Wiping Away Quotes & Sayings

Hope is hugging me, holding me in its arms, wiping away my tears and telling me that today and tomorrow and two days from now I will be just fine and I'm so delirious I actually dare to believe it. — Tahereh Mafi

You've already made me cry countless times." I raised my middle finger to him slowly, and asked, "Do you know what this is?" I took my middle finger and patted the corner of my eye with it. "It's me, wiping away the last tear you'll ever get. — Penelope Douglas

Forgiving is one of the most difficult things for a human being to do, but I think it means looking at some slight you feel, putting yourself in the position of the other person, and wiping away any sort of resentment and antagonism you feel toward them. Then let that other person know that everything is perfectly friendly and normal between you. — Jimmy Carter

Love is an afternoon of fishing when I'd sooner be at the ballet.
Love is eating burnt toast and lumpy graving with a big smile.
Love is hearing the words 'You're beautiful' as I fail to squeeze into my fat jeans.
Love is refusing to bring up the past, even if doing so would be a slam dunk to prove your point.
Love is your hand wiping away my tears, trying to erase streaks of mascara.
Love is the warm hug that extinguishes an argument.
Love is a humbly-uttered apology, even if not at fault.
Love is easy to recognize but so hard to define; however, I think it boils down to this ...
Love is caring so much about the feelings of someone else, you sacrifice whatever it takes to help him or her feel better.
In other words, love is my heart being sensitive to yours. — Richelle E. Goodrich

I once watched a natural dam break on television. I remember seeing a scenic picture of a river surrounded by trees. All of the sudden, the trees disappeared
sucked away by the collapse of the riverbank. A swell of angry water rushed around the corner wiping out everything in its path. It was sudden, and it was violent.
I see the dam break in Caleb's eyes. — Tarryn Fisher

This isn't coffee," I accused immediately as the rich smell of chocolate met my nose, making me almost want to groan. Okay, I totally wanted to groan. Just not in front of him. Fine, I absolutely wanted to groan in front of him. But in a private setting with his hands and mouth all over me.

"Figured you needed a pick-me-up."

"You told me you wouldn't give me something like this again. Not even if I begged," I reminded him.

"Well, it's made with water, not full-fat milk and there is only a tiny bit of whipped cream," he said, casual as could be. Which was why I took a sip as he leaned across the counter toward me, not thinking anything of it. Until he went ahead and added in a voice low enough that only the two of us could hear, "And the next time you beg me for something, Maddy, it's gonna be my cock."

I nearly choked to death.

And he just casually walked away, wiping the counter. — Jessica Gadziala

Historians like a quiet life, and usually they get it. For the most part, history moves at a deliberate pace, working its changes subtly and incrementally. Nations and their institutions harden into shape or crumble away like sediment carried by the flow of a sluggish river. English history in particular seems the work of a temperate community, seldom shaken by convulsions. But there are moments when history is unsubtle; when change arrives in a violent rush, decisive, bloody, traumatic; as a truck-load of trouble, wiping out everything that gives a culture its bearings - custom, language, law, loyalty. 1066 was one of those moments. — Simon Schama

I read the last Harry Potter, and I cried for at least the last 70 pages. Awful! I was curled into a ball and I just kept sobbing. It was embarrassing. I was loud, and I just kept wiping tears away so I could see the page. — Jesmyn Ward

My greatest enemies are Women and the Sea. These things I hate. Women because they are weak and stupid and live in the shadow of men and are nothing compared to them, and the Sea because it has always frustrated me, destroying what I have built, washing away what I have left, wiping clean the marks I have made. — Iain Banks

Why are you still so damned protective of me?:
"You have to ask?"
"I do."
Mick came closer still, until his face hung an inch from mine. "If you have to ask, then you wouldn't believe my answer." He drew away and continued wiping my hands. — Allyson James

Without wiping away the tears, taking a deep breath, or even bending his knees - he leaped. For now he knew what Shalimar knew: If you surrendered to the wind, you could ride it. — Toni Morrison

You're a fairy princess beaming at me, remaking the world in your image. Wiping away everything that hurts. But someday everything that hurts will come back and kill you. — Sarah McCarry

He ran the back of his hand up her cheek, with the pretense of wiping away sweat. Do you think you could ever love me?
I don't think so.
Because I'm not good enough.
It's not like that.
Because I'm not smart.
No.
Because you couldn't love me.
Because I couldn't love you. — Jonathan Safran Foer

