Quotes & Sayings About Your Forearm

She put out her hand and touched his forearm, as she would have touched some piece of porcelain or sculpture, just for the sheer animal pleasure of feeling its shape and curve beneath her fingertips. — Rosamunde Pilcher

I broke my finger in a stunt in a very not-too-romantic way. I was just trying to tackle someone, and I just flicked his forearm and then screamed in pain. — Chris Pine

Gasping for breath, he turned on the lights and saw bits and pieces of his Mom and Dad strewn about the blood-spattered room. He recognized his mother's gold earring on an ear lying next to the bedpost and saw his father's anchor tattoo on a severed forearm. Everywhere he looked, he saw more ghastly evidence that some inhuman monster had sliced and diced his parents almost beyond recognition. — Billy Wells

I agree. To me, it [galloping on horseback] is the essence of freedom - the power of the beast beneath you, the wind in your face, the thundering of the hooves. It is a great elixir for the soul."
"And does your soul need healing, Benjamin?" she asked quietly, gently running her fingertips across his bicep and down his forearm.
He turned away from the view of the pond and looked at her with clear, blue eyes, his expression serious. He captured her fingers in the palm of his hand. "My healing started the day I met you. You are my elixir."
"Then perhaps you need another dose," she whispered, her face upturned as she leaned closer to him. — Suzannah Daniels

The immediate thing that strikes you when you see the inside of the hand is its compactness. The ball of your thumb, the thenar eminence, contains four different muscles. Twiddle your thumb and tilt your hand: ten different muscles and at least six different bones work in unison. Inside the wrist are at least eight small bones bones that move against one another. Bend your wrist, and you are using a number of muscles that begin in your forearm, extending into tendons as they travel down your arm to end at your hand. Even the simplest motion involves a complex interplay among many parts packed in a small space. — Neil Shubin

I clung to the pain like a badge of honor. Blood dripped in a slow splatter from a deep gash in my forearm, and my left knee throbbed from a vicious twist, but I couldn't suppress my grin. I dragged my sleeve across my face to clear some of the sweat and grime, and squinted at the massive demon who crouched beside the white trunks of grove trees a dozen feet across the clearing. — Diana Rowland

Keegan rested his forearm on the wheel. "If the spell is fading, you could've grown old with this woman. She never had to know you were the Quartermaster on the Sea Dog when it sank in 1795."

"All true." Colton glanced over his shoulder toward the bow. "But every man she's ever known has lied to her. I didn't want to be another one. — Lisa Kessler

I wiped my jaw with a forearm, half imagining that I could still feel the product of the quickie out back of the bar. — Kaden Brown

After another half second, he's locked me in a bear hug, crushing me into his chest and lifting my feet a couple inches off the ground as I kick furiously with my heels, twisting my head back and forth, snapping at his forearm with my teeth.
And the whole time his lips tickling the delicate skin of my ear. "Cassie. Don't. Cassie ... "
"Let ... me ... go."
"That's been the whole problem. I can't. — Rick Yancey

You're worried about your mother dying, aren't you," Leah said, putting her cheek on my forearm. "I can tell."
For a moment I hesitated, but I could hear the call for intimacy in her voice, the desire for me to let her enter those grottoes where I tended my own fear of my mother's illness. — Pat Conroy

Jesper ran a finger up Wylan's forearm, and Wylan flushed a vibrant pink. Matthias couldn't help but sympathize with the boy. He knew what it was to be out of your depth, and he sometimes suspected they could forgo all of Kaz's planning and simply let Jesper and Nina flirt the entirety of Ketterdam into submission. — Leigh Bardugo

[F]or me, being a Jew means feeling the tragedy of yesterday as an inner oppression. On my left forearm I bear the Auschwitz number; it reads more briefly than the Pentateuch or the Talmud and yet provides more thorough information. It is also more binding than basic formulas of Jewish existence. If to myself and the world, including the religious and nationally minded Jews, who do not regard me as one of their own, I say: I am a Jew, then I mean by that those realities and possibilities that are summed up in the Auschwitz number. — Jean Amery

Is this your way of telling me to shut my face?" Jace inquired. "Remember when you mocked me for sneaking around with Magnus and asked me if I'd fallen on my neck?" Alec asked, placing the tip of the stele against his forearm and starting to draw an iratze. "This is payback. — Cassandra Clare

