number, don't you?' She reaches for a pad and begins to write it down.
Yeah, Blair. I've got your number. I'll get in touch.'
I button up my jeans and turn to leave.
Clay?'
Yeah, Blair.'
If I don't see you before Christmas,' she stops. 'Have a good one.'
I look at her a moment. 'Hey, you too.'
She picks up the stuffed black cat and strokes its head.
I step out the door and start to close it.
Clay?' she whispers loudly.
I stop but don't turn around.'Yeah?'
Nothing. — Bret Easton Ellis

I came to California to study oceanography." "That sounds like a perfectly good reason," she said. "Well" - he flicked his pen in short strokes around the hedgehog's face - "as it turns out, I don't actually like the ocean." Georgie laughed. Neal's eyes were laughing with her. "I'd never seen it before I got here," he said, glancing quickly up at her. "I thought it seemed cool." "It's not cool?" "It's really wet," he said. "And also outside." Georgie kept laughing. Neal kept inking. "Sunburn ... ," he said, "seasick ... " "So now what are you studying?" "I am definitely still studying oceanography," he said, nodding at his drawing. "I am definitely here on an oceanography scholarship, still studying oceanography." "But that's terrible. You can't study oceanography if you don't like the ocean." "I may as well." He almost smiled again. "I don't like anything else either. — Rainbow Rowell

My whole premise has been, right from the beginning, that it would take me a lifetime to learn to explain myself as an artist. As you grow older, you learn what to do and what to leave out. You kind of simplify your work and get the same thing done with fewer strokes. It's pretty interesting to me. — Tony Bennett

You haven't beaten me. You have sacrificed sure footing for a killing stroke. — Henri

I would ask my teacher a question," Yehonala said.
"Ask," Lady Miao replied. She was brushing fine quick strokes upon a large sheet of paper spread upon a square table which the eunuch had brought to her side.
"When may I paint a picture of my own?" Yehonala asked. Her teacher held her hand poised for an instant and cast a sidelong look from her narrowed eyes. "When I can no longer command you. — Pearl S. Buck

When - notice that I do not say if, being granted almost as much stubbornness as you, by Gird's grace - when you find that you can swear your honor to Gird's fellowship, it will be my pleasure to give and receive your strokes. Is that satisfactory, or have you more conditions for a Marshal-General of Gird, and Captain-Temporal of the High Lord? Paks — Elizabeth Moon

I used to be a Catholic, and when I first started police work, I worried about that. I saw a lot of people dead or dying for no apparent reason . . . not people I killed, just people. Little kids who'd drowned, people dying in auto accidents and with heart attacks and strokes. I saw a lineman burn to death, up on a pole, little bits and pieces, and nobody could help . . . . I watched them go, screaming and crying and sometimes just lying there with their tongues stuck out, heaving, with all the screaming and hollering from friends and relatives . . . and I never saw anyone looking beyond. I think, Michael, I think they just blink out. That's all. I think they go where the words on a computer screen go, when you turn it off. One minute they exist, maybe they're even profound, maybe the result of a great deal of work. The next . . . . Whiff. Gone. — John Sandford

As a writer, you paint strokes and leave suggestions so readers can create their own pictures. That allows you to know someone by a small action and it saves countless pages of explanation. — Mary Higgins Clark

I'd appreciate it if in the future when you come up with a plan that makes a hardened criminal pause, you could at least give me the gist of it ahead of time. In broad strokes. — Ilona Andrews

If you know the differences between an oak and a poplar, a spruce and a pine, down to the needles ... you are able to paint that tree with more conviction, even if done with a few broad strokes. — T. Allen Lawson

God Is The Artist Of Your Landscape

Will things always work out in the way you hope and want? Of course not! You are not the illustrator of your life painting. God has all the hues and brush strokes worked out. The painting He is creating, thanks to the struggle He has given you, is a masterpiece. — Cheryl Zelenka

Novels are like paintings, specifically watercolors. Every stroke you put down you have to go with. Of course you can rewrite, but the original strokes are still there in the texture of the thing. — Joan Didion

You don't need to play every ball but every ball needs your judgement. — Amit Ray

