Touch Series Quotes & Sayings

Giffen's large hand is cupping my chin as he kneels in front of my jump seat. "Kricket," he says while shaking my head to try to get a response from me. Groaning, I mutter, "Are you really shaking my head right now? It already hurts like a spix kicked it, so stop!" "Getting in touch with your spirit animal, were you?" His question is flippant, but there's relief in his tone that he can't hide. "Yeah, it said to give you this." I raise my middle finger at him. He stares at it, because the gesture means nothing to him. "I should take your finger?" he asks. "I hate you,"
Bartol, Amy A. (2015-03-31). Sea of Stars (The Kricket Series Book 2) (p. 285). 47North. Kindle Edition. — Amy A. Bartol

Okay, someone's been smoking the wacky tobacky. And keep your hands to yourself!" She smacked at his roving fingers, fighting the shivers following his touch. "I agreed to let you accompany me because, well...maybe you're right. We should try and put the animosity between our families-stop that!" She gripped his fingers and tried to twist them, but he easily pulled out of her grip.
Alessandro laughed. "Darling, I haven't laughed in ages like I do when I'm with you. I propose a clean slate, eh?" He sighed and sat back against the seat. "Brianna. I'm not going to give up until you are mine. You could make this so much easier if you just accept the inevitable." He lifted his hand to cup the side of her face. "We belong to each other, and you know it. — E. Jamie

But no life was without it's strain & strife, not if it was fully lived. Opening up to experience, even the good ones like trust & love, was to open yourself up to the pain. I suppose the key was to not compound matters by making the rest of it unnecessarily hard. My need for control had certainly done that in the past. So I made a promise to myself in that moment.
I would make a concerted effort to reach for what was soft & good in this world. I'd find a place to settle into, and hold still so that this world's good and soft could reach back & touch me as well. — Vicki Pettersson

You're like this frosting." She swiped another swirl of it on her finger, stood and leaned forward to touch it to his bottom lip. "Pretty, momentarily pleasurable, but with no real substance or sustenance. — Tracey Alvarez

One spirit remained unaware of his presence, staring at Miss Parker with such longing that he reluctantly decided to let it stay. The spirit, a hollow-eyed girl with ringlets and clothing from long past, reached toward Percy, wishing to touch her. Alexi understood. When left to her own devices, Miss Parker was neither shy nor awkward; she was radiant. — Leanna Renee Hieber

If you have ever felt the world melt away when the woman you know is destined to be yours walks into the room; if you have felt your soul reach out to hers, finally making you feel whole; if you tremble when you touch her from sheer awe at being the one who has that right; if the darkness swallows you and you begin to suffocate at the thought of losing her, then you will have a small taste of what it is like to be bonded. Costin — Quinn Loftis

You made me feel like I was the most important person in the world to you, and then you showed me I never really mattered at all." I stood up. "I hate you for that, Logan."
He got to his feet and came closer. The intensity in his eyes left me frozen, and some sick part of me ached for his touch. His deep voice rumbled. "You are all that ever mattered to me. — Lisa Kessler

The wind yanked at my hair, and despite being nearly shot more than once in the same night, I laughed. "I love this car." Aren turned my way, and the smile on his face reached all the way inside of me to touch places I thought had died years ago. A dash of fear mingled with the adrenaline. I could love a lot more than his car. - Sasha from Hunter's Moon — Lisa Kessler

The greatest successes grow out of great failures. In numerous instances the result is better that comes after a series of abortive experiences than it would have been if it had come at once; for all these successive failures induce a skill which is so much additional power working into the final achievement ... The hand that evokes such perfect music from the instrument has often failed in its touch, and bungled among the keys ... Every disappointed effort fences in and indicates the only possible path of success, and makes it easier to find. — Edwin Hubbel Chapin

Will you be able to touch me again without thinking about Sean? I don't want you to be disgusted by me. — Stephanie Witter

Touch is a magical thing, Natti," he explained. "It can comfort." He raised one hand and stroked her cheek, soft and gentle. "It can entice." His thumb moved along her jaw and applied pressure as it traveled down her neck, causing her to shiver with delight. "And it can hurt. Whatever the intensions, it brings two people together. It makes a certain ... connection. — Kelsey Ketch

The audible signals people can produce are not a series of crisp beeps like on a touch-tone phone. Speech is a river of breath, bent into hisses and hums by the soft flesh of the mouth and throat. — Steven Pinker

I swear I won't touch you even with a finger until you ask me yourself. — Olga Goa

