Wrapped Up Warm Quotes & Sayings

When daybreak came we were zooming through New Jersey with the great cloud of Metropolitan New York rising before us in the snowy distance. Dean had a sweater wrapped around his ears to keep warm. He said we were a band of Arabs coming in to blow up New York. — Jack Kerouac

I've named my cookies Snowballs, but not because that's what they look like. It's the way they make you feel. You know how it is when a snowball is flying toward you on an icy-cold night? The stars are glittering, and the snow is twinkling, but you're wrapped up in mittens and boots, so you're toasty warm. It's surprise and comfort, all at the same time; that's how I want them to taste. Do you know what I mean? Here's the recipe: It has chocolate, marshmallows, and pecans in a very buttery batter. — Ruth Reichl

Wesley went everywhere with me from then on. I even wrapped him in baby blankets and held him in my arms while grocery shopping, to keep him warm during the first cold winter. Occasionally someone would ask to see "the baby," and when I opened the blanket, would leap back shrieking, "What is that?! A dinosaur?" Apparently, the world is full of educated adults with mortgages and stock portfolios who think people are walking around grocery stores with dinosaurs in their arms. — Stacey O'Brien

It's like bein' a caterpillar in a cocoon, that's what it is ... Like somethin' asleep wrapped up in a warm place. I always thought Maycomb folks were the best folks in the world, least that's what they seemed like — Harper Lee

His lips are the softest thing about him, warm and gentle, like a slice of heaven wrapped in hell, so worth battling the flames to feel his fire. — J.M. Darhower

(Max) He shook his head impatiently. "You'll be all right. I've got to go. Lora ... " he hesitated, then with a muttered, "Hell!" swooped over her. Before she knew what was happening, he had her pinned back against the seat and his mouth was on hers, hard and hot and almost brutal in its demand. His hand was rough and warm on her breast. Lora's senses exploded. She forgot the men outside the car, her anger with Max, everything as she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back with a hunger that had been building inside her forever ... — Karen Robards

Why couldn't I have spent the last few months like this, wrapped in his arms, drinking in the warm, spicy scent of him? Oh, wait. Cooper was a complete dick to me, that's why. — Molly Harper

The sound was like a gentle breeze of joy on a warm summer day. It wrapped around his senses and his heart. That was the moment, and he knew he'd be telling her about it fifty years from now when she asked him when it was that he knew that he loved her. — Grace Willows

And the way I loved her was like nothing else. This, I decided, was the love all other loves were measured against. They say girls look to marry their fathers, but I decided after having Maxie that we all, every one of us, were looking to marry our mothers. Sitting on the sofa with her wrapped in a soft blanket in my arms, I'd think, 'This baby has it so good.'
It just seemed that the love I'd been searching and hoping for all my life was what Maxie already had right now: two big arms and a lap, a warm blanket, the background music of a heartbeat and a pair of lungs, food at a moment's notice, sleep at every urge, and a person totally obsessed with her, whose every moment - waking or otherwise - was totally devoted to her comfort and care. Was that so much to ask for? — Katherine Center

Oliver's boardroom was actually a library. A good library. A library where books looked worn-out and well read and loved on. The library was two stories tall with a balcony wrapped around the top level. The big window on the top floor was propped half open. A rebel beam of sunlight pushed through the clouds, shining through the rain beads stuck to the screen and glass. And then that strange, golden rain light shone warm and pretty over Oliver's books. I wondered if the sun had missed the books, had waited as long as it possibly cold to shine over those spines again. I knew how that felt, to love a story so much you didn't just want to read it, you wanted to feel it. — Natalie Lloyd

For Peter, being with Greta was like being wrapped in a warm towel after emerging cold and shivering from the ocean. — Molly Ringwald

She wrapped herself up in an enigma; there was no other way to keep warm. — Karen Elizabeth Gordon

I used to think death might be hidden somewhere on our bodies.
Tucked behind the pupil like a coin, slid beneath the thumb nail, ribbon-wrapped around a wrist bone. A sharp, dark sliver; a loose, pale pellet. Each person different. Each lifespan set. On the day of your death, it melts out through your entire body, a warm, broken bath bead. Until then, it waits-sealed and silent. — Aimee Bender