Most people die, living their life paycheck to paycheck,trying to stretch out each dollar, as like a roll of toilet paper. Toiling each tissue, never quite wiping away all the shit from their asses, where the world always takes what little they flush, back into its deprived system, always hungry. — Anthony Liccione

I grinned at Jessica James's backside as she walked away because she had a big old brown grease stain on the left side of her skirt where I'd palmed her ass.
"Damn, Duane, you got big hands."Cletus sauntered up next to me, wiping his own hands on a rag.
My grin became a frown and I shot my brother a look. "Don't be looking at Jess's ass."
I'm not looking at her ass. I remind you sir, she is my calculus teacher." Cletus lifted his chin toward Jessica's departing form. "I'm looking at the palm print on her ass. — Penny Reid

The wall clock and her wristwatch had stopped, their sweep hands no longer wiping away the seconds, and the digital clock on the microwave had gone dark, as if something that lived outside of time had stepped into this world and brought its clockless ambiance with it. — Dean Koontz

Season of Miracles is a triumphant story with a heart of gold. Laced with wit and wisdom, the story had me chuckling out loud one minute and wiping away tears the next. Highly recommended! — Deborah Raney

Thank you," he was whispering, "thank you, thank you. ... " And then he was kissing my face, every inch of it he could find, wiping away the tears and soot, chanting my name. — Alexandra Bracken

The report was so loud Nicholas thought the guard had fired into his head. He staggered as the man's grip fell away, his hand going to his cheek. He felt the warm wetness of blood, but it wasn't his. He looked for the Gardier and saw him sprawled on the ground, one neat bullet hole in his forehead. He straightened up, reaching for a handkerchief until he remembered the damn uniform jacket had no pockets. Wiping the blood away with his hand, he said under his breath, "I knew emphasizing firearms training over deportment lessons would benefit in the long run."
His daughter moved toward him, lowering the pistol, staring. — Martha Wells

So I think we should stay focused on the real problem in the Middle East. It's not Israel. It's these dictatorships that are developing nuclear weapons with the specific goal of wiping Israel away. — Benjamin Netanyahu

Silly that a grocery should depress one - nothing in it but trifling domestic doings - women buying beans - riding children in those grocery go-carts - higgling about an eighth of a pound more or less of squash - what did they get out of it? Miss Willerton wondered. Where was there any chance for self-expression, for creation, for art? All around her it was the same - sidewalks full of people scurrying about with their hands full of little packages and their minds full of little packages - that woman there with the child on the leash, pulling him, jerking him, dragging him away from a window with a jack-o'-lantern in it; she would probably be pulling and jerking him the rest of her life. And there was another, dropping a shopping bag all over the street, and another wiping a child's nose, and up the street an old woman was coming with three grandchildren jumping all over her, and behind them was a couple walking too close for refinement. — Flannery O'Connor

Hesitantly, she walked to the bathroom door that he'd left partially open. He stood in front of the sink, wiping the blood away with a washcloth.
"What are you going to do with me?"
His hand paused under his chin and he met her gaze in the mirror.
The hatred in the dark stare chilled her all the way to her soul. "I don't know," he said at last. "I've never had anyone stupid enough to break into my house."
-Shahara & Syn — Sherrilyn Kenyon

Memories do not change, and change is the law of existence. If our dead, the closest, the most beloved, were to return to us after a long absence and instead of the old, familiar trees were to find in our souls English gardens and stone walls
that is to say, other loves, other tastes, other interests, they would gaze upon us sadly and tenderly for a moment, wiping away their tears, and then return to their tombs to rest. — Teresa De La Parra

He turned to stare down at his latte, wiping hard at his cheeks as the tears started to fall. He didn't push away the pain. It was his and he would own it. He wouldn't bury it again. — Suzanne Young

A society notorious for effacing the boundary which once separated the private from the public, for making it a public virtue and obligation to publicly expose the private, and for wiping away from public communication anything that resists being reduced to private confidences, together with those who refuse to confide them. — Zygmunt Bauman

We can see the Divine in each speck of dust, but that doesn't stop us from wiping it away with a wet sponge. The Divine doesn't disappear; it's transformed into the clean surface. — Paulo Coelho

