Throw Me On The Bed Quotes & Sayings

My dad picked me up and rocked me in the chair. I felt small and weak and I wanted to hold him back but I couldn't because there wasn't any strength in my arms, and I wanted to ask him if he had held me like this when I was a boy because I didn't remember and why didn't I remember. I started to think that maybe I was still dreaming, but my mother was changing the sheets on my bed so I knew that everything was real. Except me. I think I was mumbling. My father held me tighter and whispered something, but not even his arms or his whispers could keep me from trembling. My mom dried my sweaty body with a towel and she and my dad changed me into a clean T-shirt and clean underwear. And then I said the strangest thing, "Don't throw my T-shirt away. Dad gave it to me." I knew I was crying, but I didn't know why because I wasn't the kind of guy who cried, and I thought that maybe it was someone else who was crying. — Benjamin Alire Saenz

That tried and true aphorism:
Each day is precious. Each day is a gift. If we don't open the wrapping carefully, we might break it and have to return it to the store. And then they're going to ask for a receipt and throw a total shit fit if we've left it at home, and we'll have to call the manager over and give him a good talking-to, and of course eventually he'll relent and tell the clerk to give us full credit, but by then we'll be so upset that we've wasted an hour of our time that we'll end up with a migraine and having to spend the rest of the day in bed, completely defeating the whole idea that each day is supposed to be precious and so forth. — Eric Garcia

Imagine if for years your habit is to use the phone when you're having a massage on the bed, even one minute before going out to train? For 25 days I accepted this, because my first priority was to work on the field. However, I've said that from now if someone comes inside with a mobile phone, even in their bag, I'll throw it in the North Sea. They're banned. — Paolo Di Canio

The nights now are full of wind and destruction; the trees plunge and bend and their leaves fly helter skelter until the lawn is plastered with them and they lie packed in gutters and choke rain pipes and scatter damp paths. Also the sea tosses itself and breaks itself, and should any sleeper fancying that he might find on the beach an answer to his doubts, a sharer of his solitude, throw off his bedclothes and go down by himself to walk on the sand, no image with semblance of serving and divine promptitude comes readily to hand bringing the night to order and making the world reflect the compass of the soul. The hand dwindles in his hand; the voice bellows in his ear. Almost it would appear that it is useless in such confusion to ask the night those questions as to what, and why, and wherefore, which tempt the sleeper from his bed to seek an answer. — Virginia Woolf

I wouldn't throw her outta bed for eating crackers. She was all class. — James McBride

Okay. Right. Horror meets romance meets erotica meets fantasy meets hip hop. Throw in some leather and some Miami Ink shit, stir with a baseball bat and a tire iron, sprinkle on some baby powder, and serve over a hot bed of Holy-Mary-mother-of-God-this-has-to-work-or-I'm-going-to-be-a-lawyer-for-the-rest-of-my-natural-life.
No problem."
(J.R. Ward on the elements of writing the Black Dagger Brotherhood) — J.R. Ward

I disentangled myself and flopped backward on the bed. "You sure about this, man?"
"Positive." David climbed right on top, straddling me. He knew I'd never throw him off, even if I'd threatened to do so a hundred times in the past. Maybe he knew how much I liked it. — Santino Hassell

Freedom was what we had. Nobody told us when to go to bed. Nobody told us to do our homework. Nobody told us we couldn't drink two six-packs of Budweiser and then throw up in the Maytag. So why did we feel so trapped? Why did I feel like I had no options in my life when it seemed that options were the only thing I DID have? — Augusten Burroughs

When she turned away, he caught her hand. He waited until she looked back at him. "I need my weapons. Just in case."
"You won't shoot me. Or stab me. Or throw one of those thingies at me."
"No."
She snorted. "How would you know? You don't know what you're doing half the time."
"Still."
She sighed and began stacking weapons on the bed beside the pillow. "Fine. But I'll be royally pissed if you try to kill me again. It's getting old. — Christine Feehan

