Waist And Feet Quotes & Sayings

Before Tessa could answer, there was a knock at the door, and a familiar voice. "It's Jem. Tessa, are you there?"
Charlotte sat bolt upright. "Oh! He mustn't see you in your dress!"
Tessa stood dumbfounded. "Whyever not?"
"It's a Shadowhunter custom - bad luck!" Charlotte rose to her feet. "Quickly! Hide behind the wardrobe!"
"The wardrobe? But - " Tessa broke off with a yelp as Charlotte seized her about the waist and frog-marched her behind the wardrobe like a policeman with a particularly resistant criminal. Released, Tessa dusted off her dress and made a face at Charlotte, and they both peeked around the side of the furniture as the seamstress, after a bewildered look, opened the door.
Jem's silvery head appeared in the gap. He looked a bit disheveled, his jacket askew. He glanced around in puzzlement before his gaze lighted on Charlotte and Tessa, half-concealed behind the wardrobe. — Cassandra Clare

They cuffed his hands, his arms, his waist, and his feet! Like as if he was resisting! He wasn't! — Jenny Rodriguez

Near my feet is a glowing archway. The light is white and shimmery, like iridescent glitter, and it's so tall the top nearly brushes the ceiling. Inside, instead of seeing the cement wall of the basement, I'm looking at evenly spaced wooden pillars and a reed-mat floor. Standing on that mat is a woman with curves that would make a Playboy model jealous. She's wearing a long, butter yellow dress, and her white hair hangs down to her waist. She looks like an angel when she smiles at me, holding out her hands.
"Hudson, come with me." Her voice reminds me of the breeze rustling through the trees near the lake. Soft and subtle and calming. "Let me help you."
Did I die? Maybe the scratch on my side got infected. Maybe I've been slowly bleeding to death from internal injuries for the past week. Who knows? If this is death, if she's what's waiting for me on the other side, then fuck it. I'm letting go. — Erica Cameron

The ground went out from under her. She sucked in a breath, flailing for balance. Arms came around her waist from behind, jerking her back, keeping her feet in the air.
She fought, feeling his chest at her back, but he was too strong.
"Damn it," he said, his voice strained. "Do you want to go in the water?"
That forced her still. Red and white lights still hung in the distance, warring with the stars. Now that she wasn't running the sound of waves hitting the rocks was unmistakable.
And right in front of her.
"The water?" she said numbly.
He put her feet on the ground, but he didn't let her go. "Yeah. Water. Did you miss the part where I said we're parked on a peninsula? — Brigid Kemmerer

A Ripple Song

Once a ripple came to land
In the sunset burning-
Lapped against a maiden's hand,
By the ford returning.

Dainty foot and gentle breast-
Here, across, be glad and rest.
"Maiden, wait," the ripple saith
"Wait awhile, for I am Death!"

'Where my lover calls I go-
Shame it were to treat him coldly-
'Twas a fish that circled so,
Turning over boldly.'

Dainty foot and tender heart,
Wait the loaded ferry-cart.
"Wait, ah, wait!" the ripple saith;
"Maiden, wait, for I am Death!"

'When my lover calls I haste-
Dame Disdain was never wedded!'
Ripple-ripple round her waist,
Clear the current eddied.

Foolish heart and faithful hand,
Little feet that touched no land.
Far away the ripple sped,
Ripple-ripple-running red! — Rudyard Kipling

Suddenly Lord Thornbeck rode straight up beside her and grabbed the reins. "Hold on to me!" While Lord Thornbeck forcefully pulled back on the reins and leaned on the horse's neck, Avelina clutched Lord Thornbeck's shoulders. His arm encircled her waist as he lifted her out of the saddle. He held her tight against his side until the stable workers were able to take the reins. Then he lowered her. Her feet touched the ground and her knees crumpled. — Melanie Dickerson

He wriggled his fingers in a come-closer gesture. Cinderella minced over to him. "What," she started, "do you want - put me down!" He'd picked her up by her waist. "What are you doing?" she hissed as Colonel Friedrich climbed the crate. "Helping you break the law. Can you reach the ledge?" Held higher, the ledge was shoulder-height. "Yes," Cinderella said, scrambling to grasp the ledge. She set her feet against the exterior wall and tried to climb in. She shrieked when he pushed against her backside - boosting her up. He'd actually touched her posterior! "Sir! This is highly improper!" Colonel Friedrich chuckled. Cinderella purposely booted him in the neck before she squirmed through the window, falling inside. — K.M. Shea