You're okay," Zane said quietly but clearly. "Just focus on me for a few minutes. What's the first thing that comes to mind?" While talking, he was gently wiping away the blood. Ty blinked at him, opening his mouth as he thought the very first thing that came to mind when Zane prompted him. I love you. He snapped his mouth closed and stared at Zane, unable and unwilling to answer. — Abigail Roux

A strange, ever-changing female scent hit him, and Aedion found Lysandra leaning against the hallway door. Tears gleamed in her eyes even as she smiled.
She gazed at the closed bedroom door, as if she could still see the prince and queen inside. "That," she said, more to herself than to him. "That is what I am going to find one day."
"A gorgeous Fae warrior?" Aedion said, shifting a bit.
Lysandra chuckled, wiping away her tears, and gave him a knowing look before walking away. — Sarah J. Maas

I opened my mouth. My tongue wouldn't form words. I had so much to say. I took a bite of spaghetti. Time passed. When she stopped speaking, her eyes were wet. She wasn't crying, but her eyes were full. Full of eighteen years of what someone had taken from her. I smiled and stood. I looked away. I ran my fingers through my hair. As I carried my plate to the sink she raised her hand to her face. Wiping eighteen years of love from her eyes, she spoke, "I love you Marc. — Scott Hildreth

Oh, listen. Listen!' A sound like a big crowd a good way off, excited and shouting, getting closer. We stand up and scan the empty sky. Suddenly there they are (the geese), a wavering V headed directly over the hilltop, quite low, beating southward down the central flyway and talking as they pass. We stay quiet suspending our human conversation until their garulity fades and their wavering lines are invisible in the sky.
They have passed over us like an eraser over a blackboard, wiping away whatever was there before they came. — Wallace Stegner

The world is full of interiors that bleach the spirit. Hospitals, police stations, job centres, local government offices and prisons all have their own subtle type of vampire colour scheme and black-hole furnishing, capable by accident or design of wiping away a person's self-esteem and will to resist, like boiled-over soup off a ceramic hob. — Tom Holt

We had no compunction toward our enemies [the ants] and took to increasingly desperate and violent means of dealing with them. If we noticed they'd laid siege to a snack, we might trap them in a circle drawn with water and take away whatever they were eating, then watch them scurry about in confusion before wiping them off the floor with a wet cloth. I took pleasure in seeing them shrivel into black points when burning coals were rolled over them. When they attacked an unwashed pan or cup they'd soon be mercilessly drowned. I suppose initially each of us did these things only when we were alone, but in time, we began to be openly cruel. We came around to Amma's view of them as demons come to swallow our home and became a family that took pleasure in their destruction. We might have changed houses since, but habits are harder to change. — Vivek Shanbhag

We made love for a long time, and he whispered how much he'd missed me, and how beautiful I was, and how lucky he felt that we were together. And though I felt all those things, no words came out of my mouth. The feel of his body was taking my breath away, but that wasn't the reason I didn't say anything. At this moment, I felt as if I was in a dream, and I never wanted it to end. I wanted to feel him and touch him and hear him breathe and look in his eyes, and there wasn't one word I could say thatwouldn't take away from the overwhelming sense of passion I was feeling at this very moment. "Are you okay?" Drew asked me. "Yeah, why?" I whispered. "Because you're crying," he said, wiping tears from my eyes. "No, I'm not." He gave me a gentle smile. "Yes, you are. Tell me why." I looked into his eyes so directly that I almost felt like I was trying to look into his soul. And then I whispered, "I love you," and I realized that for the first time in my life, I actually meant it. — Jackie Pilossoph

Thank you," he said softly, pulling back and wiping away a stray tear on my cheek.
"For what?"
"For withstanding the heat. For fighting for your life. Because without you, everything in my life would be cold. — Cambria Hebert

But when I am around strangers, I turn into a conversational Mount St. Helens. I'm dormant, dormant, quiet, quiet, old-guy loners build log cabins on the slopes of my silence and then, boom, it's 1980. Once I erupt, they'll be wiping my verbal ashes off their windshields as far away as North Dakota. — Sarah Vowell

Is there n-nothing you can do?" Parmida asked, wiping her tears away with the heel of her hand.
The unicorn laughed softly. "She asks for a boon after shooting me in the ass. — Ash Gray

The pastor should always be pure in thought ... no impurity ought to pollute him who has undertaken the office of wiping away the stains in the hearts of others ... for the hand that would cleanse from dirt must be clean, lest, being itself sordid with clinging mire, it soil whatever it touches all the more. — Pope Gregory I