I missed her so much I wanted to die: a hard, physical longing, like a craving for air underwater. Lying awake, I tried to recall all my best memories of her - to freeze her in my mind so I wouldn't forget her - but instead of birthdays and happy times I kept remembering things like how a few days before she was killed she'd stopped me halfway out the door to pick a thread off my school jacket. For some reason, it was one of the clearest memories I had of her: her knitted eyebrows, the precise gesture of her reaching out to me, everything. Several times too - drifting uneasily between dreaming and sleep - I sat up suddenly in bed at the sound of her voice speaking clearly in my head, remarks she might conceivably have made at some point but that I didn't actually remember, things like Throw me an apple, would you? and I wonder if this buttons up the front or the back? and This sofa is in a terrible state of disreputableness. — Donna Tartt

What's supposed to happen, at the end of a quest? Cheers and accolades, Josh knew; people throw their hats in the air, and you glow with pride as they lift you to their shoulders. What else? Medals, speeches and a great feast, and then a ballad about your exploits, and finally, as the fireworks go off overhead, a soft, clean, fresh bed. — Isabel Hoving

I'm usually woken up by the birds and by my schnauzer, Rafa - for me that's the best start to the day. I jump out of bed, throw on some clothes, and race to the polo ground. — Facundo Pieres

Emma wanted a real man's hands on her body. Big and rough hands belonging to a strong, tough man who would grab her and throw her onto a bed where he'd spread her thighs wide, yank her head back by the hair, and kiss her breathless while loving her until she was senseless. — Cat Johnson

Placing his snout on the edge of my bed,
Boomer pricks up his ears and widens his smiling eyes
when I turn my head towards him.
I smile at Boomer.
"I guess you want to go for a walk?"
Boomer bobs his head in agreement
and runs around in a circle.

"Okay," I say.
I turn over,
throw off the blankets,
raise my upper body
and swing my legs around and over
the edge of the bed.
I sit on the edge of the bed
with my feet touching the floor
and my hands at my sides,
all holding me up as my upper body
leans over the edge.
I am still half asleep.

I look around to my right for Boomer,
but he is no where to be found.
Boomer went for his last walk
some thirty years ago. — Jeffrey A. White

I don't need to lie down," she groused as she stared at the ceiling over their bed.
When Wrath didn't reply, she turned her head on the pillow and shot a glare in his direction.
He was sitting at the foot of the mattress, shoulders set, jaw locked, huge body still as stone.
"I'm fine," she tacked on.
"Uh-huh."
"This is going to be a really long couple of months if we worry about every little twinge."
"You just tried to throw up your liver."
"I did not."
"So you were working on your pancreas?"
She crossed her arms over her chest.
"I can feel you glaring at me," Wrath said.
"Well, I am. This is ridiculous. — J.R. Ward

and all he wanted was a half hour with his mother before bed. And all he had in the world was the ability to throw a tantrum. We — Emily Fridlund

Darius glided toward Tempest in his silent, intimidating way. "You are going to bed now, honey. I will not listen to any arguments." Tempest was already lying down. "Does anyone else besides me ever get the urge to throw things at you?" She sounded drowsy, not combative. Darius hunkered down beside her so he was at eye level with her. "I do not think so. If they do, they do not have the audacity to tell me." "Well, I think throwing something at you is the only way to go," Tempest told him. Her eyes were already closing, and her voice was weary and sad despite her heavy words. Darius stroked the wealth of red-gold hair away from her face, his fingers soothing her scalp. "Do you? Maybe tomorrow might be a better time to try it." "I have a very good aim," she warned him. "It would be easier on you if you just quit giving me orders." "That would ruin my reputation," he objected. A smile curved the corners of her mouth, emphasizing the thin red cut at the side of her lip. — Christine Feehan

The sun flooded Livvie's apartment. I lay in her bed, smothered in throw pillows of various colors and shapes (seriously ladies, what the fuck with all the pillows?). I felt especially dirty jerking off in her frilly bed. I was sure to wipe up my come with a fuzzy pink pillow. I hoped it would prompt Livvie to throw the damn thing away. — C.J. Roberts