A warm, ragged breath disturbed the hairs on my forehead, and my blood began pricking as I realized where exactly I had retreated: right into Mr. Braddock, our strange connection humming through the hairsbreadth of distance between our bodies, our faces. I froze, forcing myself to stop shoving against him further. Before I understood anything, a rough, large hand brushed my chin, my face tipped upwards, and his mouth caught mine, and suddenly my entire body was on fire. Whatever odd sensation had thrummed between us before was just the stroke of a violin bow to this clash of an orchestra. I felt the world pass between our lips, tasting champagne, hunger, and something indefinably darker, while his hand ignited sparks down my cheek to the nape of my neck. He wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me closer, forcing that elusive essence to run deeper than my skin, deeper than my veins, until my very bones vibrated. — Tarun Shanker

Zay shrugged one shoulder. "I wouldn't say it was entirely innocent. All that warm, wet water touching us everywhere. And the soap definitely had ulterior motives."
I wrapped the towel around me, tucking it tight at the top. "That career in comedy? Walk away now, Jones. — Devon Monk

If your path had been smooth, you would have depended upon your own surefootedness; but God roughened the path, so you have to take hold of His hand. If the weather had been mild, you would have loitered along the watercourses, but at the first howl of the storm you quickened your pace heavenward and wrapped around you the warm robe of Saviour's righteousness. — Thomas De Witt Talmage

Hannah expected this to make her sob even more, but instead she found her tears drying up and her tummy growing warm. How dare they? How dare they do this to little girls? She understood now why her parents go so angry when they saw the result of bombers in the white hot streets of the Middle East, why men and women wailed in anger as well as grief as they lifted the limp bodies of children from the rubble. How dare they? No, she wasn't going to die like this, wrapped up like some helpless baby. — Stephen M. Irwin

If I hadn't already flown with him, I'd be scared. I'm above the water with nothing but his arms between me and an icy plunge. But his arms are wrapped tightly around me and his chest is warm. I lean my head against his muscular shoulder and close my eyes.
He rubs his cheek against my hair — Susan Ee

Of Scotland, I cherished both the sprawling days of summer, when dusk and dawn were one, and the witching darkness of winter, when I would warm my hands by the hearth while song and company wrapped themselves around me like a cloak against the cold. I loved the height and breadth of the mountains and the mysterious depth of the lochs. — N. Gemini Sasson

All hopes of eternity and all gain from the past he would have given to have her there, to be wrapped warm with him in one blanket, and sleep, only sleep. It seemed the sleep with the woman in his arms was the only necessity. — D.H. Lawrence

Tristan's hand pressed against my back and I felt myself move closer until my head was resting against his warm chest. I closed my eyes and felt its steady rising and falling. I breathed in deeply and wrapped my arms more securely around his neck. The world was suddenly simply cinnamon and sandalwood. I couldn't remember ever feeling quite so content.
All too soon, the song ended. I nearly moaned as Tristan stepped back and caught my arm. "Maybe we should head out."
Maybe people shouldn't move when other people are feeling so...
Oh, whatever. — Renee Carter

I shut my eyes, assaulted by a sudden vision of Bruce and his new girl in his wide, warm bed, his arm wrapped companionably around her, telling my family secrets ... and the new girl would give a wise, professionally compassionate kindergarten-teacher nod, all the while thinking what a freak I must be. — Jennifer Weiner

I reached out blindly, clasped a warm hand, faded from life and into peace.
Well, that was what was supposed to happen ... Except an annoying, distracting tug kept pulling and yanking ...
When I woke, I thought I had overcome the pull and stayed in the afterlife. Whiteness billowed over me in soft waves. My body was cushioned and cocooned in warmth. I stretched my legs and then tried to raise my arms, but my left arm wouldn't budge. Rolling over, I encountered a number of very unpleasant realities.
I was alive. I was in a room. I was naked except for a blood-stained bandage wrapped tight around my stomach. Kerrick lay beside me. And his hand trapped mine.
Kill. Me. Now. — Maria V. Snyder