Tucker strokes my hair. There's something so tender about the gesture. It might as well have been him whispering I love you. — Cynthia Hand

Columbus went around the world in 1492. That isn't a lot of strokes when you consider the course. — Lee Trevino

What am I to call it? Diffidence? The fear of ridicule? Inverted vanity? What matters names, if it has brought me to this? I could never bear to be bustling about nothing; I was ashamed of this toy kingdom from the first; I could not tolerate that people should fancy I believed in a thing so patently absurd! I would do nothing that cannot be done smiling. I have a sense of humour, forsooth! I must know better than my Maker. And it was the same thing in my marriage," he added more hoarsely. "I did not believe this girl could care for me; I must not intrude; I must preserve the foppery of my indifference. What an impotent picture!"
"Ay, we have the same blood," moralised Gotthold. "You are drawing, with fine strokes, the character of the born sceptic."
"Sceptic? - coward!" cried Otto. "Coward is the word. A springless, putty-hearted, cowering coward! — Robert Louis Stevenson

A massive stroke may kill you instantly, while a series of mini-strokes may disable and kill you over several years. — Michael Greger

Wiping my sleeve over my eyes, I clear the tears and smile at her. "Yea. I'm great." Leaning over the bed, I lay a gentle kiss over her mouth. It's not meant as a sexual kiss, rather a reverent kiss to show her how much I love her. But, if that didn't convey my message, I move to her ear and whisper. "I love you so much. Thank you for this baby." I bury by head in her neck while still holding her hand tightly. Her free hand strokes my head and tangles in my hair. — Rein Scott

Money is representative, and follows the nature and fortunes of the owner...The farmer is covetous of his dollar, and with reason. It is no waif to him. He knows how many strokes of labor it represents. His bones ache with the days' work that earned it. He knows how much land it represents - how much rain, frost and sunshine. He knows that, in the dollar, he gives you so much discretion and patience, so much hoeing and threshing. Try to lift his dollar; you must lift all that weight. In the city, where money follows the skit of a pen or a lucky rise in exchange, it comes to be looked on as light. — Ralph Waldo Emerson

He kissed her like he owned her, and in that moment, he did. The kiss was rough and punishing, his tongue forcing her lips open and sweeping into her mouth with greedy precision. Electricity raced up Bailey's spine, red-hot and powerful, as powerful as the deep strokes of Sean's tongue and his tight grip on her waist.
"You want me," he muttered into her lips... — Elle Kennedy

Jane," he rasped as his strokes grew frenzied. "It's always ... been you. Only you."
"Only you," she echoed.
She'd been fooling herself about Edwin. There had only ever been one man in her heart. And as he drove himself deep inside her, he sent her vaulting into the sun.
When he followed her into the bliss, she clutched him close to her chest and prayed that he would let her inside his heart as deeply as she'd let him into hers. That she wasn't making a mistake by taking up with him again.
Because it was too late to go back now. This time, he had her for better or worse. — Sabrina Jeffries

TV deals in very broad strokes. Like, 'Oh, that's my dumb friend', or, 'That's my funny friend.' A true best friend, a sidekick, has to be a little deeper then that. You have to feel like there's nothing either character won't do. That someone really, really has their back. — Willie Garson

It's like chopping down a huge tree of immense girth. You won't accomplish it with one swing of your axe. If you keep chopping away at it, though, and do not let up, eventually, whether it wants to or not, it will suddenly topple down. When that time comes, you could round up everyone you could find and pay them to hold the tree up, but they wouldn't be able to do it. It would still come crashing to the ground ... . But if the woodcutter stopped after one or two strokes of his axe to ask the third son of Mr. Chang, "Why doesn't this tree fall?" And after three or four more strokes stopped again to ask the fourth son of Mr. Li, "Why doesn't this tree fall?" he would never succeed in felling the tree. It is no different for someone who is practicing the Way. - ZEN MASTER HAKUIN — Robert Greene

Folks who are getting their strokes in the South are not as unhappy with Howard Dean. You don't see anybody starting any movement to get him out of office. — Gwen Ifill

An abundance of peer-reviewed science is showing that a whole foods, plant-based diet prevents most heart attacks, strokes, and even many kinds of cancer. It gets you to your ideal weight easily and sustainably, reverses Type 2 diabetes, and even fixes erectile dysfunction (because it greatly improves circulation!). — Kathy Freston

