H Quotes
Browse famous quotes beginning with H. This page is a child index of the full Popular Quotes A-Z directory.
“Her primary reason for living and my primary reason for living were awfully entangled.”
Source: The Fault in Our Stars
“Her problem is with pretty,” Tennyson said. "She thinks I’ll need all these dresses in college. Like I would ever in a billion years pledge a sorority. I’ll pack a few of these to be ironic, though. I can wear them to, like, truck stops at night with mascara running down my cheeks and stuff.”
Source: Perfect Glass
“Her problem was that she could not interpret her own feelings for him. Not since before reaching puberty had she lowered her guard to let another person get so close as she had with him. To be quite honest, he had a trying ability to penetrate her defences and to get her to talk about personal matters and private feelings. Even though she had enough sense to ignore most of his questions, she talked about herself in a way that she would never, even under the threat of death, have imagined doing with any other person. It frightened her and made her feel naked and vulnerable to his will.”
Source: The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo
“Her problem wasn't she was a dumb blonde, it was she wasn't a blonde and she wasn't dumb.”
“Her profession's her religion, her sin is lifelessness.”
Source: The Superhuman Crew
“Her professors were astonished by her leaps of thought, by the finesse and elegance of her insights. She arrived at hypotheses by sheer intuition and with what eventually one of her mentors described as an almost alarming speed; she was like a dancer, he said, out in the cosmos springing weightlessly from star to star. Drones, merely brilliant, crawled along behind with laborious proofs that supported her assertions.”
Source: Twilight of the Superheroes
“Her profile as well as her stature and bearing seemed to gain the more dignity from her plain garments, which by the side of provincial fashion gave her the impressiveness of a fine quotation from the Bible,—or from one of our elder poets,—in a paragraph of to-day’s newspaper.”
Source: Middlemarch
“Her protector and savior was shirtless and barefoot, dressed only in a pair of drawers. He stood beside the bed with his back to her, turning down the covers. She studied the rippling muscles of his shoulders and arms as he performed the mundane task. His back was a beautiful, pale canvas on which she could imagine painting letters and designs. She admired the bands of muscle and the shadows beneath his shoulder blades. His drawers sagged low, revealing narrow hips and the intriguing curve of his rear. Her sex tightened at the glimpse of his buttocks.
His face was in profile and his nose no longer seemed too big or his features too coarse as she’d once thought, so long ago it seemed. Instead, they appeared assertively masculine except for the thick sweep of eyelashes and the generous fullness of his lips.
Alan noticed her and turned. The blanket fell from his fingers as he gazed at her with the eyes of a hungry dragon. His lips parted and the exhalation of his breath floated to her across the quiet room. Then he walked toward her.”
Source: Captive Bride
“Her protestations were drowned out by the sound of Gordon Honeycomb barfing up aftershock into the kitchenette sink.”
Source: The Bizarre Letters of St John Morris
“Her protests died in her throat as Conall suddenly covered her mouth with his in a searing kiss that made her forget the long list of reasons that were lining up in her head for why they shouldn't marry here and now. That wasn't all she forgot either. She forgot that her father stood beside her, that hundreds of soldiers surrounded them and, worst of all, that Father Cameron stood just feet away, witness to her horrible, sinning ways when she melted against Conall, wrapped her arms around his neck and sighed and moaned as he devoured her mouth.
When Conall's hands slid down her back, pressing her body firmly against his and then curved under her bottom and lifted her off the ground, Claray instinctively wrapped her legs around his hips, then gasped into his mouth as he began to walk, his body rubbing against her core with each step.”
Source: Highland Wolf
“Her pulchritudinous hazel eyes, was an epitome of defining pain in the most beautiful way.”
Source: Incantations - Whispers of Nature, Echoes of the Soul
“Her pulse pounded in her ears. She didn't need to turn around to know he was standing behind her. Most likely with a smirk at catching her impromptu belly dance.”
