Up His Sleeve Quotes & Sayings

I've already got the storm figured out. Some idiot blew up the sun. Some dumb Russian general pushed the wrong button and launched one of their million missiles, or maybe NASA misaimed one of our test rockets. Either way, the sun is gone and we're now engaged in a nuclear shootout. It's the end of everything. Batman and Superman aren't coming and James Bond doesn't have a trick up his sleeve to save us this time. In a week or a month, we'll all freeze to death, just like in that Twilight Zone episode where the pretty lady is burning up with fever, dreaming the sun is baking the world dry, when really the Earth has dropped out of orbit, is hurtling further and further away from the sun, rapidly turning into a big ball of ice. — Bob Thurber

But God always has a holy surprise up His sovereign sleeve. And when we pray, God throws surprise parties! — Mark Batterson

A voice: "My goodness, Nurse Jones." I look up, startled. Simon's in the doorway, leaning against the frame, smiling.
No doubt I'm quite the sight in my bloody, sexy nurse's outfit, sitting on a bed next to a tied-up, taped-up target. "Oh, please." I collect my purse, my phone and my stun gun and walk around the bed.
Simon's smile reaches deep into his dark blue eyes. He has a long face and delicate features for a man.
I grab the sleeve of his black jacket and pull him into the outer room.
"What the fuck are you wearing? You look insane," he says.
"This? This is the creepy outfit the Alchemist put me in after he kidnapped me."
Simon stops smiling. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah. — Carolyn Crane

While I sleep, and I sleep often these days, he spends much of his time in the church downtown. The very one I never could convince him to attend. He claims he is praying. But I know he is trying to strike a bargain with our Maker.
One hand of Black Jack, I know he says. Winner gets to keep the girl.
I know for sure, were J. granted that game of cars with the Almighty, he'd go into it with both an ace and a jack up his sleeve. — Suzanne Brockmann

Evie touched the surface of Cam's coat sleeve. "Is my father awake now?" she asked anxiously. "May I go up to see him?"
"Of course." The Gypsy took both her hands in a light grip, the gold rings warmed by the liberal heat of his fingers. "I will see to it that no one interferes."
"Thank you." Suddenly Sebastian reached between them and plucked one of Evie's hands away, pulling it decisively to his own arm. Though his manner was casual, the firm pressure of his fingers ensured that she would not try to pull away.
Puzzled by the display of possessiveness, Evie frowned. "I have known Cam since childhood," she said pointedly. "He has always been quite kind to me."
"A husband always likes to hear of kindnesses done for his wife," Sebastian replied coolly. "Within limits, of course."
"Of course," Cam said softly. — Lisa Kleypas

He plucked at a long rose cane that attempted to grab his sleeve as he passed through the gate. "Good morning, my lady. May I give you my arm up the street? I'm engaged to escort this rosebush to the shops, but I'll fob it off. — Laura Kinsale

The sound of his rough voice was ... comforting, like there was safety wherever he was. Well, some safety ... he certainly had an awful lot of sneaky tricks up his sleeve. — Cherise Sinclair

She twisted her hair as if the question made her uncomfortable. "Seeing the past is simple magic. Seeing the present or the future - that is not." "Yeah, well," Leo said. "Watch and learn, Sunshine. I just connect these last two wires, and - " The bronze plate sparked. Smoke billowed from the sphere. A flash of fire raced up Leo's sleeve. He pulled off his shirt, threw it down, and stomped on it. He could tell Calypso was trying not to laugh, but she was shaking with the effort. "Not a word," Leo warned. She glanced at his bare chest, which was sweaty, bony, and streaked with old scars from weapon-making accidents. "Nothing worth commenting on," she assured him. "If you want that device to work, perhaps you should try a musical invocation." "Right," he said. "Whenever an engine malfunctions, I like to tap-dance around it. Works every time. — Rick Riordan

Interesting how fashion is cyclical," Jaccob said when she came out of the store with two black plastic bags. "Goth was the look when I was young, too."
"It's not a look," Chuck said. "I'm just wearing my feelings on the outside."
"Uh huh." His phone buzzed. "Hang on a second."
He rolled up his sleeve to check his HUD, but the call hadn't come through there.
Huh. He had to pick up his phone and check the read-out, which listed a phone number: an old school page. "That's funny ... "
"Dad, you're doing that thing again," Chuck said.
"What thing?" Jaccob asked.
"That thing where you have to check every single doohickey you carry around."
"I am not." Jaccob took his hand out of his coat pocket, where he'd been reaching to check his police scanner or music player (he hadn't decided which to use first). — Erik Scott De Bie