But my attention's elsewhere, drawn to that warm wonderful pull, the familiar loving essence that only belongs to one person - only belongs to him
Watching as Damen cuts through the water, board tucked under his arm, body so sculpted, so bronzed, Rembrandt would weep. Water sluicing behind him like a hot knife through butter, cleanly, fluidly, as though parting the sea.
My lips part, desperate to speak, to call out his name and bring him back to me. But just as I'm about to, my eyes meet his and I see what he sees: me - hair tangled and wet - clothes twisted and clinging - frolicking in the ocean on a hot sunny day with Jude's tanned strong arms still wrapped around me.
I release myself from Jude's grip, but it's too late. Damen's already seen me.
Already moved on.
Leaving me hollow, breathless, as I watch him retreat.
No tulips, no telepathic message, just a sad, empty void left behind in his place. — Alyson Noel

Oh, please. You're the one whose arms were
wrapped around me," I argued out of habit, folding my arms
with a scowl.
Brent's warm breath touched the clear windows,
steaming them slightly. "You're also the one who kissed me
while in my previously mentioned weakened state. Then
you claimed to not mean it. Tell me, do you take
responsibility for any of your actions? — Lani Woodland

He wondered if he should feel a stab of jealousy - Dimple bonding so well with his muscled, much cooler younger brother - but all he felt was this warm, almost gooey feeling in his chest. Like his heart was wrapped in microwaved Nutella. — Sandhya Menon

Eleanor wrapped her arms around aniel's neck as he lowered her feet to the cold floor. She leaned into him and inhaled his scent - warm and clean with the slightest hing of fireplace smoke - and committed it to memory.
"Don't worry," she said, finally letting him go. "I miss you already. — Tiffany Reisz

She found him standing before the water staring unseeing at its frozen surface. He was shivering. She watched him doubtfully for a moment. 'Po,' she said to his back, where's your coat?'
'Where's yours?'
She moved to stand beside him. 'I'm warm.'
He tilted his head to her. 'If you're warm and I'm coatless, there's only one friendly thing for you to do.'
'Go back and get your coat for you?'
He smiled. Reaching out to her, he pulled her close against him. Katsa wrapped her arms around him, surprised, and tried to rub some warmth into his shivering shoulders and back.
'That's it exactly,' Po said. 'You must keep me warm.'
She laughed and held him tighter. — Kristin Cashore

No worldly mind would ever have suspected that He Who could make the sun warm the earth would one day have need of an ox and an ass to warm Him with their breath; that He Who, in the language of Scriptures, could stop the turning about of Arcturus would have His birthplace dictated by an imperial census; that He, Who clothed the fields with grass, would Himself be naked; that He, from Whose hands came planets and worlds, would one day have tiny arms that were not long enough to touch the huge heads of the cattle; that the feet which trod the everlasting hills would one day be too weak to walk; that the Eternal Word would be dumb; that Omnipotence would be wrapped in swaddling clothes; that Salvation would lie in a manger; that the bird which built the nest would be hatched therein - no one would ever have suspected that God coming to this earth would ever be so helpless. And that is precisely why so many miss Him. Divinity is always where one least expects to find it. — Fulton J. Sheen

Do you trust me?" Tam said it almost too softly to be heard.
I hesitated, sighed, then reached down and took his hand. Tam's fingers wrapped warm and strong around mine. The magic sparked between us, though this time it was warm and tingling, not violent and lustful.
"Though you're the last thing I need," I muttered.
I heard the smile in his voice. "But I'm the first thing you want. — Lisa Shearin

The Love of Self I have never known happiness like this. I feel warm, comforted and wrapped up in a vibration of joy. There is no language that can describe this love. — Alexandra Elle

We might treat a rabbit as a pet or become emotionally attached to a goose, but we had come from cities and supermarkets, where flesh was hygienically distanced from any resemblance to living creatures. A shrink-wrapped pork chop has a sanitized, abstract appearance that has nothing whatever to do with the warm, mucky bulk of a pig. Out here in the country there was no avoiding the direct link between death and dinner. — Peter Mayle

I would revisit them all in the long course of my waking dream: rooms in winter, where on going to bed I would at once bury my head in a nest, built up out of the most diverse materials, the corner of my pillow, the top of my blankets, a piece of a shawl, the edge of my bed, and a copy of an evening paper, all of which things I would contrive, with the infinite patience of birds building their nests, to cement into one whole; rooms where, in a keen frost, I would feel the satisfaction of being shut in from the outer world (like the sea-swallow which builds at the end of a dark tunnel and is kept warm by the surrounding earth), and where, the fire keeping in all night, I would sleep wrapped up. — Marcel Proust