Source: Accidentally Married on Purpose
“Her pupils were at once her salvation and her despair. They gave her the means of supporting life, but they made life hardly worth supporting.”
Source: The Man Upstairs: And Other Stories
“Her purchases just about busted her vacation budget, but what else is a vacation for, if not for overindulgence and mindless extravagance?”
Source: Good Time Girl
“Her purse was a weight, ballast; it tethered her to the earth as her mind floated away.”
Source: Plan B: Further Thoughts on Faith
“Her queen danced like a flame in the wind, and the mercurial king like the weight at the center of the earth.”
“her queer eye stay watching God.”
“Her quickness of mind was like a hiss, a dart, a lethal bite.”
Source: My Brilliant Friend
“Her quiet sobs were absorbed into the aria of their voices, their protection and love enveloping her pain and carrying her song.”
Source: Poinsettia Girl: The Story of Agata della Pieta
“Her quietness was just part of who she was. To men, she was a mystery they needed to solve and nothing would stop the pursuit—not even their own stupidity”
Source: The Soulmatcher
“Her rage flopped awkwardly away like a duck. She felt as she had when her cold, fierce parents had at last grown sick and old, stick-boned and saggy, protected by infirmity the way cuteness protected a baby, or should, it should protect a baby, and she had been left with her rage--vestigial, girlhood rage--inappropriate and intact. She would hug her parents good-bye, the gentle, emptied sacks of them, and think Where did you go?”
“Her rage pumped through her, so loud Nesta could barely hear the real fire before which her sister paced. Was glad of the roaring in her head when the sound of wood cracking as it burned was so much like her father's breaking neck that she couldn't stand to light a fire in her own home.”
Source: A Court of Silver Flames
“Her reaction had not been unusual. Anti-natalism—the idea that humans should not breed—was not a popular view. Not even amongst most green freaks. This despite the fact that all the troubles that existed in the world existed solely because of human beings.
Despite the obviousness of this idea, admitting this to the average person was like confessing to a murder. Even in a post-apocalyptic wasteland where all that existed was misery and squalor, humans, in their never-ending capacity for delirium, would without a doubt still continue bringing new people into this world instead of realizing that doing so was both cruel and insane. That was how strongly the delusion that life was good was embedded into us. It had to be since otherwise there wouldn’t be any humans around. Life was like a pyramid scheme that had to be constantly shoved down the throats of new victims in order to keep the scam going.”
Source: The Nihilist
“her real claim to consideration is, if I may be so coarse, her legs. Oh they are exquisite – running like slender pillars up into her trunk, which is that of a breastless cuirassier (yet she has 2 children) but all about her is virginal, savage, patrician [...]”
“Her recoil confirmed the disgust Grant felt inside. Who was he kidding, trying to put Vladimir and Andrei behind bars? He was no different from his father. Then he remembered Sophie’s words.
“You’re not like them. You’re my McSailor.”
A soft touch made him smile, thinking of Bonnie, before he realized it was Innochka’s hand stroking his face. The touch of a mobster’s girlfriend. He leaped back, still crouched on his feet.”
Source: On Best Behavior
“Her red hair streaming in the light—
A spill of autumn leaves.”
“Her red lipstick leaving an imprint on the skin. Marking the place for the future tattoo. I lift her chin so I can get a good look at her face.”
Source: Bewitched
“her reflection captivates me
her darkness teaches me
her essence fills me
her light calms me
her soul caresses me...
she is my fascination
she is is my art
she is my glow
she is my love
she is my dance”
Source: Bodhi Smith Impressionist Photography
“Her regularly squared and french-tipped nails were dangerously chipped and jagged, and she touched her platinum hair so often that it had started to look like the kinked bristles of an overused toothbrush.”
Source: The Watchmaker's Doctor
“Her religious beliefs went first, for all she could ask of a god, or of immortality, was the gift of a place where daughters love their mothers; the other attributes of Heaven you could have for a song.”
Source: The Bridge of San Luis Rey
“Her remarkable benevolence pierced Gawain with such potent spirit that she utterly enchanted him.”