There are so many ways to decorate small spaces. One of my favorite things is throw pillows. They can add so much color to your room. You can have the same bedding for years and just switch out the throw pillows, and it looks like you have a completely new bed. — Bethany Mota

I'll cab it home."
"Naw. I'll hang until you're through. Then I'll drag you back to your apartment. Watch you throw up for an hour. Push you into bed. Before I leave I'll get the coffee machine set up. Aspirin will be right next to the sugar bowl."
"I don't have a sugar bowl."
"So it'll be next to the bag."
Butch smiled. "You'd have made a great wife, Jose."
"That's what mine tells me. — J.R. Ward

I wouldn't throw that cat out of bed.
When did you get a cat? — Lesley Kagen

Let's say a person is down in the dumps, or maybe just lazy, and they stop doing the dishes. Soon the dishes are piled sky-high and it seems impossible to even clean a fork. So the person starts eating with dirty forks out of dirty dishes and this makes the person feel like a homeless person. So they stop bathing. Which makes it hard to leave the house. The person begins to throw trash anywhere and pee in cups because they're closer to the bed. We've all been this person, so there is no place for judgment, but the solution is simple:Fewer dishes. — Miranda July

Lichfield, England. Swallows certainly sleep all winter. A number of them conglobulate together, by flying round and round, and then all in a heap throw themselves under water, and lye in the bed of a river. — Samuel Johnson

Perhaps I will die too, she told herself, and the thought did not seem so terrible to her. If she flung herself from the window, she could put an end to her suffering, and in the years to come the singers would write songs of her grief. Her body would lie on the stones below, broken and innocent, shaming all those who had betrayed her. Sansa went so far as to cross the bedchamber and throw open the shutters ... but then her courage left her, and she ran back to her bed, sobbing. — George R R Martin

Anyway, it's best not to think about them, as if you do it makes the discussions with the other lawyers, all their advice and all that they do manage to achieve, seem so unpleasant and useless, I had that experience myself, just wanted to throw everything away and lay at home in bed and hear nothing more about it. But that, of course, would be the stupidest thing you could do, and you wouldn't be left in peace in bed for very long either. — Franz Kafka

You have no idea how hard it is for me not to grab you and throw you down on my bed right now. It's taking every ounce of self -restraint I have to be this close to you and not be inside of you. — Michelle Lynn

Rubens! All bosom and bum, big cumulus clouds of pink flesh, eh? You can feel the heart beating like a kettledrum in a ton of that stuff. Every woman a bed; throw yourself on them, sink from sight. — Ray Bradbury

He glared accusingly at her while he made short work of his clothes. "You didn't wake me up."
She rolled her eyes as she speared a piece of sausage with her fork. "I did wake you up. Three times in fact. Each time you threw something at me and went back to sleep."
Jason gaped at her. "And you gave up? You know our routine, woman. You have to
keep at it until I'm forced to get off the bed to find something to throw at you. — R.L. Mathewson

Eating is self punishment; punish the food instead. Strangle a loaf of Italian bread. Throw darts at a cheesecake. Chain a lamb chop to the bed. Beat up a cookie. — Denise Dietz

Do you want a ride home?"
"I rode my bike, and I don't really want to keep it here at the school."
"I have a truck, it won't be a problem to throw it into the bed."
"Well then, I suppose I don't really have an excuse to say no, do I?"
"I was going to hold your duffel hostage until you said yes anyway."
"Now what has my duffel bag ever done to you? — August Westman

My parents would have to put the fire hose on me to get me out of bed, to go to school in the morning. They would use a cattle prod and just shock me, or throw boiling water on me, or fire a gun next to my head, to get me out of bed. — Jackson Rathbone

I'm glad you could make it," she quipped, her voice not quite as steady as she wished.
"When you issue an invitation to your bedroom, it's common practice to make sure the door is unlocked," he returned without a pause. He looked beyond her and said, "It's also common to wait until your partner's here before you start getting the sheets hot."
[ ... ]
"Sorry," she quipped lightly, "I'm not familiar with the etiquette required of a mistress. Next time I'll make sure that you're in the bed before I throw hot coals at it. — Patricia Briggs