I want to annihilate that man," her father growled. "He has taken my house. He has taken my drawings. I swear by all that is holy he is trying to take my daughter." At Libby's gasp, her father whirled to fix her with an angry glare. "Yes, my daughter! That man has more tricks up his sleeve than a traveling magician. Don't think he is fascinated by your charms, Libby. The man only wants to take whatever is mine. — Elizabeth Camden

I don't want any more insults. I'd like to experience three whole minutes in your presence before you lay into me again ... and we really should make sure the tools are all locked up. (Acheron)
(He pulled the sleeve of his jacket back to look at his watch.)
Let me start timing ... (Acheron)
(She opened her mouth to respond, but he held his hand up.)
Wait for it. We got two minutes and fifty-give seconds to go. (Acheron)
I'm not that bad. (Tory)
Yeah ... you're not standing in my shoes. (Acheron)
And judging by the ungodly size of them, I don't think there are many people who could. (Tory)
We almost made it to thirty seconds without an insult. I think we just set a new record. (Acheron) — Sherrilyn Kenyon

"Do you have any more surprise stowaways up your sleeve?" I ask Morpheus.
Pushing dents out of his hat, he scowls. "I'm starting to fear I didn't bring enough. If there's one thing netherlings are good at, it's cleaning messes." — A.G. Howard

The door is in front of you," he said. She turned her head slightly so that she could keep an eye on him even as she observed the basement door. "Any tricks up your sleeve? A secret password?" "Turning the knob will do it." "How very mundane." Alexandria reached for the door-knob at the same time he did. His arm curved around her, bringing their bodies close so that she smelled his clean, masculine scent and felt the heat of him right through their clothes. Hastily she dropped her hand. As he opened the door, she could have sworn she heard soft, taunting laughter in her ear. When she turned to glare at him, his face was all innocence. Alexandria refrained from kicking his shins and with great dignity walked into the brightly lit kitchen, proud of her self-control. Aidan — Christine Feehan

He reaches across me for a BLT and the sleeve on his suit rides up slightly. Holy sweet baby Jesus! He has tattoos around his wrist. Not a tattoo - singular, on his wrist, no. His wrist is wrapped in tattoos down to his cuff, leaving me in no doubt he is hiding a full sleeve up there. My knees actually wobble. Bloody hell, this guy is something right out of my inappropriate dreams. I need to move away now or I'll embarrass myself...again. — Kerry Heavens

I still like boiled potatoes with the skins on," he said, "and I do not want a man standing in back of my chair, laughing up his sleeve at me while I am taking the potatoes' jackets off." Of pleasure and material things he was wary. "I have never known what to do with money after my expenses were paid. I can't squander it on myself without hurting myself," he said, "and nobody wants to do that. — David Halberstam

Resting on the roots of this old oak I lean back against his knotted trunk, shine my granny smith on my sleeve And ponder the days ... — Kellie Elmore

The master always keeps a piece of learning
that is to say, a piece of the student's ignorance
up his sleeve. I understood that, says the satisfied student. You think so, corrects the master. in fact, there's a difficulty here that I've been sparing you until now. We will explain it when we get to the corresponding lesson. What does this mean? asks the curious student. I could tell you, responds the master, but it would be premature: you wouldn't understand at all. It will be explained to you next year. The master is always a length ahead of the student, who always feels that in order to go farther he must have another master, supplementary explications. Thus does the triumphant Achilles drag Hector's corpse, attached to his chariot, around the city of Troy. — Jacques Ranciere

God's always got a custard pie up his sleeve. — Margaret Forster

His eyes lit up again. "Kota was right about you."
I tilted my head at him. "What did he say?"
"He said there's this beautiful angel who has her heart on her sleeve and we have to keep her safe. — C.L.Stone

You are sauntering along the back streets of Avallon; you step into a tavern for a cup of wine. A great lummox claims that you have molested his wife; he takes up his cutlass and comes at you. So now! With your knife! Draw and throw! All in a single movement! You advance, pull your knife from the villain's neck, wipe it on his sleeve. If in fact you have molested the dead churl's wife, bid her begone! The episode has quite dampened your spirit. But you are attacked from another side by another husband. Quick! — Jack Vance