We kissed again. It grew deeper; Alex wrapped his arms around me, drawing me close against him. His back was smooth and warm. I ran my hands over it as we kissed, loving the feel of his skin, and almost went faint as his lips moved briefly to my neck and then found my mouth again. In my entire life, nothing had ever felt as good as Alex kissing me like that. When we finally pulled apart, both our hearts were pounding.
I cleared my throat, skimming my fingers along his forearm. "Alex, you, um ... you know that I've never
"
"I know," he broke in softly. He reached for my hand, linking his fingers through mine. "Willow, it's OK. We'll do whatever you want. I just want to be with you; I don't care. — L.A. Weatherly

Are you okay?"
She looked up, her eyes glistening. "I just ... I ... "
"Hey." He stood up and rounded the picnic table, sitting next to her on the bench. He wrapped his
arm around her, the feeling of her, so warm and female and way too tempting, sending a shock of
pleasure through him. "Hey, don't ... don't do that."
"I'm pregnant. It's a pregnant thing," she said.
"I've never seen you do it."
"I don't often."
"I can tell. — Maisey Yates

He's probably never ridden a horse in his life. He's likely never experienced that moment of euphoria when you and an animal move completely as one, the indescribable sensation of grace and power running through your bones and settling forever in your heart. He probably won't have felt a pony's warm breath on his neck on a cold winter's morning, or run his hand proudly across the soft sheen of a well-groomed coat. And he's surely never rested his head against a pony's warm neck, wrapped his arms around it and closed his eyes, and held on tightly to the one thing in his life that would stay solid and constant and true. So he couldn't understand, not really, but I did. — Kate Lattey

He got up. It was too early to go to bed; at least, he was not in the mood for it. He pined for a bit of amusement - something cheap and easy. A seat in the pictures, cigarettes, beer. Useless! No money to pay for any of them. He would read KING LEAR and forget this filthy century. Finally, however, it was THE ADVENTURES OF SHERLOCK HOLMES that he took from the mantelpiece. SHERLOCK HOLMES was his favorite of all books, because he knew it by heart. The oil in the lamp was giving out and it was getting beastly cold. Gordon dragged the quilt from his bed, wrapped it round his legs and sat down to read. His right elbow on the table, his hands under his coat to keep them warm, he read through "The Adventure of the Speckled Band." The little gas-mantle sighed above, the circular flame of the oil-lamp burned low, a thin bracket of fire, giving out no more heat than a candle. — George Orwell

Sometimes he comes to me in my dreams, and I wonder if ironically all our stories were written on his skin back there in Texas City in 1947. Or maybe that's just poetic illusion purchased by time. But even in the middle of an Indian summer's day, when the sugarcane is beaten with purple and gold light in the fields and the sun is both warm and cool on your skin at the same time, when I know that the earth is a fine place after all, I have to mourn just a moment for those people of years ago who lived lives they did not choose, who carried burdens that were not their own, whose invisible scars were as private as the scarlet beads of Sister Roberta's rosary wrapped across the back of her small hand, as bright as drops of blood ringed round the souls of little people. — James Lee Burke

When he says "Skins or blankets?" it will take you a moment to realized that he's asking which you want to sleep under. And in your hesitation he'll decide that he wants to see your skin wrapped in the big black moose hide. He carried it, he'll say, soaking wet and heavier than a dead man, across the tundra for two - was it hours or days or weeks? But the payoff, now, will be to see it fall across one of your white breasts. It's December, and your skin is never really warm, so you will pull the bulk of it around you and pose for him, pose for his camera, without having to narrate this moose's death. — Pam Houston

The voice was calm and infinitely tender. He didn't understand the words, because unconsciousness still wrapped his mind in layers of blackness, but he heard the voice, felt it, like something warm touching his skin. It made him feel less alone, that tiny, dim contact. Something hard and vital in him focused on the contact, yearning toward it, forcing him upward out of the blackness, even though he sensed the fanged monsters that waited for him, waiting to tear at his flesh with hot knives and brutal teeth. He would have to endure that before he could reach the voice, and he was very weak. He might not make it. Yet the voice reached out to him, pulling at him like a magnet, lifting him out of the deep senselessness that had held him. — Linda Howard

