The Man Behind My Smile Quotes & Sayings

Charles Augustus Milverton was a man of fifty, with a large, intellectual head, a round, plump, hairless face, a perpetual frozen smile, and two keen gray eyes, which gleamed brightly from behind broad, gold-rimmed glasses. — Arthur Conan Doyle

Yeah. She's still just observing though. She's too useless to even carry plates at the moment, so please just think of her as some Russian ornament."
Tom laughed at the owner's blunt response, and asked another question.
"Chief, how do I say something like, 'you're beautiful', in Russian?"
" ... 'Vi ocharovatelny'."
"Err ... Bee, acherabatennen."
However, hearing this, the Caucasian woman looked confused at Tom, and spoke to the owner behind the counter.
" ... What is this man saying? It is unintelligible. I question its relation to the Japanese language."
With a bitter smile, the owner turned his head towards the woman, and spoke to her.
"'Vi ocharovatelny'."
" ... Why do you suddenly speak these social compliments? Please concisely explain your reasoning."
"That's what that young man over there just tried to say to you."
"In which language, exactly?"
Listening to their conversation, — Ryohgo Narita

There is a skull in every man, and I tell you there is a skull in the lives of all men. They saw it that day, those men. They saw what sometimes grins behind the smile. — Stephen King

Tom laughed at the owner's blunt response, and asked another question.
"Chief, how do I say something like, 'you're beautiful', in Russian?"
" ... 'Vi ocharovatelny'."
"Err ... Bee, acherabatennen."
However, hearing this, the Caucasian woman looked confused at Tom, and spoke to the owner behind the counter.
" ... What is this man saying? It is unintelligible. I question its relation to the Japanese language."
With a bitter smile, the owner turned his head towards the woman, and spoke to her.
"'Vi ocharovatelny'."
" ... Why do you suddenly speak these social compliments? Please concisely explain your reasoning."
"That's what that young man over there just tried to say to you."
"In which language, exactly? — Ryohgo Narita

Are you sure you're okay, Taylor? Say something . . . normal." He gently tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, being careful to avoid the bump on her head.
Taylor stared up into Jason's amazing blue eyes. He really was the most gorgeous man she had ever seen.
With great effort, she pulled herself out of the dreamy depths of the Sexiest Eyes Alive and somehow managed a casual smile. She knew she should at least thank him for coming for her.
But then she noticed something she had somehow missed earlier. She peered more closely at Jason. "Wait a second - are you wearing makeup?"
Oh yes, there it was - a little trace of powder dusted across his face. And was that a smudge of eyeliner along his bottom lid . . . ?
This was too precious.
Taylor raised an eyebrow teasingly. "Gee, Jason, it's just a hospital - you really didn't need to get all gussied up."
And with that, Jason smiled. He turned to the doctor, finally satisfied.
"Okay. She's fine. — Julie James

It's odd to imagine, of course: you pass a car on a lonely rural highway; you sit beside a man in a diner and share views with him; you wait behind a customer checking into a motel, a friendly man with a winning smile and twinkling hazel eyes, who's happy to fill you in on his life's story and wants you to like him - odd to think this man is cruising around with a loaded pistol, making up his mind about which bank he'll soon rob.' - Richard Ford, Canada — Richard Ford

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

We are like the RCMP, we are Mountees and we always get our man to come, just not always quietly. — Owen Jones

She nodded, grabbed her purse out of the drawer and skedaddled, walking like she was on a catwalk, one foot in front of the other, her ass swaying under the skirt of her expensive, tailored suit.
Bitch. I thought again, watching her go.
"No comparison," Luke said after the door closed behind Dawn and I turned to him.
"Excuse me?"
"Dawn's a man eater. You're not. No comparison," Luke answered and I didn't know how to take that.
"Is that good?"
The half-smile came back.
"Most men prefer to do the eating."
Holy fucking cow. — Kristen Ashley

I want to sleep for eternity with a broad smile on my face. I want those who remain behind to say this man has done his duty. — Nelson Mandela