In the space of a breath, Kaz had shoved Wylan against the tomb wall with his forearm, the crow head of his cane wedged beneath Wylan's jaw. "Tell me my business again." Wylan swallowed, parted his lips. "Do it," said Kaz. "And I'll cut the tongue from your head and feed it to the first stray cat I can find. — Leigh Bardugo

I rubbed my left forearm and hand, the entirety of which was now covered in swirls and whorls of black ink. Even my fingers weren't spared, and a large eye was tattooed in the center of my palm. It was feline, and its slitted pupil stared right back at me. — Sarah J. Maas

Know what one of the guys at the drive-through Starbucks has on his forearm?" Bernadette said. "A paper clip! It used to be so daring to get a tattoo. And now people are tattooing office supplies on their bodies. — Maria Semple

The wind was just above them. It seemed to skim the tops of the surrounding dunes, bending the grass. But here the sun on his knees and on his forearm felt warm. — Alice McDermott

Crooked Warden, I will fear no darkness for the night is yours," muttered Locke, pointing the first two fingers of his left hand into the darkness. The Dagger of the Thirteenth, a thief's gesture against evil. "Your night is my cloak, my shield, my escape from those who hunt to feed the noose. I will fear no evil, for you have made the night my friend."
"Bless the Benefactor," said Jean, squeezing Locke's left forearm. "Peace and profit to his children. — Scott Lynch

I studied him the way I studied all the people in my life, noticing the changes of his mood, the times when the edge of his patience came into view, even small physical details like the sickle-shaped scar on the top of his right forearm and the small flourish he made with his hand whenever he set down a tool, as if he was brushing bad air away from it. — Roland Merullo

The man-nurse was his age and had sleepy eyes with dark circles under them, and a jutting Cro-Magnon forehead. His name tag said, improbably, BIBLO. He had a spaceship tattooed on one hairy forearm: Serenity from the TV show Firefly.
"'I am a leaf on the wind,'" Lou said, and the man-nurse said, "Dude, don't say that. I don't want to start crying on the job. — Joe Hill

Yeah, you bet Romani.' Percy bared his forearm and showed them the brand he'd got at Camp Jupiter- the SPQR mark, with the trident of Neptune. 'You mix Greek and Roman, and you know what you get? You get BAM!'
He stomped his foot, and the empousai scrambled back. One fell off the boulder where she'd been perched. — Rick Riordan

Come on, Seregil, let's show him how it's done."
"I'm busy," replied Seregil, working on a tricky bit of fingering.
Moving to stand over him, Micum groweled, "Put away that twopenny toy, you tit-sucking coistril, and show me the length of your blade!"
Seregil laid his harp aside with a sigh. "Dear me, that sounds rather like a challenge-"
Lunging swiftly past Micum, he sprang to his feet and drew his sword, then swung a flat-bladed attack at Micum's forearm. — Lynn Flewelling

I'll try to find an herb that will help. I shall research it." Her voice held determination. He smiled. "My little healer. You try to fix everyone. Can you fix my heart?" "Has someone harmed it?" "I fear it's been irretrievably ensnared by you." Her smile widened, and she placed her small gloved hand on his forearm. "That's a perfect state for it. I shall endeavor to keep it that way." "And what of the state of your own heart?" She sobered. "I fear it is as entangled as yours. — Colleen Coble

What have you done to me?"
Rhysand stood, running a hand through his short, dark hair. It's custom in my court for bargains to be permanently marked upon flesh."
I rubbed my left forearm and hand, the entirety of which was now covered in swirls and whorls of black ink. Even my fingers weren't spared, and a large eye was tattooed in the center of my palm. It was feline, and its slitted pupil stared right back me.
"Make it go away," I said, and he laughed.
"You humans are truly grateful creatures, aren't you? — Sarah J. Maas

Now would you do me a favor?' From somewhere inside me came this devastating assault to make me cry. But I withstood. I would not cry. I would merely indicate to Jennifer - by the affirmative nodding of my head - that I would be happy to do her any favor whatsoever.
'Would you please hold me very tight?' she asked.
I put my hand on her forearm - Christ, so thin - and gave it a little squeeze.
'No, Oliver,' she said, 'really hold me. Next to me.'I was very, very careful - of the tubes and things - as I got onto the bed with her and put my arms around her.
'Thanks, Ollie.'
Those were her last words. — Erich Segal