Do you have a name I asked?" I asked.
"Yes." He stared back at me, blinking.
"What is it?"
"Clover." He looked away and typed something into the computer. His mouth kept twitching, like he was trying to hold in laughter.
"Seriously?"
He pushed his sleeve up, giving me a view of a blue clover tattooed on his forearm. "I'm half Irish."
And half shithead. — Tara Kelly

As they left, Eve watched him slide the coffee sleeve off the drink and put it in his pocket.
After they'd walked a few blocks, she questioned him. "Why'd you keep the sleeve?"
Blake pulled out the cardboard and looked down at it. "Just to remember I could do it."
Eve grabbed it from him quickly, ripped it in half, and threw it in a trashcan on the sidewalk. Blake held his hands up and gave her a What the hell? look.
"Don't tie your success to anything other than what's inside you." She stepped up to him and gently patted his heart. "You did this, Blake. You. Not the coffee, not me, not Livia. You did this. — Debra Anastasia

How's things, man?" The black man extended his hand for a handshake. Mathematical formulae were jotted on the sleeve of his shirt, right up to the elbow.
"Very good," said Peter. It had never occurred to him before that dark-skinned people didn't have the option of jotting numbers on their skin. You learned something new about human diversity every day. — Michel Faber

Does it hurt here?" he asked, his fingers slipping over the swollen entrance of her sex.
"A little." She leaned back against his arm, her head lolling on the polished wooden rim of the huge porcelain bathtub.
Nick kneaded lightly with his fingertips, as if he could heal her with his touch. "I tried to be gentle."
"You were," she managed to say, her thighs floating apart.
Nick's thick lashes lowered as he stared at the shimmering blur of her body beneath the water. His handsome features were carved with such severity that his face could have been molded from bronze. The edge of his rolled-up sleeve dragged in the water, the velvet turning hot and sodden.
"I won't ever hurt you again," he said. "That's a promise. — Lisa Kleypas

But somehow, the way he looks doesn't quite compute in the manner it should. Instead, it just makes me realise something: I've never met a man as handsome as him who behaves the way he does. Who wears all of his expressions on his sleeve and puts a hand up his own cardigan and doesn't seem aware that he's utterly, utterly lovely. — Charlotte Stein

Fortune favors the bold," he said. "But she'll only fall for a bloke who's got an ace up his sleeve. — Courtney Alameda

That present sucked," I muttered.
Dad slipped an arm around my shoulder and helped me sit up. As he did, his sleeve fell back to reveal several slivers of demonglass embedded in his forearm.
"I'm fine," he said before I could ask. "Cal can get them out later. Are you all right?"
My shoulder was still on fire, but there was no pain anywhere else, and other than the shock of being blown backward and stabbed, I was peachy. "I think so. What was that, like a magic pipe bomb?"
The present lay in tatters on the floor, its ribbon coiling and snapping like a snake. Cal stomped on the ribbon, and it went still. "Seems like it," he said grimly.
"And it was ensorcelled to seek you out," Dad added. He looked so worried and angry that I decided not to give him a hard time for using a word like ensorcelled. — Rachel Hawkins

If you believe that God makes miracles you have to wonder if Satan has a few up his sleeve. — Jeff Lindsay

There was always, he thought, this pleasure ahead of him, an ace of joy up his sleeve so he could say you can do anything to me, take everything away, put me in prison, but I will know [her] when we are old. — Michael Ondaatje

I like your jumper," she said into it.

"You like my what?" Jared asked. Kami tugged at his sleeve in response and he laughed. "In the civilized land of the Americas, we call that a sweater. A jumper is a dress. You might as well have just said, 'Why, Jared, what a fetching frock you're wearing today.' "

"Why, Jared, what a fetching frock you're wearing today," Kami said instantly, raising her head so she could lift her face up to his. "You look ever so pretty."

Jared laughed, a soft huff of breath, and rested his forehead gently against hers. "Your frock's fairly fetching as well."

Kami closed her eyes, embarrassed to let him see she was happy he'd noticed. "Thanks."