A laborer no longer makes whole articles. He receives raw materials, puts his touch on them, and passes them to another worker in the series. When the articles are quite finished they are carried out of sight by currents of commercial exchange. These currents are untraceable. — John Bates Clark

I started picturing Rens smiling face, the warmth of his touch, the slight curl of his lip before he kissed me. Every happy memory came rushing back through the blackness illuminating it in brilliant color. — S.G. Holster

His power reached out to her like physical touch of a lover, sending tingles over her skin. His sculptured body moved in a sensual, yet deadly manner. Her hands itched to touch him, to feel his warm skin under her palms. She closed her eyes to stop the urge to go to him, shivered, and cursed her body for responding to him. — Lia Davis

The recollections of an older man are different from those of a younger man. What seemed vital at forty may lose its significance at seventy. We manufacture stories, after all, from the fleeting sensory material that bombards us at every instant, a fragmented series of pictures, conversations, odors, and the touch of things and people. We delete most of it to live with some semblance of order, and the reshuffling of memory goes on until we die. — Siri Hustvedt

Listen and listen good, shitbrain. If you ever touch someone I love again, I will shove this cross down your throat and watch you choke on it. You want to know why a Prince of Hell wanted me so bad? Now you do. I'm not a nice girl. I'm a Seer. It is my job to save the people of the world from vultures like you. Now you take that back to whoever your boss is and let him come find me, if he's stupid enough. I'll bury you all if I have to. — Kyoko M.

She brought her hand to his chest. His chiseled muscles
responded to her touch, and a moan escaped her as he clutched her
tighter. Calisto's fingers slid through her hair, and her lips parted, her
tongue tasting him, tangling with his until her knees buckled.
Dear God, this man could kiss. — Lisa Kessler

Her recoil confirmed the disgust Grant felt inside. Who was he kidding, trying to put Vladimir and Andrei behind bars? He was no different from his father. Then he remembered Sophie's words.
"You're not like them. You're my McSailor."
A soft touch made him smile, thinking of Bonnie, before he realized it was Innochka's hand stroking his face. The touch of a mobster's girlfriend. He leaped back, still crouched on his feet. — Jennifer Lane

There is no urge to touch, to kiss, to embrace. But I do it just the same. It is our last charm. Love isn't a thing, after all, but an endless series of single acts. — Richard Ford

Harry -
I'm flying north immediately. This news about your scar is the latest in a series of strange rumors that have reached me here. If it hurts again, go straight to Dumbledore - they're saying he's got Mad-Eye out of retirement, which means he's reading the signs, even if no one else is.
I'll be in touch soon. My best to Ron and Hermione. Keep your eyes open,Harry.
Sirius
Dear Sirius,
I reckon I just imagined my scar hurting, I was half asleep when I wrote to you last time. There's no point coming back, everything's fine here. Don't worry about me, my head feels completely normal.
Harry
Nice try, Harry.
I'm back in the country and well hidden. I want you to keep me posted on
everything that's going on at Hogwarts. Don't use Hedwig, keep changing owls,and don't worry about me, just watch out for yourself Don't forget what I said about your scar.
Sirius — J.K. Rowling

I'm trying to decide whether to tell you two to get a room or go barf in the trash can," Emma said. "I'm leaning toward the second choice. You are both getting way too weird. And gross."
Cal barked out a laugh and slid his fingers down my arm to entwine with mine. His touch, and Emma's comments, only made me blush more. Looks like Emma saw Cal lick my face after all.
Now that wasn't awkward or anything. — E.J. Stevens

Presently, I sense within me the slightest touch. The harmony of one chord lingers in my mind. It fuses, divides, searches
but for what? I open my eyes, position the fingers of my right hand on the buttons, and play out a series of permutations.
After a time, I am able, as if by will, to locate the first four notes. They drift down from inward skies, softly, as early morning sunlight. They find me; these are the notes I have been seeking.
I hold down the chord key and press the individual notes over and over again. The four notes seem to desire further notes, another chord. I strain to hear the chord that follows. The first four notes lead me to the next five, then to another chord and three more notes.
It is a melody. Not a complete song, but the first phrase of one. I play the three chords and twelve notes, also, over and over again. It is a song, I realize, I know. — Haruki Murakami

We are together. That means I don't look at another woman the way I look at you. I don't touch another woman the way I touch you. I don't feel about any woman the way I feel about you. Got it? Don't ever think I'd throw away what we have for a cheap, meaningless fuck. You either trust me, or you don't. So what's it going to be? -Ronin Black — Lorelei James