He becomes a thief, wiping away my tears with the back of his hand, trying to steal my sorrow from me. — Amy A. Bartol

Outside, the ocean was crashing, waves hitting sand, then pulling back to sea. I thought of everything being washed away, again and again. We make such messes in this life, both accidentally and on purpose. But wiping the surface clean doesn't really make anything neater. It just masks what is below. It's only when you really dig down deep, go underground, that you can see who you really are. — Sarah Dessen

At first they hadn't been so bad, but little by little ... his daddy thought about drinking a lot more. Sometimes he was angry at Mommy and didn't know why. He went around wiping his lips with his handkerchief and his eyes were far away and cloudy. — Stephen King

This was an act of love, pure and simple. And by taking her so slowly and gently, Merrick was wiping away all the earlier, bad memories she had of this act. Wiping them away and replacing them with beautiful memories, feelings of love and trust instead of hurt and terror and betrayal. There was no room for bad emotions here
there was only the bliss of being one with her man and it was the best feeling Elise had ever known. — Evangeline Anderson

He says nothing. Not because he disagrees, or disapproves, but because he's crying. Faintly I hear my father sniffling and wiping away tears, and I know he's proud, just incapable of expressing it. I can't fault the man for not knowing how to say what's in his heart. It's the family curse. — Andre Agassi

Daffy had stopped talking, without her noticing. It was if he'd run out of words. He did a peculiar thing, then; he reached out and touched Mary's cheekbone; lightly, as if he was brushing away a speck of coal dust. She thought of Doll, that first morning, wiping mud out of the lost child's eyes. Her throat hurt, all at once, as if she were swallowing a stone. She wished the two of them could stay forever frozen in this moment, hidden in the grass, as the setting sun slid across the fields of Monmouth. Before any asking, any refusal. While this strange, tame young man was still looking at her as is she were worth any price. — Emma Donoghue

And stop grabbing my bra."
"Huh?" Matthias looked down at the lingerie in his hands. His eyes bugged.
"Ahhh!" He tossed it in the air and vigorously wiped his palms. Blake caught the under garment. "Oh, yeah."
"Blake!" we all yelled. "Give it back!" Ayden reached for it, but at the last minute pushed a hand through his hair and looked away.
"To Aurora." Tristan stared at the floor. Logan had his shirt pulled up to his forehead. Matthias kept wiping his hands on his jeans.
A & E Kirk (2014-05-26). Drop Dead Demons: The Divinicus Nex Chronicles: Book 2 (Divinicus Nex Chronicles series) (p. 472). A&E Kirk. Kindle Edition. — A&E Kirk

My dad died, I write. almost a year ago. Car accident. My hand is shaking; my eyes sting and fill. I add Not his fault before pushing the notebook and pen back across the table, wiping a hand across my cheeks.
As he reads, my impulse is to reach out, grab the notebook, run outside, dump it in the trash, bury it in the snow, throw it under the wheels of a passing car - something, something, so I can go back fifteen seconds when this part ofme was still shut away and private. Then I look at Ravi's face again, and the normally white white whites of his eyes are pink. This causes major disruption to my ability to control the flow of my own tears. I see myself when I look at him right now: he's reflecting my sadness, my broken heart, back to me.
He takes the pe, writes, and slides it over. You'd think it's something epic from the way it levels my heart. It isn't.
I'm really sorry, Jill.
Four little words. — Sara Zarr

Instead of wiping away your tears, wipe the people who make you cry. — Tyga

Jimi on the box, thirty stories up, everything immediate, yet distanced. Jimi's chords locked in aerial dogfights, gliding, riding, sliding, hiding, belligerent bursts, hallucinogenic, a head-warping face-wiping mind melt, chords live dive bombers screaming in for the kill, scintillating, serrated chords shot through with arc-light shrieks of staccato mayhem, as immediate and horrific as the firefight racketing away this very second below our red and puffy eyes; chords that hang in the air like the retinal reflection of an eerie afterburn, the stars displaced and the smell of a world that burned. Overhead, night birds flying, Huey, Apache, Chinook, whooshing with murderous potential. And over everything - every apocalyptic bang, boom, and rattle - Jimi, bleating like Braxton and bonding with the bombast. — Roger Steffens