"Not as fetching as mine, of course," Jared added. "I am the prettiest. — Sarah Rees Brennan

I am unarmed. But Butler here, my ... ah ... butler, has a Sig Saucer in his shoulder holster, two shrike-throwing knives in his boots, aderringer two-shot up his sleeve, garrotte wire in his watch, and three stun greanades concealed in variouse pockets. Anything else, Butler? — Eoin Colfer

But then he rolls his eyes and gives me a half smile. "Fine. But if you must give me the Mark of the Beast, at least put it where I don't have to see it constantly."
"Such as?"
"If we want to be in keeping with what I think of the damned symbol, I'll drop trou and you can stamp it on my ass. But in the interest of propriety . . ." He rolls up his left sleeve, and I stamp the inside of his arm. — Rysa Walker

She was gauging him, trying to work out what cards he had up his sleeve. For now he might be able to keep her off balance by smiling meaningfully and dropping hints, delaying the moment in which she realized that she held all the cards, and that his well-brushed sleeves held nothing but his arms. — Frances Hardinge

I've just been transferred to Kanglung," I say. They look at me to see if I am joking, and then they look at each other. There is a long, terrible silence and we all look at the floor. Karma Dorji wipes his runny nose on his sleeve and looks up. "Oh, miss," he says sadly. "Please don't go."
"Just a minute," I say, and go into the bathroom. I latch the door and turn on the tap full force. When the water is running noisily, I lean my hot forehead against the damp, flaking concrete, and cry. — Jamie Zeppa

Sven must have neglected to pay tribute to one of those strict Nordic gods. But instead of cursing Eriksson himself, Thor has done a still crueller thing and cursed the England strikers. I can only assume that Eriksson was never informed of this curse, otherwise he might have more than a 17-year-old up his sleeve. — Simon Barnes

I'm all right,' Jace protested, but his hand gripped Alec's sleeve tightly. 'I can stand.'
It looks to me like you're using a wall to prop you up. That's not my definition of "standing."'
It's leaning,' Jace told him. 'Leaning comes right before standing. — Cassandra Clare

Repo stared at me, waiting for me to continue. When I didn't, he frowned. "That's it?"

"That's it."

He shook his head slowly. "No. That's not it. You've got something up your sleeve. You always do."

I clutched my chest as though the accusation wounded me. "Uncle Repo!" and then I added with a respectful head tilt and mock sincerity, ". . . I'm flattered."

He smirked, squinting and turning for the door. "I'll see what I can do. — Penny Reid

Jesus has all kinds of projects up his sleeve and is simply waiting for faithful people to say their prayers, to read the signs of the times, and to get busy. — N. T. Wright

Just as I was about to close my eyes I saw a faint line connecting the shadows, like string you take into a forest so you don't lose your way. Everything in the room was joined by one line; the frame to the curtain, the coil to the crack, the belt to the shoe. I closed my eyes and in the vision behind the skin of my lids I saw the line stretch way out to sea, like cobweb blown by the wind, further and further; it crossed the Pacific until the Pacific became the Indian and it found Robby in his ship. It touched his shoulder and moved across the sleeve of his shirt and up to his eyes and across the top of his head and then the line went to all the other men on the ship; then all the way back to me. Everyone was joined. — Sofie Laguna

The Hammer was a hard man, a smart man too, and he took pride in always having a plan 'b'. For those troubling occasions when plan 'b' didn't work, he would strive to also have a plan 'c' in place. In short, he was the kind of man who always had something up his sleeve besides his funny bone. The pilot, his trusted second man gave him a worried look.
"What do we do now? — Christina Engela

WORRY NOT, PRINCESS," Ironhorse said, and I gaped at him, not believing my eyes. Where a horse had been, now a man stood before me, dark and massive, with a square jaw and fists the size of hams. He wore jeans and a black shirt that bulged with all the muscles underneath, the skin stretched tight over steely tendons. Dreadlocks spilled from his scalp like a mane, and his eyes still burned with that intense red glow. "YOU ARE NOT THE ONLY ONE WITH A FEW TRICKS UP YOUR SLEEVE, GOODFELLOW," he said, a faint smirk beneath his voice. "NOW, GO. I WILL BE RIGHT BEHIND YOU. — Julie Kagawa

Rub wiped his nose on his sleeve. "I just wisht - " "What?" Rub sighed. Where to begin? "That I'd be nicer to you?" He shrugged again, but this was the gist of it, Sully could tell. "I wish I would, too," he said, and for some reason this seemed to cheer Rub up. — Richard Russo

We never know what God has up His sleeve. You never know what might happen; you only know what you have to do now. — Elisabeth Elliot

Maybe your tutors didn't cover this lesson, but you do not argue with a man covered in blood and a knife up his sleeve. — Leigh Bardugo