It's exciting and it's thrilling and it's not particularly threatening, because they're not overtly sexual. A lot of the physical side of it is conveyed in things like the vampire will touch her forearm or run a hand over skin, and she just flushes all hot and cold. And for girls, that's a shorthand for all the feelings that they're not ready to deal with yet. — Stephen King

When you have an injury in your forearm, it affects the command of your pitches. I would yank pitches down away, or they were staying up. I'd go to accelerate, but everything would come forward except the ball. The ball was staying behind. When you have an inconsistent release point like that, it's impossible to throw a changeup. — Phil Humber

His body is pressed against my back, his arm is wrapped protectively around my waist, his breath a delicious tickle against my neck. The room is very cold; it would be nice to climb under the covers, but I don't want to move. I don't want him to move. I run my fingers along his bare forearm, remembering the warmth of his lips, the silkiness of his hair between my fingers. The boy who never sleeps, sleeping. Coming to rest upon the Cassiopeian shore, an island in the middle of a sea of blood. You have your promise, and I have you.
I can't trust him. I have to trust him.
I can't stay with him. I can't leave him behind. — Rick Yancey

When I was 14, I almost had a big green leprechaun tattooed on my forearm. Thank God I didn't - it would have been a nightmare to cover up as an actor. I went with a group of mates and, being Irish, thought a leprechaun would be perfect. — Jonas Armstrong

My biggest problem was to get the coaches to understand that I was a runner, and I wanted to prepare myself based upon the calisthenics I did and get myself ready. For example, I used my forearm when I ran the ball, so I didn't want to do pushups because I wanted my forearms to heal. — Jim Brown

When I see your scars, do I want to erase them? Absolutely. But not your physical scars. The real ones, beneath the surface. The ones that compel you to stay silent or force you to cringe. Those are the scars I want to obliterate." His finger circles the dip of a burn mark on her forearm. "This is a battle trophy and nothing to be ashamed of. Every one of your scars makes you more beautiful to me. — Laura Kreitzer

When you play guitar and strum, you're using biceps and triceps to move up and down. I realized you could just turn your wrist, your forearm, using smaller muscles in your arm that are much more efficient and much quicker. — Jake Shimabukuro

Lying On The Grass

The solid earth has never yet complained.
There is only the slight scrape
Of the accommodating grass
Adjusting around your body its bent blades.

Part the grass with fingertips
To follow the travels of ants
And expeditions of other insects
Through the weeds.

On your forearm
A light green mite
Is blown when you breathe
From its perch, a sunlit hair. — Jon Bracker

Most definitely the real world, Komatsu said, and he rubbed his inner forearm. Pale veins rose to the surface. They were not very healthy-looking blood vessels - blood vessels damaged by years of drinking, smoking, an unhealthy lifestyle, and various literary intrigues. — Haruki Murakami

He reached out a hand, and when she didnt move he curved fingers around her forearm slowly, as if afraid she'd dart away. He drew her toward him and his eyes slid shut as he inhaled. "Cinnamon and wild spice" One hand reached up and curled into her hair. "There was a woman last night, at the game." She froze in his arms. "Blonde hair, lithe, willing." Eyes caressed her face. "But the eyes were wrong, the color, the shape. Her scent." "Did you -" She swallowed. "Did you kiss her?" She couldnt ask if he'd done more. "No, I couldnt." His thumb ran over her bottom lip. "Her lips were completely wrong. How could I?" Her breath caught as his eyes held hers. "Oh." And something inside her, some devil, prompted her to add, "And mine?" "Perfect." He pulled her the rest of the way toward him and her lips met his. — Anne Mallory

...the bioidentical cortex chip that will be implanted subcutaneously on the inside of your forearm. It is a proprietary biocircuit developed in our labs specifically for this purpose, and it is unlike any other in the world. — Sam A. Patel

That's lucky?" Tom repeated bitterly. "Lucky now means 'worst case scenario ever,' then. That's great. Good to know."

"Sir," Blackburn corrected.

"You outrank me. You shouldn't call me 'sir.'"

"Raines, you'll address me as 'sir' or I will stick you back down in that cell next to the census device until 'sir' is the only word you remember."

Tom bristled. He'd never hated someone so much. "Sir, yes, sir. I'll use 'sir,' sir. Is that all, sir?"