Some moment happens in your life that you say yes right up to the roots of your hair, that makes it worth having been born just to have happen. laughing with somebody till the tears run down your cheeks. waking up to the first snow. being in bed with somebody you love ... whether you thank god for such a moment or thank your lucky stars, it is a moment that is trying to open up your whole life. If you turn your back on such a moment and hurry along to business as usual, it may lose you the ball game. if you throw your arms around such a moment and hug it like crazy, it may save your soul. — Frederick Buechner

All the rest of the nonsense a story requires is just a long seduction of the ending. You throw out murders and reversals and heroes and detectives and spies, juggle love affairs and near escapes and standoffs with marvellous guns, kidnappings and sorcery and comic relief and gravediggers and princesses and albino dragons, and it's all just to lure an ending into your bed. — Catherynne M Valente

There were friends all over London who would welcome his eagerly to their homes, who would throw open their guest rooms and their fridges, eager to condole and to help. The price of all of those comfortable beds and home-cooked meals, however, would be to sit at kitchen tables, once the clean-pajamaed children were in bed, and relive the filthy final battle with Charlotte, submitting to the outraged sympathy and pity of his friends' girlfriends and wives. To this he preferred grim solitude, a Pot Noodle and a sleeping bag. — Robert Galbraith

Just sleep here." At my sharp look he laughs. "I'll take the floor, and I'll get you to your job on time. I promise."

"You're full of promises." But the thought of sleeping in a soft bed with warm blankets is appealing. And I understand Jannik now. I'm his symbol of hope, his reason to believe that one day he too can throw off the shackles of his family. — Cat Hellisen

His father asked Ethan in a raspy voice, "You spend time with your son?" "Much as I can," he'd answered, but his father had caught the lie in his eyes. "It'll be your loss, Ethan. Day'll come, when he's grown and it's too late, that you'd give a kingdom to go back and spend a single hour with your son as a boy. To hold him. Read a book to him. Throw a ball with a person in whose eyes you can do no wrong. He doesn't see your failings yet. He looks at you with pure love and it won't last, so you revel in it while it's here." Ethan thinks often of that conversation, mostly when he's lying awake in bed at night and everyone else is asleep, and his life screaming past at the speed of light - the weight of bills and the future and his prior failings and all these moments he's missing - all the lost joy - perched like a boulder on his chest. — Blake Crouch

The first time he snarled, I had a bit of a panic attack."
"She screamed and threw him at me."
Dez scowled at Mace. "I did not throw my son at you. I just handed him over and walked quickly from the room so I could scream into a pillow in our bedroom."
"I found her under the bed with the dogs. — Shelly Laurenston

Sweet girl, maybe close the world off and look at him for an hour
or two.
This is your fairy.
It ain't perfect and it ain't honey sweet with roses on the bed.
It's real and raw and ugly at times. But this is your love.
Don't throw it away searching for someone else's love. Don't be greedy. Instead, shelter it. Protect it. Capture every second of easy, pull through every storm of hardship. And when you can, look at him, lying next to you, trusting you not to harm him. Trusting you not to go.
Be someone's someone for someone.
Be that someone for him. — Charlotte Eriksson

Never coming back here, she thought.
With a groan, she levered herself into a sitting position and discovered a painful crick in her neck. Never ever. She launched herself off the bed and limped over to the door and put here eye to the viewer, was treated to a fish-eye view of a small, dapper, well-dressed man holding a bunch of white roses.
Okay. Man with flowers. Carey looked around the room. The windows opened on short tethers so guests couldn't throw furniture or each other out into the street, and she was too high to jump anyway. She looked around the room again, looking for possible weapons. There was a rickety-looking chair by the desk in the corner, but it would probably fall to bits even before she hit anyone with it. She looked through the viewer. The little man knocked again. Not urgently, not in an official we-have-come-to-take-you-to-the-gulag kind of way, but in the manner of a gentleman visiting his lady friend with a nice bunch of roses. — Dave Hutchinson