I'm leaving!" she said, with, in her opinion, great drama and resolve.
But he just answered her with a sly half smile, and said, "I'm following."
And the bloody man remained two strides behind her the entire way home. — Julia Quinn

Riley paused, turning back to face Jack. "Just so you know, we are gonna need some definite PDAs tonight.
Think you can handle that?" There was irritation in Riley's voice, a subtle change, a certain stress. Jack imagined it was a manifestation of fear, and it made him feel better to think that. In answer Jack moved carefully past Riley, sliding a hand over the younger man's black silk shirt, his fingers brushing Riley's left nipple. He heard a hiss of indrawn breath as his hard thigh touched Riley briefly.
"I can handle anything you need, Het-boy," he said, his voice low and growled. "Just follow my cues."
Riley followed him to the top of the stairs, and Jack held out his hand. "Husband?" he smirked.
Riley took his hand, and they started down the sweeping staircase. "Fuck you, asshole," Riley forced out behind a covering smile.
"Not if I fuck you first," Jack said, fast and clear, smirking again as Riley stumbled on the next step. — R.J. Scott

opened the door with a smile. The man bowed slightly, then stepped quickly over the threshold and grabbed the door from her hand to close it firmly behind him. "Here," she said angrily. "What's - " The man pushed her disdainfully aside with the walking stick — Felicia Andrews

He leaned back in his seat throwing his hands behind his head; sort of an open offer for the entire bar to get a good look at what he was working with and it was quite impressive. God why did he have to have tattoos? Or the killer smile he was so blatantly using as foreplay. And since when did smiling at a girl count as foreplay? I wasn't sure but I guess Carter was the one living man capable of this. — Maven West

The universe is one being. Everything and everyone is interconnected through an invisible web of stories. Whether we are aware of it or not, we are all in a silent conversation. Do no harm. Practise compassion. And do not gossip behind anyone's back - not even seemingly innocent remark! The words that come out of our mouth do not vanish but are perpetually stored in infinite space, and they will come back to us in due time. One man's pain will hurt us all. One man's joy will make everyone smile. — Elif Shafak

My mom told me that I should trust the man who could see the sorrow behind my smile, the love behind my anger, and the reasons behind my silence. — Jill Shalvis

She was so incredibly beautiful - she seemed to be wearing the sunlight, rearranging it around her from time to time, with a movement of one hand, with a movement of her head, and with her smile - that, when she paid the man and started out of the store, I started out behind her. — James Baldwin

Cruelty is not something you can just sugar coat with a smile, with laughter, with a hug or with an act of kindness. It is a diabolical behaviour that will keep popping up behind that smile, behind that laughter, behind that hug and behind that act of kindness. 'A man who is kind benefits himself, but a cruel man hurts himself.' (Proverbs 11:17) — Euginia Herlihy

And Bethod means to make war on this? He must be mad."
"Bethod, for all his waste and pride, understands the Union. They are jealous of one another, all those people. It may be a union in name, but they fight each other tooth and nail. The lowly squabble over trifles. The great wage secret wars for power and wealth, and they call it government. Wars of words, and tricks, and guile, but no less bloody for that. The casualties are many. Behind those walls they shout and argue and endlessly bite one another's backs. Old squabbles are never settled, but thrive, and put down roots, and the roots grow deeper with the passing years. It has always been so. They are not like you, Logen. A man here can smile, and fawn, and call you friend, give you gifts with one hand and stab you with the other. You will find this a strange place. — Joe Abercrombie

What a child does not know and does not want to know of race and colour and class, he learns soon enough as he grows to see each man flipped inexorably into some predestined groove like a penny or a sovereign in a banker's rack. Kibii, the Nandi boy, was my good friend. Arab Ruta (the same boy grown to manhood), who sits before me, is my good friend, but the handclasp will be shorter, the smile will not be so eager on his lips, and though the path is for a while the same, he will walk behind me now, when once, in the simplicity of our nonage, we walked together. — Beryl Markham

They brought along a young man named Andy who wants very much to see you. She steps aside to let him through.
I tuck my hair back behind my ears.
Meet his shining gaze and break into a smile.
He is so tall. — Laura Wiess