Life isn't always about things you can see or hear or touch. Sometimes it's more than that. — Rachel Morgan

A dicking? Is that what you want, Camille? Because if it is let me assure you that a dicking I can give but neither of those two ass-clowns will ever touch you again once I do. So unless you can make that choice; don't tease me, Precious. — Sai Marie Johnson

The thirst we shared for one another made it clear that the distraction would only come from deprivation. Charlotte was always on my mind. In my dreams, her name balancing fatally on my lips at all times, the scent of her drove me on through my everyday tasks. It was in denying myself of her soft skin and intoxicating presence that I truly began to lose touch. — Shawn Kirsten Maravel

The key to resisting Voice," Barrons instructed, "is finding that place inside you no one else can touch.
"You mean the sidhe-seer place?" I said, hopping like a one-legged chicken.
"No, a different place. All people have it. Not just sidhe-seers. We're born alone and we die alone. That place."
"I don't get it."
"I know. That's why you're hopping. — Karen Marie Moning

When we live completely from the mind over a period of time, we lose touch with the infinite self, and then we begin to feel lost. This happens when we'are in doing mode all the time, rather than being . The latter means letting ourselves be who and what we are without judgment. Being doesn't mean that we don't do anything. It's just that our actions stem from following our emotions and feelings while staying present in the moment. Doing, on the other hand, is future focused, with the mind creating a series of tasks that take us from here to there in order to achieve a particular outcome, regardless of our current emotional state. — Anita Moorjani

Cinema is a visual language, and you're always looking for visual metaphors for things. You know, if I was writing a play about Howard Hughes, I could have him give a monologue about how he's terrified to touch a doorknob. But on screen, you know, working with Marty Scorsese in 'The Aviator,' that became the series of images that told a story. — John Logan

It was as if a door had opened somewhere. Or possibly a series of doors. There was a sensation as of a breeze blowing into the house and bringing with it the half-remembered
scents of childhood. There was a shift in the light which seemed to cause all the shadows in the room to fall differently. There was nothing more definite than that, and yet, as often
happens when some magic is occurring, both Drawlight and the lady had the strongest impression that nothing in the visible world could be relied upon any more. It was as if one might put out one's hand to touch any thing in the room and discover it was no longer
there. — Susanna Clarke

We try to guide with a light touch. Sometimes we can be helpful, and my goal with my team, both on the series side and on the film side, is that the collaboration should always be invited. In other words, we're not looking to impose our view on the filmmaker; we hire a storyteller because we love the story, and we love their ability to tell it. — Ted Sarandos

What's the point of keeping in touch with the girl you're crazy about, when you're dying? — Marie Lu

Lissa Treiman is an artist who submitted a guest strip to me back in 2008 and whose work I've followed since. She works in animation. When I first mentioned on Twitter that I was interested in writing a series but not drawing it, she got in touch. — John Allison

A writer like me must have an utter confidence, an utter faith in his star. It's an almost mystical feeling, a feeling of nothing-can-happen-to me, nothing-can-touch-me ... I once had it. But through a series of blows, many of them my own fault, something happened to that sense of immunity and I lost my grip. — F Scott Fitzgerald

A flicker of someone else's memory came to Simon and he picked up Excalibur from where he had dropped it. Carefully, he laid Excalibur on Arthur's chest. A smile crossed the king's pasty face as he closed his grazed hands around the sword's hilt. The touch of something so familiar seemed to give Arthur cause to close his eyes and after a final, relieved breath left his lips, he died. — Sam Whitehouse

She shut her eyes to block out the image. This was all kinds of madness. "Tanner."

Matilda opened her eyes at the sound of her voice. It was deep and ragged, almost a growl. Maybe a plea.

"Tanner, what?" he asked, his voice as husky as hers as he flicked his gaze to her face. "Tanner, stop? Tanner, leave?" He slid a hand low on her stomach, the muscles beneath tensing in anticipation. "Tanner touch me?"

A lazy finger stroked the skin just above the waist band of her boxers, the sensation coursing white hot need straight between her legs. — Amy Andrews

Where the blue water began, I could not guess. It stretched out far enough to reach and touch the sky. The contrasting blues of the two vast expanses did not meld together, kept apart by a line that rimmed the world, a horizon line that perhaps prevented the water from rising into the heavens and the sky from draining into the sea. — Michael Puttonen