The last thing I remember ia an exquisitely beautiful green and silver moth landing on the curve of my wrist. The sound of rain on the roof of our house gently pulls me toward consciousness. I fight to return to sleep though, wrapped in a warm cocoon of blankets, safe at home. I'm vaguely aware that my head aches. Possibly I have the flu and this is why I'm allowed to stay in bed, even though I can tell I've been asleep a long time. My mother's hand strokes my cheek and I don't push is away as I would in wakefulness, never wanting her to know how much I crave that gentle touch. How much I miss her even though I still don't trust her. Then there's a voice, the wrong voice, not my mother's and i'm scared. — Suzanne Collins

Pocket Poem
If this comes creased and creased again and soiled
as if I'd opened it a thousand times
to see if what I'd written here was right,
it's all because I looked too long for you
to put in your pocket. Midnight says
the little gifts of loneliness come wrapped
by nervous fingers. What I wanted this
to say was that I want to be so close
that when you find it, it is warm from me. — Ted Kooser

Not long after he nodded off, he felt something and opened his eyes. She was beside him on the floor by the stove, wrapped in her sleeping bag, red hair all crazy from sleep. "I got cold, even with the sleeping bag," she said. "I'll feed the fire," Ian replied, sitting up and slipping a couple of logs into the stove. Then he lay back down, giving her room on the pallet beside him and, pulling her close, said, "Come here, little girl. Let me get you warm." "Hmm. That's what I need." "And what I need," he said, giving her a kiss against her temple. "Can — Robyn Carr

Scraps of love
torn and tattered
faded, scattered
trashed
threads of hope
frayed and tangled
broken, mangled
dashed
backing, buttons
yarn and batting
quilted tenderly
wrapped up in
this warm repair
my patchwork family — Wendelin Van Draanen

Daphne Bridgerton, I don't - "
" - like my tone, I know." Daphne grinned. "But you love me."
Violet smiled warmly and wrapped an arm around Daphne's shoulder. "Heaven help me, I do."
Daphne gave her mother a quick peck on the cheek. "It's the curse of motherhood. You're required to love us even when we vex you."
Violet just sighed. "I hope that someday you have children - "
" - just like me, I know." Daphne smiled nostalgically and rested her head on her mother's shoulder. Her mother could be overly inquisitive, and her father had been more interested in hounds and hunting than he'd been in society affairs, but theirs had been a warm marriage, filled with love, laughter, and children. "I could do a great deal worse than follow your example, Mother," she murmured. — Julia Quinn

Wrapped in the scent of her warm, tempting skin? When a human is ... transformed — Alexandra Ivy

in a keen frost, I would feel the satisfaction of being shut in from the outer world (like the sea-swallow which builds at the end of a dark tunnel and is kept warm by the surrounding earth), and where, the fire keeping in all night, I would sleep wrapped up, as it were, in a great cloak of snug and savoury air, — Marcel Proust

I lost my voice and my best friend too
On swift, fierce winds and wings of blue,
The cold rain fell where beams had shone,
So I wrapped up tight and safe. Alone.

But I missed my friend, I missed my voice,
And my heart still whispered of another choice
To break out of my binding, safe, and warm,
And see what the world looked like after the storm.

So I struggled free and was greeted by
Colorful brushstrokes across the sky,
The melody of the summer breeze
And blue wings like mine in hazel trees.

On the soft, sweet air of the mountain glade,
We gathered together in cool, green shade,
And told our stories, beginnings to ends,
And found our song in the hearts of new friends. — Elaine Vickers

Shadow had no idea what a pasty was, but he said that would be fine, and in a few moments Mabel returned with a plate with what looked like a folded-over pie on it. The lower half was wrapped in a paper napkin. Shadow picked it up with the napkin and bit into it: it was warm and filled with meat, potatoes, carrots, onions. "First pasty I've ever had," he said. "It's real good. — Neil Gaiman

I woke up wrapped in Ranger's arms, our legs entwined, my face snuggled into his neck. He smelled nice, and he felt even better . . . warm and friendly. I enjoyed it for a moment before reality took hold. — Janet Evanovich

I'm trying to keep you safe."
Safe as a porcelain bowl wrapped in cotton linen and boxed up. It would be a lie to say she didn't want to feel safe, or that Nolan's worry didn't leave her feeling warm and even a bit precious. But it also left her feeling trapped, like an ornamental bird kept in a cage, its wings clipped. — Page Morgan