A true leader always keeps an element of surprise up his sleeve, which others cannot grasp but which keeps his public excited and breathless. — Charles De Gaulle

A firefly landed on Honor's sleeve and began walking up her shoulder, its tail still blinking. As she craned her neck to look down at it, Jack chuckled. "Don't be scared. It's just a lightning bug." He placed his finger in its path. Honor tried not to think about the pressure of his touch. When the firefly crawled onto his finger, he lifted it up and let it fly off, signaling its escape route with sparks of light. — Tracy Chevalier

A girl clutched Magnus's sleeve and gazed up at him, her false lashes dusted with silver glitter. "Don't go in," she whispered. "There's a monster in there."
I am a monster, Magnus thought. And monsters are his specialty.
He didn't say it. Instead he said, "I don't believe you," and walked in. He meant it, too: the
Shadowhunters, even Alec, might believe Magnus was a monster, but Magnus didn't believe it himself. He'd taught himself not to believe it even though his mother, the man he'd called his father, and a thousand others had told him it was true.
Magnus would not believe the girl in there was a monster either, no matter what she might look like to mundanes and Nephilim. She had a soul, and that meant she could be saved. — Cassandra Clare

Fold it like an animation. I'm sure you remember the rules."
Ceony nodded, but as Mg. Thane finished the last Folds, she saw up his loose coat sleeve to a bandage coiled thickly around his right forearm.
Something inside of her twanged, like a fiddle string had been stretched down her torso, fastened between throat and navel. With a soft voice, she asked, "What happened to your arm?"
Mg. Thane's fingers stilled. He glanced up at her, then to his arm. He pulled the sleeve down to the palm of his hand. "Just a bump," he said. "I often forget how much focus walking requires. — Charlie N. Holmberg

Zombies?" There was definite interest in that word. "Are you a brother in arms? Do you also kill those brain sucking monsters?" I realized I was talking to someone who probably killed people every day, well not every day because that's excessive. The deli man didn't put enough rare roast beef on his sandwich and so he slit his throat with the dagger he had hidden up his sleeve. I giggled at the thought. Again — L.A. Fiore

I'll be back before nightfall." She crammed her handkerchief back up her sleeve and gathered the reins. "Julia?" She stopped, but didn't look at him. "I'll be waiting for you." She swallowed and nodded, but shouted giddyap without answering. She was pretty certain he had that look in his eye again, and she didn't want to see it. — Melissa Jagears

He might have been naive, but he didn't care; he said he's rather die with his heart on his sleeve than end up another cynic. — Colum McCann

Lost in the wasteland, Ashbery was found by a light flickering up from between the fractured paving stones. Its beams were bitterly cold, and sticky in a way light had no right to be, adhering to his sleeve and hand before fading away. Intrigued, he tracked its source from one eruption to another, each point brighter than the one before. — Clive Barker

I want you to finish a tat for me." He yanked his long sleeve shirt up and over his head in a seductive motion that covered his tat infested body than turned his back and peaked over his shoulder mischievously at her. "The wings of a wench...ah I mean wrench. — Rose D. Cassidy

Jones paused, reached into his sleeve, and pulled out a cigarette. "But I can't help but think that I'm taking advice from a grunt that's more fucked up than a left handed football bat. — B. Rockow

A first-rate organizer is never in a hurry. He is never late. He always keeps up his sleeve a margin for the unexpected. — Arnold Bennett

I continued to move my fingers across his skin exactly as I had before, but I needed to make a decision. I had reached for him, but I could back out of it by trailing my fingers down his arm and settling my hand in his, like I wanted us to be friends.
I didn't want us to be friends.
Ever so slowly, I slid my hand up his sleeve, across his shoulder, and up his neck to cradle his jaw, prickly with stubble. — Jennifer Echols

What happened?" I ask. My heart hurts.
"That big guy," he says. His voice is high and tight. "Number forty-six. Jeez, he just bashed his shoulder right into my chest, and when I was on the ground, he steps on my leg with his cleat." He sniffs hard, rubs his nose on his sleeve, doesn't meet my eyes.
"That bastard," I say. "The minute he gets off the field I'm going to kick him in the balls." Oliver laughs a little, his eyes filling up at the same time. "He'll never know what hit him. His balls are gonna go flying, I promise you that. People will wish they brought their catcher's mitts. — Deb Caletti

He's showed him the left leg, then the right. Where's the ball, the defender asks? It's up his sleeve. — Clive Tyldesley