Clear Your Mind Clearing your mind is the same as clearing your environment. Seeing a lot of stuff cluttered on the floor or disorganized in your cabinets can make you crazy. Your mind becomes confused with a lot of things that you see and this might cause you headaches. Try to organize your things in boxes, clean your room, fix your bed, sweep your floor, open your curtains to let the sunshine in and arrange things according to size or color. If you work on your desk, this is the best time to organize documents into folders, arrange them properly in drawers and throw out those that are not needed anymore. Making a habit of cleaning your environment can clear your mind and can make your life easier. — Kerry Elise

As long as I can throw you on the bed like a caveman and pummel you to orgasm with my love-club, I'm good. — Nalini Singh

I've come to realize that making it your life's work to be different than your parents is not only hard to do, it's a dumb idea. Not everything we found fault with was necessarily wrong; we were right, for example, to resent, as kids, being told when to go to bed. We'd be equally wrong, as parents, to let our kids stay up all night. To throw out all the tools of parenting just because our parents used them would be like making yourself speak English without using ten letters of the alphabet; it's hard to do. — Paul Reiser

I am 13 years old, I am 13 stone, I have no money, no friends, and boys throw gravel at me. It's my birthday, and I went to bed at 7.15pm. — Caitlin Moran

He's laughing me into a stupor, she thought. I could heckle, I suppose, I could throw a bread roll at him, but he's eaten them all. She glanced at the other diners, all of them going into their act, and thought is this what it all boils down to? Romantic love, is this all it is, a talent show? Eat a meal, go to bed, fall in love with me and I promise you years and years of top notch material like this? — David Nicholls

You'll have to pardon me," the magus said. "But with your country at war I can't see how any of it really matters."
Standing up, Eugenides pulled the papers from the magus's hands. "It matters, because I can't do anything, anymore, for this country, and it matters," he yelled as he threw the papers back to his desk, "because I only have one hand and it isn't even the right one!" Turning, he picked an inkpot off the desk and threw it to shatter on the door of his wardrobe, spraying black ink across the pale wood and onto the wall. Black drops like rain stained the sheets of his bed.
...
Eddis sighed. "Will you sit down and stop shouting?" she asked.
"I'll stop shouting. I won't sit down. I might need to throw more inkpots. — Megan Whalen Turner

We're slammed at work and busy at home. Throw in an occasional outing with friends or significant others, and we're ready for bed at 10:00 PM every night. Really ready for bed. There's barely enough time in a day to cover all our mandatory obligations, so optional activities like novel writing, journaling, painting or playing music
things that feel great but no one will ever take us to task for shirking
are invariably left for another day.
Which is how most of us become 'one day' novelists. As in, 'One day, I'd really like to write a novel.' The problem is that that day never seems to come, and so we're stuck. — Chris Baty

She grabbed a towel from the rail and wrapped it around him, lifting him straight out of the bath, kicking and screaming. She carried him into his bedroom and laid him with elaborate care on the bed because she was terrified she might throw him against the wall. — Liane Moriarty

But Paul's vision of God's love, rising here like the sun on a clear summer's morning, shines through all the detail that has gone before. You need to wake up early, to get out of bed, and to throw back the curtains, to see it; that's what the previous four chapters are about. But now that we have done all that, the view is here for us to enjoy. And to be dazzled by. God's love has done everything we could need, everything we shall need. — N. T. Wright

The important things in life always happened by accident. At fifteen she didn't know much, in fact, with each passing year she was a lot less clear about most things. But this much she did know. You could worry yourself sick trying to be a better person, spend a thousand sleepless nights figuring out how to live clean and decent and honest, you could make a plan and bolt it in place, kneel by your bed every night and swear to God you'd stick to it, hell, you could go to church and promise properly. You could cross your heart seven times with your eyes tight shut, cut your thumb and squeeze it and pen solemn vows on a rock with your own blood then throw it in the river at the stroke of midnight. And then, out of the black beyond, like a hawk on a rat, some nameless catastrophe would swoop into your life and turn everything upside down and inside out forever. — Nicholas Evans

You're killing me in this proper little suit," he said, skating a heated look over her shirt. "My place or yours?"