Very gently Jacques lowered her feet to the ground, retaining possession of her waist to help her trembling legs hold her up. Shea raised a hand to push back her rain-slick hair. He caught her fingers and raised her palm to his mouth. "You are the most beautiful sight I have ever seen."
She smiled, shook her head at him. "You're crazy, you know that? This is one of the most magnificent lightning storms I've ever seen, and I didn't even notice until now."
He grinned at her suggestively, rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Says something."
"Exactly," she agreed. "You're crazy, and I must be, too. — Christine Feehan

Snuggle up with a hot fireman! Meet Tanner West.
Sharon looked up into the most gorgeous face she had ever seen. Eyes like dark chocolate, deep and warm, stared out at her from a face that looked like it could have been chiseled in stone. Skin the color of burnished copper, high cheekbones, a sharp nose, full lips, and a cleft chin. How the hell had she failed to notice him before? Her heart skipped a beat and she ran her gaze down the rest of his body. He was tall, well over six feet, she would guess, with broad shoulders that tapered into a trim waist. His thighs, encased in worn denim, fit like a second skin against legs the size of tree trunks, and oh my, what lay between those thighs ... Her attention snapped back to his face and she could feel the heat of a blush suffuse her skin. — Tamara Hoffa

Had she not created even him? Perhaps for that he never forgave her, but hated her and fought her secretly, and dominated her and oppressed her and kept her locked in houses and her feet bound and her waist tied, and forbade her wages and skills and learning, and widowed her when she was dead, and burned her sometimes to ashes, pretending that it was her faithfulness that did it. — Pearl S. Buck

Finnikin met her eyes, wanting desperately to make sense of her request. Why Pietrodore? But in a moment the realization hit, and he smiled in wonder. "It's not chance, Trevanion," he said, kicking the golden carpet of leaves at his feet. He ran back toward her, sliding part of the way until he could grab her by the waist and swing her around. "You are a goddess, Evanjalin of the Monts. — Melina Marchetta

As long as you smile, have sparkly eyes and stick your shoulders back, nobody's going to notice your bum or your waist or your feet, for that matter. — Cat Deeley

Um, Bella? You've got a huge cut on your forehead, and it's gushing blood," he informed me.
I clapped my hand over my head. Sure enough, it was wet and sticky. I could smell nothing but the damp moss on my face, and that held off the nausea.
Oh, I'm so sorry, Jacob." I pushed hard against the gash, as if I could force the blood back inside my head.
Why are you apologizing for bleeding?" he wondered as he wrapped a long arm around my waist and and pulled me to my feet. — Stephenie Meyer

Tread lightly, little one." He warned. "You don't want to push me. Not tonight." Her eyes darkened with anger, narrowing as she met his gaze. "Really? And why is that Raj?" ... "I am tired of you thinking you have the right to control me. You are not my boyfriend, and you sure as hell are not my keeper, so from where I stand, you've got no claim on me what so ever. Like the song says, you don't want me for yourself so let me find someone else. It's shit or get off the pot time, Raj. It's now or never, Time to-" She gave a shriek as Raj swung an arm around her waist and lifted her off her feet. He threaded the fingers of one hand through her hair and pulled it aside, freeing the long line of her neck. "Then I choose now," he growled and sank his fangs into the velvet skin of her neck puncturing the fragile walls of her jugular. — D.B. Reynolds

In two easy strides, I reach her, weave my arms around her waist and lift her feet off the ground. My angel is so light she practically floats. "Isaiah! You're crazy!"
"Insane," I answer.
She rests her forehead against mine and braids her hands tightly on my neck. "That was close. He almost got you in the end."
I love the sensation of her body against mine. Tonight, I'm going to kiss her again and, if she'll let me, I'll explore a little further. "Were you doubting me?"
She smiles when she notices the lightness in my voice. "Never."
That's right, angel. I'll never let you down. — Katie McGarry

Travis came up behind her, his hat brim bumping her head as he nuzzled her neck. She giggled and danced away, feeling playful yet oddly shy at the same time. Travis gave chase, his husky laughter blending with hers as the two of them darted out of the barn. When they neared the porch, he grabbed her about the waist and lifted her off her feet. Meredith squealed. "You can't escape me," Travis murmured in her ear as he gently settled her back on the ground. Meredith turned in his arms to face the man she loved. "I've no desire to." His eyes darkened, and for a moment she thought he would kiss her. But then he scooped her into his arms and carried her up the porch steps. The front door proved more of a challenge to conquer. Travis had to juggle his hold on her a bit before he could get the latch open. Meredith laughed in delight, endeared by his awkward efforts. Once the door was cracked, he kicked it wide with his boot and carried her over the threshold. "Welcome home, Mrs. Archer. — Karen Witemeyer