Tennis players we're always playing in center courts that feel like arenas. And when we get on the court and the crowd cheers your name or salutes you - it's like you're a gladiator in the arena. And everyone is cheering - and you're fighting, you're screaming, during your strokes - it feels like you're an animal, fighting for your life. — Novak Djokovic

Sleepy head," he whispers, slipping an arm around my waist, "you snore."
"Do not," I say in voice croaky from sleep.
He nibbles my earlobe. "It's cute."
"Middle-aged, overweight men snore. That's not cute."
He strokes my hip. "Everything you do's cute."
I love it when he talks like this. It means he has a softer, sweeter side. I hate it for the exact same reason. — Ashley Lynn Willis

Spend some memorable moments in London, under the eve of exciting surroundings. Let your fantasies come true during the sessions of Oriental massage London. Your companion during massage session will give you extra high shots and strokes for the fulfillment of your sultry dreams. — Alex Hayden

Christian, beware how thou thinkest lightly of sin. Take heed lest thou fall by little and little. Sin, a little thing? Is it not a poison? Who knows its deadliness? Sin, a little thing? Do not the little foxes spoil the grapes? Doth not the tiny coral insect build a rock which wrecks a navy? Do not little strokes fell lofty oaks? Will not continual droppings wear away stones? Sin, a little thing? It girded the Redeemer's head with thorns, and pierced His heart! It made Him suffer anguish, bitterness, and woe. Could you weigh the least sin in the scales of eternity, you would fly from it as from a serpent, and abhor the least appearance of evil. Look upon all sin as that which crucified the Saviour, and you will see it to be exceeding sinful. — Charles Haddon Spurgeon

My brush-strokes start in nothing and they end in nothing, and in-between you find the image. — Karel Appel

You may disagree. Personal history and national history do not always overlap, a point often overlooked in some of the broad strokes applied to the SG50 celebrations. But do consider your choices. In the age of Buzzfeed, we love lists. Make your own. No two lists will be the same, but collectively, they all say the same thing. They are all in search of a soul. — Neil Humphreys

He shifts enough to bring us closer, and the rock gently rolls. His tender gaze strokes my face. "You are my rock." He squeezes my hand the way I squeezed his on the soccer field at Newtown High. — Anyta Sunday

As you know, I was one of the original grunters. But Jimmy Connors used to grunt way before I was born. I never knew I was grunting, it was just part of my strokes. — Monica Seles

If you overdo it, there are consequences.
What kind of consequences?
Strokes, brain hemorrhages, aneurysms ...
How do you know when you have overdone it?
When you have a stroke, brain hemorrhage or an aneurysm. — Ben Aaronovitch

When the Strokes first started playing gigs, instead of getting into a costume for the shows, we talked about how we should dress every day, in real life, like we're playing onstage. I don't really care about clothes, but it's about wearing something that gives you social confidence. Or maybe helps you pick up chicks. — Julian Casablancas

Sometimes stereotyping happens not because of any nefarious reasons but rather because people don't know who you are or where you come from, so they go for the broad strokes about you, your culture, your faith, all that. — Faran Tahir

If you can say a thing with one stroke, unanswerably you have style; if not, you are at best a marchande de plaisir; a decorative litt — George Bernard Shaw

My senses flood with feeling, so intense, and then I'm cradled in warmth. The heat stems from my hand and spreads through my body. I look down and lace my fingers through his.
He strokes my jawline, lifting my face to meet his emerald eyes-clear and vibrant-like time never passed between us. "You're home," he says, his voice stirring all my love.
"You're my home. — Trisha Wolfe

Both of us played basketball, and I played tennis and my knees are done. Now if you ask us head-to-head who wins at golf, I'm asking for a couple of strokes. — Michael Wilbon

He says under his breath, "I'm going to fuck you hard, Rose." He strokes my head and leans me to his chest. "So hard that you're not going to be able to walk in the morning."
Why does that sound so good? — Krista Ritchie