"Oh, I'd say that's all. Get into the simulation with the others." Blackburn jabbed at his forearm keyboard. "It irritates me just looking at you."

Back at you, Tom thought. — S.J. Kincaid

Everyone detected with AIDS should be tattooed in the upper forearm, to protect common needle users, and on the buttock, to prevent the victimization of other homosexuals. — William F. Buckley Jr.

You can try. Not that you'll get anywhere. If you were in love, that would be one thing, but we both know this is pride talking." Audrey patted his forearm. "It's all right. I won't tell anybody about your shameful failure. I'll keep it completely confidential. — Ilona Andrews

I certainly don't agree with the bodybuilders who say you can get big forearms just by squeezing the dumbbell handles when doing curls. In a few cases this may be true, but those guys would build big forearms by merely eating eggs in the morning. Most bodybuilders, myself included, have to work very hard for any kind of meaningful forearm development. — Lou Ferrigno

Something awful must've happened on the surface, Damy thought. He squeezed his forearm, looking at the animated tattoo there, the mark of the strike teams. — Raeden Zen

How you want me, baby?"
She answered him by biting his forearm hard.
He spun her in his arms. When he went in for a kiss, she slapped his face.
"So that's how?" He put her hard against the wall, holding her by her throat. "You have to fight me? Cause I'm the toughest fucker you've ever met. Say it. — Debra Anastasia

I could be dead in a minute," he said grimly, then clutched my forearm. "Look, if I get shot, do me a favor. Call my brother and tell him there's $10,000 buried in a coffee can under his front lawn." "You buried $10,000 under your brother's front lawn?" "No, of course not, but he's a little prick and it would serve him right. Let's go. — Bill Bryson

He stood and grabbed her forearm, pulling her just ever so slightly toward him. "But if you want any help studying, let me know."

Her eyes flickered down to his lips, then back up to meet his gaze. She straightened her shoulders and exhaled. "Let me guess, you'll quiz e, and for each wrong answer I give, I'll have to take off something I'm wearing?"

Kane's mouth parted and his eyes widened as her considered the image she'd just painted for him. "Hell, kitty, I was genuinely offering to help, but your idea is so much better. Let's go with that. — Sarah Robinson

Let go of it this instant, or I'll dump it's contents on your head and leave you to wallow in honeyed misery," he whispered in her ear, his amusement as plain as his threat.
Shahrzad froze, his breath tickling her skin.
"Do it and I'll bite your hand," she said. "Until you scream like a little boy."
He laughed--a rich susurrus of air and sound. "I thought you were tired of bloodshed. Perhaps I'll toss you over my shoulder. In front of everyone."
Refusing to comply with out a fight, she pinched his forearm until he grimaced. — Renee Ahdieh

Feeling his smile against her neck,she couldn't contain her smirk.
She slid her hand up his forearm,relishing in the tension,the strength, 'You noticed,'
'Of course I noticed.And you know I cant let you go until I've done something about it.'
'Aren't you supposed to avoid sex before a battle.'
'I'm a lycan, darling,' he said against her ear before kissing it.'Not a lightweight. — Lindsay J. Pryor

Over the table, on which an unpacked line of fabric samples was all spread out
Samsa was a traveling salesman
hung the picture which he had recently cut out of a glossy magazine and lodged in a pretty gilt frame. It showed a lady done up in a fur hat and a fur boa, sitting upright and raising up against the viewer a heavy fur muff in which her whole forearm had disappeared. — Franz Kafka

The newcomer stood well over six feet, as tall as any Warden. His hair was dark, the color of obsidian, and it reflected blue in the dim light. Lazy locks slipped over his forehead and curled just below his ears. Brows arched over golden eyes and his cheekbones were broad and high. He was attractive. Very attractive. Mind-bendingly beautiful, actually, but the sardonic twist to his full lips chilled his beauty. The black T-shirt stretched across his chest and flat stomach. A huge tattoo of a snake curled around his forearm, the tail disappearing under his sleeve and the diamond-shaped head rested on the top of his hand. He looked my age. Total crush material - if it wasn't for the fact that he had no soul. — Jennifer L. Armentrout

We're going to destroy Cel-Romano. I wanted you to know that before you die," Stavros said. "You upstart infestation. You thought you could wipe out the terra indigene? It's your species that is going to wither - and you will be one of the things the survivors, if there are any, can thank for that." He released Scratch and floated a safe distance away as dozens of the Sharkgard rushed in to strike the enemy, consuming the human piece by piece. A foot. A hand. A forearm. A thigh. — Anne Bishop