The scarf could go on and on and on and on, and it could be the harlot-red banner of shame that wrapped him up and kept him warm when the nights grew lonely and cold. — Amy Lane

She wouldn't look up at him, wouldn't take her hands from her eyes; she didn't want him to see her. So he wrapped his arms around her like armor, making a shelter for her to fall apart ... He surreptitiously rested his cheek against the top of her head. That rich hair was too silky and fine and warm, and her narrow pale part seemed ridiculously pale and vulnerable as a fontanelle. Here, it seemed to say, was proof that Thomasina de Ballesteros could be broken. Cracked like an egg. That she was human.
The rage he felt then toward the duke was almost euphoric. Almost holy.
This is how crusades are born, he thought. With this kind of certainty about right and wrong, good and evil, and the need to avenge. — Julie Anne Long

It's so cold that foreigners have to wrap in layers of fur to walk from building to building, while our natural Winterian blood keeps us warm even in the worst conditions. And snow is everywhere, always, so much that the grass beneath it is white from lack of sun. An entire kingdom wrapped in an orb of eternal winter. — Sara Raasch

I sat there in the darkness, with their skin clsoe to me, and I felt lifted up and wrapped with kindness. And very small, because I didn't deserve this, but small the way a mouse in its den is small: warm and safe and protected. — Emily Horner

On a warm spring day, a galloping horse was only too clearly a sweating animal of flesh and blood. But a horse racing through a snowstorm became one with the very elements; wrapped in the whirling blast of the north wind, the beast embodied the icy breath of winter. — Yukio Mishima

Can I touch you?"
His lashes closed, resting on the tops of his tanned, sculpted cheeks as his smile grew broad. "You don't have to ask." I reached out immediately but paused within inches of contact. He must've sensed my hesitation because he reopened his eyes. "What's wrong?"
I swallowed, utterly overwhelmed. "I don't know where to start."
Mason's gaze warmed . He wrapped strong warm fingers around my wrist and drew my palm forward, leading me where he wanted my hand to follow. When he set it on the center of his chest, right over his heart and pressed my flesh to his as if fingerprinting my soul to his. I blinked back gratified tears.
"Start here. No one's ever touched me here before. — Linda Kage

Then strong, warm arms wrapped around me from behind. "I've got you," Tod whispered in my ear. — Rachel Vincent

He looked up at the rain and closed his eyes, his hands still wrapped around her back. Mattie knew with an acute awareness that she would always remember this moment: both of them nude in the falling twilight of a mountain summer, sated and yet still hungry, Zeke's strong face tipped to received the gift of rain, his broad hands warm on her. — Barbara Samuel

Scarlet sat up, heat rushing to her face as she was struck with an almost irresistible yearning to crawl toward him - not to get off the train's roof, but to be wrapped up against him again. To feel warm and safe and content, just for another moment. She smashed the desire down into her gut. Wolf — Marissa Meyer

I love you, Meghan," he said quietly, his gaze never leaving my face. A warm glow spread through my stomach, and not from the wine. "I never thought I could be happy again. But you ... when I'm with you, everything I've endured, everything that's happened to me, it was all worth it. I will give you a thousand Valentine's Days, if it makes you smile like that."He put down his wine and stepped close, taking my glass and setting it on the table. His strong arms wrapped around my waist, drawing me against him. "Forever, Meghan Chase," he murmured, stroking my cheek. "I'm yours, forever. — Julie Kagawa

He would like to burrow under the earth like a bulb, like a root, to where it is still warm. To hibernate with his thoughts and feelings. To remain silent with a shrivelling mouth. He wishes that all the statements, insults, promises he has uttered would become invalid, forgotten by everyone and he himself forgotten too.
But no sooner is he secured in the silence, no sooner does he fancy that he has wrapped himself up like a chrysalis, than he is no longer right. A wet, cold wind blows his absence of expectations around the corner, over a flower-stall filled with evergreens and flowers for the dead. And suddenly he is holding in his hands the snowdrops that he didn't want to buy
he who wanted to go empty-handed! The bells of the snowdrops begin to ring wildly and soundlessly, and he goes to where his ruin awaits him. Filled with expectation as never before, with the expectation and the desire for salvation accumulated through all the years. — Ingeborg Bachmann