You just stroke me, stroke me. — Billy Squier

Morpheus's gaze flashes to mine, then back to the chess piece wrapped in his magic. "Stop crying," his quirky voice scolds. "Queens don't cry. I taught you better than that."
I bite my quivering lip, and tiny Alice strokes the caterpillar's face. "But you're crying ... "
Morpheus lowers a wing and shades his cheek along with the transparent glimmer of his jeweled markings. "Well" - his shrill voice cracks slightly - "contrary to my preferences for lace and velvet, I'm not the queen. So I can cry all I like. — A.G. Howard

Dorian strokes my exposed back with the tips of his fingers, sending shockwaves up and down my spine. I gasp from the contact, resisting the urge to beg him for more. He brings his face down to my neck, letting his lips brush my earlobe. "Gabriella, I would love to bend you over this desk right now and pull your dress up past your thighs and over your ass," he murmurs, sex dripping from his soft lips.
"That sounds good to me," I breathe, turning my head a fraction. "What's stopping you?" Never in my life have I been this bold and eager with a man but Dorian has awakened the sleeping sex giant within me. If my days are numbered, I want to at least die happy.
"Oh, I would do it. But I know Aurora will come looking for me and I don't want to be disturbed when I ... ruin you." Ruin me? It sounds so threatening and violent.
I love it. — S.L. Jennings

How many words grace the pages of this book!
They are supposed to bestir memory. As if words could remember!
For words are miserable mountain climbers and miserable miners of meaning. They do not retrieve the hidden treasures from the heights or dredge them from the depths!
But there is a living commemoration that softly strokes everything worthy of remembering with its caress. And when a red-hot flame leaps forth, poignant and piercing, from such retrospective ash, and you fix your gaze upon it, as if gripped by its magic spell, then...
But how with a shaky hand and coarse writing instrument can one possibly inscribe oneself in such pure remembrance, other than to stain these white unassuming pages? — Franz Kafka

There you are, diligently swimming a straight line, minding the form of your strokes, when you look up and see, always a shock, the currents you can't even feel have pulled you off course. — Julia Glass

You know some of the people in The Strokes, yeah, their parents had success - but we didn't live like yuppies. — Julian Casablancas

Covert manipulators are quite gifted at provocation. As they learn more about you, they are investigating your weak spots and catering their comments towards what they know will hurt you the most. Knowing you're triggered by their comments gives them a sadistic sense of satisfaction that alleviates their secret sense of inferiority and strokes their delusions of grandeur, control and aptitude. Having control over your emotions also gives them the power to effectively manipulate you and convince you that you don't deserve any better. — Shahida Arabi

I looked over at Sara. "I like it," I declared, beaming at the image in front of me. The sun's bright rays filtering through the leaves made me want to squint. With the heavy strokes of the bark, I could imagine dragging my fingertips along the rough texture. "Of course you do," Sara stated, shooting me a look out of the corner of her eye. "She pained the tree in your backyard with the swing you made for her. — Rebecca Donovan

Little more black, little more blue. And we'll just put that in using little crisscross strokes or
or little X's, whatever you want to call them. Whatever. — Bob Ross

Everybody has a direct view of the person "behind" the art, so there is going to be a certain amount of awareness of who is making songs. But I like paintings where you can see the brush-strokes. — Jeffrey Lewis

I lost my new puppy," the man in the car said. "Will you come help me find him?" "Oh, hell, no," she said, glaring into the car at the almost-handsome man sitting behind the wheel. "I saw that very special episode of Diff'rent Strokes." "Then — Tiffany Reisz

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

How many strokes does it take?"

"One. Two. Three."

"Four. Five..."

"Six."

"Seven. Eight."

"Nine."

"What if Daddy. Ten. Finds out what I did. Eleven. To his innocent little girl?"

"Twelve."

"This is what you do to me. Feel it. Thirteen."

"Fourteen."

"Do What he says, Toni. Fifteen. Come."

His heated lips curved against her ear.

"Fifteen it is."

~Drake — Jennifer Turner

If you're poor old Mario Incandenza you take your competitive strokes where you can find them. — David Foster Wallace

Well, I am not interested in the kind of expression that you have when you paint a painting with brush strokes. It's all right, but it's already done and I want to do something new. — Donald Judd