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

For with each bite he tasted not just the irresistible sweetness of the dessert, but the deliciously agonizing negative flavor of all the imagined foodstuffs that he could have bought with that nickel instead - a turkey leg the size of his forearm, or a milkshake with a pair of deep red strawberries floating on its surface. The single relinquished nickel sat in the custard seller's till, its gold transmuted back to lead. — Dexter Palmer

Don't ya'll have anything better to do than to mess with Myles?" she asked. "Sadly, Mom, they don't," Myles said. It's the only respite they have from their monotonous, inconsequential tedium of an existence." Amir's eyes widened. "Duck, Pop! He's gonna big word us to death." Amir lifted his forearm. "Thesaurus-shields up! — Marcus Major

I grab his forearm. I love a good, strong forearm on a man and his forearm game is on point. — Karina Halle

There was someone in his little attic room. Geralt knew it before he even reached the door, sensing it through the barely perceptible vibration of his medallion. He blew out the oil lamp which had lit his path up the stairs, pulled the dagger from his boot, slipped it into the back of his belt and pressed the door handle. The room was dark. But not for a witcher. He was deliberately slow in crossing the threshold; he closed the door behind him carefully. The next second he dived at the person sitting on his bed, crushed them into the linen, forced his forearm under their chin and reached for his dagger. He didn't pull it out. Something wasn't right. "Not a bad start," she said in a muffled voice, lying motionless beneath him. "I expected something like this, but I didn't think we'd both be in bed so quickly. Take your hand from my throat please." "It's — Andrzej Sapkowski

Soft fingers grip my wrist and forearm. My eyes shoot to hers, but she's too busy fussing over the noncut to notice how her caress is turning me inside out. In a good way. In a strange way. In a way I haven't felt since ... Beth. — Katie McGarry

And yet something in his dark, still shape spoke of a sadness I couldn't begin to understand, one I suddenly wished I might do something to dispel. Surprising myself, I reached out and laid a hand on his forearm. I heard a sudden intake of breath, but I made myself give his arm a gentle squeeze before I let go. He really didn't feel very different from a human - at least, a human who was well-muscled. The flesh under my fingertips had been firm and unyielding. — Christine Pope

Have you kissed many boys before?" he asked quietly.
His question brought my mind back into focus. I raised an eyebrow. "Boys? That's an assumption."
Noah laughed, the sound low and husky. "Girls, then?"
"No."
"Not many girls? Or not many boys?"
"Neither," I said. Let him make of that what he would.
"How many?"
"Why - "
"I am taking away that word. You are no longer allowed to use it. How many?"
My cheeks flushed, but my voice was steady as I answered. "One."
At this, Noah leaned in impossibly closer, the slender muscles in his forearm flexing as he bent his elbow to bring himself nearer to me, almost touching. I was heady with the proximity of him and grew legitimately concerned that my heart might explode. Maybe Noah wasn't asking. Maybe I didn't mind. I closed my eyes and felt Noah's five o' clock graze my jaw, and the faintest whisper of his lips at my ear.
"He was doing it wrong. — Michelle Hodkin

So what is it really like? What happens when people die? Noor asks Alice Bhatti, who after finishing her shift has changed into a loose maxi and is lying down on a wheelie stretcher, her forearm covering her eyes. A half-torn poster on the wall behind the stretcher says : Bhai, your blood will bring a revolution. Someone has scrawled under it with a marker: And that revolution will bring more blood. Someone has added Insha'allah in an attempt to introduce divine intervention into the proceedings. Some more down-to-earth soul has tried to give this revolution a direction, and drawn an arrow underneath and scribbled, Bhai, the Blood Bank is in Block C. — Mohammed Hanif

I hope they're in town. I want to face them! Reign stood and brandished one of the two swords that she usually wore in sheaths crisscrossed on her back-in addition to the dagger sheath she customarily wore on her forearm. "I'll lunch on their balls!"
That was Reign's new threat: to lunch on enemies' balls. "Reege, when you threaten males with that, I don't think it has the result you intend. They think less Lunchables, more tea bag. — Kresley Cole

The scar on her forearm meant she could never be loyal to her family. Her name meant she could never be loyal to the Corbeaus. The only one left to be loyal to was him. — Anna-Marie McLemore