She swallowed thickly, the hand against his chest beginning to sweat. "I-I'm busy."

"You're gonna be," he said, smiling. "Need to know what bed you're gonna be in, though. Bringing my A game."

"Don't you think - ?"

"About you underneath me? Only every other minute. Now answer me, or else I'll throw you on the nearest desk."

Heat burst onto her cheeks. He noticed.

"Oh, really?" He smiled down at her. — Jessica Lemmon

I don't throw lavish parties or nothing like that - I just want a bed and a TV. — Bruno Mars

We may need to focus here.' 'Right. Yes. OK. Turn around.' 'Are you going to throw something at me?' 'What? No, I'm getting out of bed. — Derek Landy

Wow,Cal," I said, feeling a little bit like myself for the first time since I'd walked into this crazy house. "You will be able to have some awesome slumber parties in here.All of the other girls are gonna be so jealous."
Cal shot me a half smile, and I felt some of the weird-ness between us dissipate. "It's not so bad," he said. Then he flopped down on the bed, only to sink out of sight in the middle of it. As Cal drowned in a sea of fluffy coverlets and throw pillows, I couldn't help but crack up.
Lara looked offended. "That bed originally belonged to the third Duke of Cornwall."
"It's great," Cal said, his voice muffled. He gave her the thumbs-up, which only made me and Jenna laugh harder. — Rachel Hawkins

Of course I am, Gran," I said quietly. I blew out a breath and leaned my elbows on my knees. "I will admit that the withdrawals suck, though."
"That they do," she agreed and came to sit on the bed with me. "The sooner you get to her, the better you'll feel."
"Yeah, but I don't want to scare her. If I run over there before a decent hour, she'll probably freak and kick me out."
"I highly doubt that, boy." She lifted a piece of hair from next to my ear with her fingers. "Girls usually invite cute boys in, not throw them out. — Shelly Crane

I go through periods where I don't shop at all, and then I go crazy and buy everything in sight. I never know what to wear, and I'm at my worst before an audition. I pull everything out of the closet, throw it on my bed. I'll get entirely dressed and then take it all off again until I'm in a kind of frenzy. — Brooke Adams

Like my father, I would never as a child throw anything away, keeping old toys, electric motors and bits of broken machines under my bed in what I called my Box of Useful Things. — Nick Park

If you look at me like that for even one more second, I'm gonna throw you down on that bed and fuck every part of you, starting with your tits. Unless that's on the menu, you need to grab your shit and leave while you still can. This is the only warning you'll get. — Joanna Wylde

So, sweeting, why were you threatening to throw Tate out of the house? What did he say?"
Leather brushed her chin as he tipped it up. Serious dark eyes met hers. "What did he say?"
She glanced around; surely the footmen were too far away to hear. "He wanted to join us in our bed."
"I'll run him through."
"No! Perhaps he only said it to goad you into a duel. Perhaps it was intended as a way to kill you."
"It was an insult to you, love. That can't be ignored."
"And so you rush inexorably toward death. I don't care if he stands on a Drury Lane stage and calls me a courtesan, I won't have you risking your life. — Sharon Page

I hung my belly-dancing outfit on a hook in my room, rather than on the outside of the door where it usually stayed. That would be a painfully obvious ploy for Hunter's attention. I made myself a gourmet dinner by opening a pack of peanut butter crackers, and I settled on my bed to study.
Listened for Hunter in the outer room.
Waited for him to burst in.
Of course he didn't. It bothered me that he didn't come in to bother me, and he knew this. However, I had vowed to close my heart to him, and I meant it this time. I tried my best to throw myself into my history reading.
But come on, it was history. Versus Hunter. — Jennifer Echols