To celebrate the sacrament of reconciliation means to be wrapped in a warm embrace. — Pope Francis

For this my mother wrapped me warm,
And called me home against the storm,
And coaxed my infant nights to quiet,
And gave me roughage in my diet,
And tucked me in my bed at eight,
And clipped my hair, and marked my weight,
And watched me as I sat and stood:
That I might grow to womanhood
To hear a whistle and drop my wits
And break my heart to clattering bits. — Dorothy Parker

He woke up frozen stiff. A cold dawn was lighting up the peaks on the other side of the valley, making them shine like giant lanterns. Above, through the broken bones of the roof, he could see the sky, clear now, a deep violet blue, waiting for the sun to breach the mountaintops. The snow clouds had gone, off to bother someone else. Where he lay was still dark, wrapped in leftover shadows. The wall, so deliciously warm when he'd fallen asleep, was like ice, sucking the heat out of him, but what had woken him were screams. Long piercing screams, over and over. — Stephen Deas

It's sad to know you've gone through it all, or most of it, without ... that the one body you'v wrapped your arms around, the only skin you've ever known, is your own ... and that's it's dry, and not warm. — Edward Albee

And then, when I was at my lowest ebb, you came. And you somehow coaxed me into talking to you as though you were a trusted confidant. And then you flirted with me. For a few moments you bore me off with you to the sunshine above the clouds in a hot air balloon, wrapped together in warm furs and bound for a place far, far away. And then you kissed me. — Mary Balogh

He ran his fingers through my hair, his touch so gentle that it felt like a warm summer breeze. "All I want is you."
I shivered. Milo's lips parted in his sleep, and he made an adorable suckling motion. "All I want is to be a family. A real, live family, together and safe from all of this."
"We will be," he promised. "I will make sure of it."
I leaned against him and wrapped my arm around his waist, his silk shirt tickling the inside of my wrist. How long would it be before we got to spend time together like this again? — Aimee Carter

She really does have you wrapped around her finger, doesn't she?" Megan shook her head. Nate rolled his eyes. "You have no idea." But Jack only smiled, his gaze warm. "She's not the only one. — Pamela Clare

It was not a purer realm that loomed vastly over the city. Smokestacks punctured the membrane between the land and the air and disgorged tons of poisonous smog into that upper world as if out of spite. In a thicker, stinking haze just above the rooftops, the detritus from a million low chimneys eddied together. Crematoria vented into the airborne ashes of wills burnt by jealous executors, which mixed with coaldust burnt to keep dying lovers warm. Thousands of sordid smoke-ghosts wrapped New Crobuzon in a stench that suffocated like guilt. — China Mieville

Wait." He paused, and she held out a hand to him. His thick fingers engulfed her tapering ones; his skin was warm and dry, and scorched her. "Before we go pick up poor Lieutenant Illyan again ... "
He took her in his arms, and they kissed, for the first time, for a long time.
"Oh," she muttered after. "Perhaps that was a mistake. It hurts so much when you stop."
"Well, let me ... " his hand stroked her hair, gently, then desperately wrapped itself in a shimmering coil; they kissed again. — Lois McMaster Bujold

All my life, up until that moment, I'd had a warm, protective blanket wrapped around me, knitted of aunts and uncles, purled of first and second and third cousins, knot-tied with grandmas and grandpas and greats. That blanket had just dropped from my shoulders. I felt cold, lost and alone. — Karen Marie Moning

He slowly lowered his arms. The look on his face reached out and wrapped her in a warm embrace of love. He got to his feet and held out his hand. She closed the gap between them and buried her face in his chest. His arms enfolded her. — Melanie Dickerson

He wrapped his hand around my wrist, pulled me to him, and kissed me. The kiss was warm and short. — Janet Evanovich

The non-stop music wrapped a warm cocoon around her body. People's thoughts, rapid words flowed around her, without doing her any harm. She was part and parcel of the shop, a commodity like any other, an article in the first-floor department. — Jean-Marie G. Le Clezio

I starved and slept on park benches. I wrapped myself in the pages of my manuscript to keep warm. For two and a half years I took odd jobs; nothing was going to deter me. — Gary Jennings