But George turned Simon's assumptions on their head on a daily basis. As he was doing right at this moment, wiping away something that looked suspiciously like a tear.
"Are you ... Crying?" Simon asked, Incredulous.
"Of course not." George gave his eyes another furious wipe. "Well, in my defense," he added, sounding only slightly abashed, "death is a terrible thing."
"It's a dead rat," Simon pointed out. "A dead rat in Your Shoe, I might add. — Cassandra Clare

To keep our hand on the plow while wiping away our tears
THAT is Christianity! — Watchman Nee

Una furtiva lacrima had been the only really beautiful thing in her life. Wiping away her own tears she tried to sing what she heard. But her voice was as crude and out of tune as she was. When she heard it she started to cry. It was the first time she'd ever cried, she didn't know she had so much water in her eyes. She cried, blew her nose no longer knowing what she was crying about. She wasn't crying because of the life she led: because, never having led any other, she'd accepted that with her that was just the way things were. But I also think she was crying because, through the music, she might have guessed there were other ways of feeling, there were more delicate existences and even a certain luxury of soul. — Clarice Lispector

Sorry." I sniffed again, wiping the corner of my eye.
"Why are you apologizing for crying?"
"Because it's weak."
He scoffed. "Showing emotion is a sign of strength, Harper. Too many people hide how they feel."
"Why do you think that is?"
"Because they're scared of the consequences of showing how they feel," he whispered, looking away. — Shaye Evans

Jenna nodded, wiping tears away with the back of her hand. She leaned toward David and they hugged again. "I was never okay with losing you," she said quietly. "You know that, right? — Melissa J. Morgan

Movement from Brenda grabbed Thomas's attention. He looked to see her drop the knife away from Minho and step back, absently wiping the small trace of blood there on her pants. "I really would've killed you, ya know," she said in a slightly scratchy voice. Almost husky. "Charge Jorge again and I'll sever an artery."
Minho wiped at his small wound with his thumb, then looked at the bright red smear. "That's one sharp knife. Makes me like you more. — James Dashner

For a moment the image before us is frozen: our world, our lives, reduced to a handful broken stars half lost in uncharted space. Then it's gone, the view swallowed by the hyperspace winds streaming past, blue-green auroras wiping the after-images away.
Until all that's left is us — Amie Kaufman

Why are you wailing away? What is the matter with you?"
"I was playing and - " and her lip quivered as she spoke, " - and it was cloudy, and then - " a sniff, " - and then, as I was playing, the sun came out."
I gave her a flat look. "You're crying because the sun came out?"
"Yes," she moped, wiping the tears from her eyes, "the sun came out, and now - " she heaved, " - and now, it's hot! I don't like it when it's hot. Being hot is dumb!"
I immediately absolved her of all previous sins. I slumped over the sill and gave her as much sympathy as my now warm face allowed. "Yes, child, being hot is very dumb indeed. Very well, you have a reason for crying. But then why are you outside?"
"Because it was too hot inside and mommy won't let me have ice cream."
"Well, there is your problem. You must get an air conditioner and a new mother. — Michelle Franklin

I may not have wings, but my hands do a better job in wiping away the tears anyway. — Hillary Wen, Hildy Wen

Founders Day tradition dictated a peck on the cheek, but Travis had never been a follower. He lowered his head and took advantage of her surprise. Her lips were soft as a rose petal and just as pliable. He'd meant it to be a quick, comforting brushing of lips, but then she responded. Just the faintest movement. The yielding lit a fire in his belly that wouldn't be extinguished anytime soon. He went back for seconds. I've missed you so much. He took her face in his hands, wanted to thread his fingers through that long thick hair and pull her closer. But then two palms planted into his chest and pushed hard. Her eyes spat sparks. She dragged the back of her hand across her lips as if wiping the kiss away. Won't be as easy as that, darlin'. — Denise Hunter

I don't cry to get my way," I defended my emotional inabilities, and then began wiping away the tears. "It's just this is really hard."
"Annalisa, if I thought for one second that the tears were fake, you wouldn't sway me. But, I've never seen so many honest tears in my life. — Lindsay Delagair

Honour looked so much like a child herself, confined to bed, a white nightgown, like one of those maudlin Victorian dolls. Her cheeks were red, like someone had painted them, but I knew it was from rubbing, wiping away her melancholy. — Ruth Ahmed