My sweet lemming," he murmured, nuzzling her neck and sending glorious spirals of pleasure ping-ponging throughout her body. "You've been quiet and that worries me."
"Why?" she asked, trailing her hand down his banded forearm to entwine her fingers within his.
"Because that means you're thinking, and a thinking woman is usually something to fear. — T.J. Shaw

Al walks toward the railing. "No," Eric says. "She has to do it on her own." "No, she doesn't," Al growls. "She did what you said. She's not a coward. She did what you said." Eric doesn't respond. Al reaches over the railing, and he's so tall that he can reach Christina's wrist. She grabs his forearm. Al pulls her up, his face red with frustration, and I run forward to help. I'm too short to do much good as I suspected, but I grip Christina under the shoulder once she's high enough, and Al and I haul her over the barrier. She drops to the ground her face still blood smeared from the fight, her back soaking wet, her body quivering. I kneel next to her. Her eyes lift to mine, then shift to Al, and we all catch our breath together. — Veronica Roth

The woman stared at the ruined body. Blood dripped from her arm. A fine spray of red covered her face
must've been cast off when she slammed down the cans. She wiped her face with her left forearm and kicked the stalker's corpse with her sneakered foot. Don't mess with Texas. — Ilona Andrews

In the black hour before dawn, they stopped to let the horses drink and fed them each a handful of oats and a twist or two of hay. "We are not far from the place the wildlings died," said Qhorin. "From there, one man could hold a hundred. The right man." He looked at Squire Dalbridge.
The squire bowed his head. "Leave me as many arrows as you can spare, brothers." He stroked his longbow. "And see my garron has an apple when you're home. He's earned it, poor beastie." He's staying to die, Jon realized.
Qhorin clasped the squire's forearm with a gloved hand. "If the eagle flies down for a look at you..."
"...he'll sprout some new feathers. — George R R Martin

You can't miss your schedule. Every morning, you're supposed to stick your right arm in this contraption in the wall. It tattoos the smooth inside of your forearm with your schedule for the day in a sickly purple ink. 7:00 - Breakfast. 7:30 - Kitchen Duties. 8:30 - Education Center, Room 17. And so on. The ink is indelible until 22:00 - Bathing — Suzanne Collins

Oh, dear." She let her head fall back to the pillow. "There it went. I've fallen in love with you now."
"Just now?" Chuckling, he came to a sitting position, resting his forearm on one bent knee. "Well, thank God for belated blessings." He ran a hand
through his hair. "It's been coming on rather longer than that for me."
"What?" She sat bolt upright. "What can you mean? Since when?"
"From the first, Amelia. From the very first. — Tessa Dare

Like forearm veins, my interests spread in different directions and eventually led to the hands, to writing. — Cameron Conaway

It wasn't beautiful people like Celeste who were drawing Jane's eyes, but ordinary people and the beautiful ordinariness of their bodies. A tanned forearm with a tattoo of the sun reaching out across the counter at the service station. The back of an older's man neck in a queue at the supermarket. Calf muscles and collarbones. It was the strangest thing. She was reminder of her father, who years ago had an operation on his sinuses that returned the sense of smell he hadn't realized he'd lost. The simplest smells sent him into rhapsodies of delight. He kept sniffing Jane's mother's neck and saying dreamily, I'd forgotten your mother's smell! I didn't know I'd forgotten it! — Liane Moriarty

He wore sweatpants and a T-shirt and had stopped in the middle of the hall, furiously scratching one bare forearm. "Fleas?" I said. — Kelley Armstrong

He was dead. I was fixated on the horrid bite wound on my left forearm. For a long time I watched, hypnotized, as the blood oozed and dripped. — Bobby Adair

the "bystander effect": the more people around to provide help, the less likely one is to receive help. Dad hypothesized that this didn't apply to black people, a loving race whose very survival has been dependent on helping one another in times of need. So he made me stand on the busiest intersection in the neighborhood, dollar bills bursting from my pockets, the latest and shiniest electronic gadgetry jammed into my ear canals, a hip-hop heavy gold chain hanging from my neck, and, inexplicably, a set of custom-made carpeted Honda Civic floor mats draped over my forearm like a waiter's towel, and as tears streamed from my eyes, my own father mugged me. He — Paul Beatty