Seth stood about six feet eight inches tall with broad shoulders, a leanly muscled form, beautiful patrician features, and long wavy black hair (drawn back with a leather tie) that reached his waist. David stood about six feet seven inches with equally broad shoulders, a bit more muscle, the face of a pharaoh, flawless skin as dark as midnight, and pencil-thin dreadlocks that fell to his hips. — Dianne Duvall

It is our custom
to consume
the person we love.
Taboo flesh: swollen
genitalia nipples
the scrotum the vulva
the soles of the feet
the palm of the hand
heart and liver taste best.
Cannibalism is blessed.

I'll wear your jawbone
round my neck
listen to your vertebrae
bone tapping bone in my wrists.
I'll string your fingers round my waist -
what a rigorous embrace.
Over my heart I'll wear
a brooch with a lock of hair.
Nights I'll sleep cradling
your skull sharpening
my teeth on your toothless grin.

Sundays there's Mass and communion
and I'll put your relics to rest. — Gloria E. Anzaldua

I just did an arc with Warren Ellis - and no one else on the planet could get away with this, because I think this is like harassment? - But Warren felt like there was a depiction of Spider-Woman where it looked like her waist perhaps didn't contain any internal organs. And he suggested very quietly ... 'You should fix that, or else I will come to your house and nail your feet to the floor and set your house on fire.' ... And it totally got fixed! — Kelly Sue DeConnick

The Lord ate from a common bowl, and asked the disciples to sit on the grass. He washed their feet, with a towel wrapped around His waist - He, who is the Lord of the universe! — Clement Of Alexandria

Since God has descended to us in swaddling clothes and in hanging on a cross, we should not consider any calling menial or unimportant. When Christ - the God of the universe - wrapped a towel around his waist to wash his disciples' feet, Calvin observes, he dignified the humblest callings. No one and no service is "beneath us" if it benefits others. — Michael S. Horton

Dance with me."
Blinking, first at his offered palm and then at his features, I asked, "Why?"
Not immediately replying, he reached for me, pulled me to my feet, and slid an arm around my waist. I allowed him to hold my body against his, fit our hands together, and sway to the lovely music. Begrudgingly, I admitted to myself he had great rhythm. Someone had taught him to dance.
Jehtro dipped his mouth to my ear, his beard tickling my neck as he finally whispered an answer to my question, "Because you want me to hold you, but you don't know how to ask. — Penny Reid

There's something different about you," he says.
"I've started styling my hair differently," I laugh.
"Oh. I thought it was that you were three feet taller, a hell of a lot broader, look like a werewolf, and are naked expect for that bit of cloth around your waist. But you're right - it's the hair. — Darren Shan

A long light robe, sulphur-coloured, clung to the sleeper from low throat to ankle; bands of narrow nolana-blue ribbon crossed her breast and were brought together in a loose cincture about her waist; her white, smooth feet were sandalled; one arm was curved beneath her lustrous head; the other lay relaxed and drooping. Chrysoberyls, the sea-virgins of stones, sparkled in her hair and lay in the bosom of her gown like dewdrops in an evening primrose.
("The Accursed Cordonnier") — Bernard Capes

I was jostled, and I pushed back harder, desperate to escape the tumult, when a hand snatched at mine. It was Philip's, and looking over my shoulder I saw his lips move - he said something - but I couldn't hear what. Everything was too loud and too whirling and too hot. I tripped over dancing feet, and then an arm was around my waist, and Philip pulled me out of the dance, where his mother waited with a worried expression. I sat in a chair by a window. Philip leaned over me, looking very worried, and Lady Caroline was there, too, fanning me and asking what had happened. — Julianne Donaldson

Suddenly, the spark became a flame and his mouth was on her, her words swallowed as his hands found her waist and pushed, her feet stumbling, her back - that damn dress - hitting the counter. She tasted of sweet fucking rebellion, her tongue softening, accepting. Then both of her hands were on his chest, and her adorable, tiny knee came up hard between his legs. — Alessandra Torre

She wasn't dressed like a student. She wore an elaborate burgundy dress with long skirts, a tight waist, and matching burgundy gloves that rose all the way to her elbows.
Moving deliberately, she managed to get down off the stool without tangling her feet and made her way over to stand nest to my table. Her blond hair was artfully curled, and her lips were a deeply painted red. I couldn't help wondering what she was doing in a place like Anker's. — Patrick Rothfuss