Watch 'Dog with a Blog' to get a good laugh, to see me, of course, and to see an awesome, awesome talking dog who is the cleverest, most awesome dude in the world. He's really, really adorable and cute, and it's really cool seeing what kind of tricks he has up his sleeve. — Blake Michael

A person who is keen to shake your hand usually has something up his sleeve. — Alec Guinness

Ulric rushed forward to the pile as soon as the spikes were out of his way. The seneschal's wider frame lumbered with the effort it took him to kneel and he grunted under the strain. Swiping the sleeve of his brown tunic across his forehead, Ulric placed his arm before his nose as he leaned closer to the pelts.
Impatient, Vladamir watched Ulric pick through the skins. He followed silently behind, refusing to sheath his sword. The seneschal sat straight up in surprise.
"M'lord, it would appear to be a maiden amongst these pelts. Methinks I see the entrails of a rabbit in her hair," Ulric yelled through the sleeve of his tunic. — Michelle M. Pillow

He walked up to me with his heart on his sleeve,
Asking, 'Where'd we go wrong on the way?
For I've wandered this city and oh its a pity,
They talk but have nothing to say,"

I told him that's true about cities like ours;
Cities of footsteps and phones.
It could be only me and the wild open sea,
And I still wouldn't fee as alone. — Emily Hanson

Jason knew his life would never be the same again. British intelligence now had an ace up their sleeve, and Jason had to overcome his fears and deal with the secret world he was now a part of.
He would have to grow a tough shell around himself. Despite his many friends, his grandparents and love of his father, he was painfully aware he was very much alone in this world. When it came down to it, there was only one person he could really rely on in the world,
and he was called Jason Steed. — Mark A. Cooper

In my book "Sound Unbound" we traced the guy who actually came up with the main concept for the graphic design of the record cover sleeve. His name is Alex Steinweiss. And one of the things in my book that we really tried to figure out was the revolution in graphic design that occurred when people put images on album covers. — DJ Spooky

To sacrifice a hair of the head of your vision, a shade of its colour, in deference to some Headmaster with a silver pot in his hand or to some professor with a measuring-rod up his sleeve, is the most abject treach ery, and the sacrifice of wealth and chastity which used to be said to be the greatest of human disasters, a mere flea-bite in comparison. — Virginia Woolf

Catholics and Protestants are fighting with one another ... while the enemy of Aryan humanity and all Christendom is laughing up his sleeve. — Adolf Hitler

Man was made to lead with his chin; he is worth knowing only with his guard down, his head up and his heart rampant on his sleeve. — Robert Farrar Capon

The tin-sheep and wooden-melon proletariat produced their papers and named their places of work. The madman with the white beard plucked at the sleeve of the policemen, opened up his folded handkerchief, and said: professor of philosophy. — Herta Muller

The world is one unending chess match, my dear, and I am the one playing it how I please. I poke and prod to move my pieces to places I find desirable. And the defiant ones who resist me I simply remove from the board." He pulled up his right sleeve, showing Laura a sheathed dagger strapped to his arm. "But you, Laura, are not of this chess match at all. You walked unexpectedly onto my board, scattering my pieces out of the way, the ones that I had worked on so tirelessly to arrange to perfection. — J.S. Bailey

I was feverish; I couldn't keep down food. Orma stayed by me the entire time, and I suffered the illusion that behind his skin - behind everyone's - was a hollow nothingness, an inky black void. He rolled up my sleeve to look at my arm, and I shrieked, believing he would peel back my skin and see the emptiness beneath it. — Rachel Hartman

God always has another custard pie up his sleeve. — Lynn Redgrave

God and religion before every thing!' Dante cried. 'God and religion before the world.'
Mr Casey raised his clenched fist and brought it down on the table with a crash.
'Very well then,' he shouted hoarsely, 'if it comes to that, no God for Ireland!'
'John! John!' cried Mr Dedalus, seizing his guest by the coat sleeve.
Dante stared across the table, her cheeks shaking. Mr Casey struggled up from his chair and bent across the table towards her, scraping the air from before his eyes with one hand as though he were tearing aside a cobweb.
'No God for Ireland!' he cried, 'We have had too much God in Ireland. Away with God! — James Joyce

Kaylee giggled as he tunneled up inside her sleeve.
Out popped his head for a quick look, then he took leave.
He enjoyed scaling up, down and around her shirt.
What a sweet, funny and adorable flirt. — Melinda K. Trotter