On the table in front of me are two baskets. In one is a hunk of cheese, and in the other, a knife the length of my forearm. Behind me, a woman's voice says, "Choose." "Why?" I ask. "Choose," she repeats. I look over my shoulder, but no one is there. I turn back to the baskets. "What will I do with them?" "Choose!" she yells. — Veronica Roth

The justification for rap rock seems to be that if you take really bad rock and put really bad rap over it, the result is somehow good, provided the raps are barked by an overweight white guy with cropped hair and forearm tattoos. — John Jeremiah Sullivan

As attention to the warning of the physical senses will preserve the health of our body, so attention to the warnings of our inner senses will forewarn and forearm against the influences that are hostile to spiritual life. — F.B. Meyer

The gummy bears tattoo was my idea. It's my son's favorite candy. The sketch was my other son's idea. It's a self-portrait of himself. I just showed the artist his sketch and had him tattoo it on my forearm. It looks like a stick person with big hair. It's pretty funny. — Prince Fielder

I will have papers. And whether it is one George or the other who rules in time - this land will be ours. And yours," he added softly, raising his eyes to Brianna's. "And your children's after you."
I laid my hand on his, where it rested on the box. His skin was warm with work and the heat of the day, and he smelt of clean sweat. The hairs on his forearm shone red and gold in the sun, and I understood very well just then, why it is that men measure time. They wish to fix a moment, in the vain hope that so doing will keep it from departing — Diana Gabaldon

At that moment, Bobbie Faye felt an unbridled hatred for every movie heroine who'd ever raced away from he villain in Jimmy Choo shoes, looking perfectly coiffed and ready for an afternoon tea. That was just wrong. When the pain finally got to her, she tossed pride way the hell away and pressed her free arm across her chest to hold her boobs a little steadier. Unfortunately, that shortened her reach and she was unable to block briars and limbs and vines at face-level. Unwilling to admit defeat, Bobbie Faye held her forearm across her breasts while twisting her wrist so that her hand flapped in front of her to help with deflecting the underbrush, all while holding her hair with the other hand. She hadn't quite perfected the coordination of running to flapping when Trevor glanced over his shoulder. As he turned away, she distinctly heard something that sounded a little too much like 'spastic, hobbled penguin. — Toni McGee Causey

After untangling a cord, then moving the MacBook to the floor, Paul lay beside Erin and meekly pawed her forearm three times, then briefly held some of her fingers, which were surprisingly warm. He lay stomach-down with his arm on her arm, thinking that if she woke, while he was asleep, this contact could be viewed as accidental. Maybe she would roll toward him, resting her arm across his back - they'd both be stomach-down, as if skydiving - in an unconscious or dream-integrated manner she wouldn't remember, in the morning, when they'd wake in a kind of embrace and begin kissing, neither knowing who initiated, therefore brought together naturally, like plants that join at their roots. — Tao Lin

from the trunk the way a branch grows from a tree. It begins to bud at just four weeks' gestation, and over three subsequent weeks divides into a rudimentary hand, forearm and upper arm, then rotates through ninety degrees. It's the movement of those muscles as the arm grows and rotates, and the fixed origin of the nerves in the neck, which provide the warp and weave of the brachial plexus. Homer — Gavin Francis

They prickled her like thorns and leaves growing under her skin, and she felt the ache of a glass vine caging her forearm. They would crack, and the jagged pieces would cut into her wrists. Her blood would tint the glass. It would splinter and cut deeper into her. — Anna-Marie McLemore

I wasn't scared (during his first at-bat). I just told them (Mo Vaughn & Kevin Mitchell') to give me all that hockey equipment (forearm pad & shin guard respectively). — Roger Clemens

I sat back and stared down at Alec's goods.

"What the fuck? That is a forearm not a fucking cock! — L.A. Casey

Here?"
She gasped, grasping his forearm with her hand.
He growled low in his throat as he watched her attempt to understand the feelings coursing through her. When he spoke, his voice was rough with his own response. "I think you want more than that. — Sarah MacLean

Are you finally starting to breathe in a normal fashion?" Shahrzad teased. "I must confess I find your behavior rather odd, considering you said only a child would be afraid to fly."
"I wasn't afraid." Khalid wrapped a forearm of corded muscle around her. She slanted a disbelieving look his way. "You just lied to me."
"I wasn't afraid," he repeated. "I was terrified. — Renee Ahdieh