There was movement along the fringe of Chauncey's vision, and he snapped his head to the left. At first glance what appeared to be a large angel topping a nearby monument rose to full height. Neither stone nor marble, the boy had arms and legs. His torso was naked, his feet were bare, and peasant trousers hung low on his waist. He hopped down from the monument, the ends of his hair dripping rain. It slid down his face, which was dark as a Spaniard's. — Becca Fitzpatrick

You forget your feet when the shoes are comfortable. You forget your waist when the belt is comfortable. Understanding forgets right and wrong when the mind is comfortable. There is no change in what is inside, no following what is outside, when the adjustment to events is comfortable. You begin with what is comfortable and never experience what is uncomfortable when you know the comfort of forgetting what is comfortable. — Zhuangzi

You okay now ?" he asked.
"Okay."
He tightened his arms and lifted me off my feet. "Mercy?" he growled into my ear. I wrapped my legs around his waist. " Yeah" , I said. "Me too. — Patricia Briggs

Adne walked over to Connor, stretched up on her tiptoes, and placed a chaste kiss on his lips. "You're a good man after all."
She smiled sadly, beginning to turn away, but Connor slid his arms around her waist, lifting her off her feet. The kiss he crushed onto her mouth was anything but chaste and lasted so long that soon we all turned away, blushing.
When he finally set her down, his voice was thick. "I give up. I love you, Adne. I am crazy in love with you. — Andrea Cremer

Your curves are not just desired on this planet, they are preferred in a female. And everything from your hair to your waist to your tiny feet makes me want to get on my knees and kiss every inch of your body. Not just that," he said, staring at her mouth. "I can tell you have a fiery spirit, and I like that. Don't tell me the beauty I see isn't there. — Milly Taiden

Tommy grabs my waist and swings me around in a circle. I drag my feet because i am opposed to people touching me when I'm not expecting it. Also because it will take more than dancing to cheer me up. — Maggie Stiefvater

Valten turned and grasped Gisela around the waist to help her down. She placed her hands on his shoulders and he set her on her feet, but slowly. After all, when one has a pleasant task to do, there's no reason to rush it. — Melanie Dickerson

He was only five-foot-ten, but people frequently mistook him for being over six feet, at least in part because his gigantic Afro made him appear larger than life. His thin, angular frame, which was shaped like an inverted triangle, furthered this illusion; he had narrow hips, a small waist, but impossibly wide shoulders and arms. His fingers were abnormally long and sinuous, and like the rest of him, they were a rich caramel color. His bandmates jokingly called him "The Bat" because of his preference for covering his windows and sleeping during the day, but the nickname also fit his penchant for wearing capes, which furthered his superhero appearance. — Charles R. Cross

His hands grasped her waist and lifted her until she could have sworn that his feet had come off the ground, too; that they were floating up above the creek, above the trees, above the burning hillside, into the dense tangle of stars, about to kiss the moon. — Lauren Kate

A bum woke up in the gutter right beside where I stood looking across the street at this place. He felt in the waist of his pants and came up with a pint bottle, half full. He tipped it up and it gurgled steadily until he'd emptied it all down into him. I was only twenty-four or -five but I already knew from experience how it tasted. And people who've kissed the feet of Christ know how it tasted. I saw everything there in the gutter
the terror and the promise. Later I spent the morning in the smoky Day Labor Division with better than a hundred men who'd learned how not to move, learned how to stay beautifully still and let their lives hurt them, white men with gray faces and black men with yellow eyes. I worked the rest of the week in a factory without ever comprehending exactly what was manufactured there, and at night I'd get drunk and shut myself in a phone booth and call the woman in Minnesota who'd broken my heart. — Denis Johnson

I vaguely remember having a waist," Lark said, waddling into the room. "I could see my feet too. They weren't great feet, but I liked looking at them."
"You'll see them soon then you won't appreciate it. All the stuff that bothers you now will become a faint memory once you have the babies."
"How do you know?" she said, teasing me. "You read that in a book? I get enough know-it-all crap from Raven who watched a TV show and is therefore an expert."
I brought her a glass of low fat milk and English muffins with low fat cream. Lark frowned at the food then smiled up at me. "If I sound bitchy, blame the hormones. You didn't know me before I was preggers, but I was a saint."
Grinning, I handed her the remote and placed a pillow under her feet. — Bijou Hunter

If I were just in trousers, somehow I could go out into the world. It would make no difference whether I was naked from the waist up and my feet bare just as long as I had trousers on. Otherwise if you go walking around the streets without trousers, no matter how new your shoes and how elegant your coat, it's enough to raise a big hue and cry. Enlightened society is a kind of trouser society. — Kobo Abe

I stood and went to her side. Taking her hands, I tugged her onto her feet and wrapped my arms around her waist. I lowered my head, brushing my lips across her cheek. "I'm serious about you, Avery. If you want me for real, you have me."
Shortcake pressed her palms to my chest. "I want you for real."
"Good to know." I slanted my lips over hers. "Because, if not, this would get a whole lot awkward. — J. Lynn

He cradled her neck, urging her closer. A bead of sweat trailed down his back. She dug her fingers into his waist, giving him all the invitation he needed to explore her mouth. She tasted salty and sweet. The breath of her sigh danced over his tongue. She untangled their hands and swiveled onto his lap, wrapping her bare legs around him, linking her feet behind his back.

Mon dieu. It was too much - and not nearly enough. — Brynn Kelly

He finally moved, walking those few feet between them. Without hesitation, his hands slid around her waist, pulling her flush against him. Her hand slid up his arm all by itself, grasping the hard muscles there. The warmth that seemed a natural part of him spread into her. Smoothly, his mouth found hers, gently grazing her lips before settling more firmly. She moaned as he tasted her, coaxing her to open for him. When she did, her eyelids fluttered shut and the whole world utterly disappeared. — Dee Tenorio

He shifted his weight, throwing his good leg off the bed as if he were going to try to stand.
"What are you doing?" I demanded through the tears. "Lie down, you idiot, you'll hurt yourself!" I jumped to my feet and pushed his good shoulder down with two hands. He surrendered, leaning back with a gasp of pain, but he grabbed me around my waist and pulled me down on the bed, against his good side. I curled up there, trying to stifle the silly sobs against his hot skin. — Stephenie Meyer

It was a strange figure - like a child: yet not so like a child as like an old man, viewed through some supernatural medium, which gave him the appearance of having receded from the view, and being diminished to a child's proportions. Its hair, which hung about its neck and down its back, was white as if with age; and yet the face had not a wrinkle in it, and the tenderest bloom was on the skin. The arms were very long and muscular; the hands the same, as if its hold were of uncommon strength. Its legs and feet, most delicately formed, were, like those upper members, bare. It wore a tunic of the purest white; and round its waist was bound a lustrous belt, the sheen of which was beautiful. — Charles Dickens

It's the fire in my eyes, And the flash of my teeth, The swing in my waist, And the joy in my feet. I'm a woman Phenomenally. — Maya Angelou

Riley - "Don't worry, there are many safeguards in place. Unless you want me to have Logan explain - "
Trella - "No! I trust you."
He clutched his hands to his chest. "She ... Gasp ... Trusts me! Call for medical aid stat!"
I swung at him, but he grabbed my wrist and pulled me to my feet.
Snaking his arms around my waist, he said, "We need to celebrate this momentous occasion."
"What are we celebrating?" Jacob Ashon, Riley's father, asked from the doorway. — Maria V. Snyder

One morning early, I couldn't sleep, so I walked down to the beach. And I saw you. For a minute- I didn't realize it was you. You were wearing this long scarf thing tied around your waist, lots of wild colors, and it blew around your legs. You had on a red bathing suit under it."
"You ... " She literally had to catch her breath. "You remember what I was wearing?"
"Yes I do. And I remember your hair was longer than it is now, halfway down your back. All those mad curls flying. Bare feet. All that golden skin, wild colors, mad curls. My heart just stopped. I thought: That's the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. And I wanted that woman, in a way I'd never wanted one before."
He stopped, turned a little as she simply stared at him. "Then I saw it was you. You walked off, down the beach, the surf foaming up over your bare feet, your ankles, your calves. And I wanted you. I thought I'd lost my my mind. — Nora Roberts

Somehow she had climbed halfway up his body before he managed to grasp her waist. He plucked her off and set her on her feet.
She started to climb up his body again.
"Are you having fun?" he asked suspiciously.
"We're on the fucking moon!" she shouted. "There's nothing here!"
He stared at her. "I don't think you're having fun."
"No air!"
He shook his head. "Think about that logically. Could you have possibly said those words if there truly was no air? Of course
there's no air or atmosphere outside this bubble - "
"Ofcoursethere'snofuckingairhereorfuckingatmosphereonthefuckinggoddamnMOONyouGODDAMNFUCKINGCRAZYMORONICDJINN ... "
"Grace," he roared in her face. — Thea Harrison