“Her reputation as a cook spread without her knowledge- for the soups she brought to the bakery in a lidded tin for her midday meal, for her stews, for the scraps of dough that she turned into what the Russians called pelmeni and the Jews kreplach, dumplings stuffed with chopped meat and onions. She prepared hot borscht with beef in winter, shchi or cold borscht in summer, chicken cooked with prunes or a tsimmes with sweet potatoes, carrots and prunes.”
Source: Up from Orchard Street
“Her resistance mattered no longer: a deflowering was as binding as marriage vows.”
Source: The Song of Achilles
“Her romances often seemed like dalliances; she enjoyed male company and blossomed in its presence, but she did not appear to care deeply about any of the men [Steiner]”
Source: Pain, Parties, Work: Sylvia Plath in New York, Summer 1953
“Her room was warm and lightsome. A huge doll sat with her legs apart in the copious easy-chair beside the bed. He tried to bid his tongue speak that he might seem at ease, watching her as she undid her gown, noting the proud conscious movements of her perfumed head.
As he stood silent in the middle of the room she came over to him and embraced him gaily and gravely. Her round arms held him firmly to her and he, seeing her face lifted to him in serious calm and feeling the warm calm rise and fall of her breast, all but burst into hysterical weeping. Tears of joy and relief shone in his delighted eyes and his lips parted though they would not speak.
She passed her tinkling hand through his hair, calling him a little rascal.
—Give me a kiss, she said.
His lips would not bend to kiss her. He wanted to be held firmly in her arms, to be caressed slowly, slowly, slowly. In her arms he felt that he had suddenly become strong and fearless and sure of himself. But his lips would not bend to kiss her.
With a sudden movement she bowed his head and joined her lips to his and he read the meaning of her movements in her frank uplifted eyes. It was too much for him. He closed his eyes, surrendering himself to her, body and mind, conscious of nothing in the world but the dark pressure of her softly parting lips. They pressed upon his brain as upon his lips as though they were the vehicle of a vague speech; and between them he felt an unknown and timid pressure, darker than the swoon of sin, softer than sound or odour.”
Source: A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man
“Her round, mascara-streaked face looked back at him out of the rear window. He forced a grin and a wave before lighting another cigarette, and reflecting that Lucy's idea of sympathty compared unfavourably with some of the interrogation techniques they had used at Guantanamo.”
“Her sabah farklı bir sabaha da uyanabilirsin aynı sabaha da! Sabah, senin zihnine göre şekillenir; hayat, senin zihnine göre şekillenir! Sabahı da öğleni de akşamı da şekillendirecek olan senin zihnindir! Aynı günü de farklı günü de yaratan sensin!”
“Her sabah karanlığa karşı bir devrimdir!”
“Her sabah savaştığım,karmakarışık saçlarımı düşünüyorum.Yaşamım boyunca,dolaşık saçlarımı fırçalayıp açmak için saatler harcadım ama saçlarımı ne kadar özenle tutamlara ayırmaya çalışsam da hemen dolaşıveriyorlar.Açılması olanaksız bir hale gelinceye kadar birbirlerine giriyorlar.Bazen makası kapıp oracıkta düğümü kesmekten başka elden bir şey gelmiyor.Ama insanlardan oluşan bir düğümü nasıl kesebilirsiniz ki?”
Source: The Thing About Jellyfish
“her sabah uyanmana
görülmeyen kılcal çatlaklara
yüzündeki et parçasını yirmiyedi yıldır orada durduğunu hatırlat.”
Source: Kontrollü Patlama
“Her sad eyes, they were full of wonderful stories.”
“Her sadness makes her impossibly beautiful, like snow blanketing a barren landscape.”
Source: Legend
“Her sadness was an ecstasy, a guilt, an assignation.”
Source: The Heavens
“Her sadness was like a deep well just beneath the surface of her determination.”
Source: Upon Destiny's Song
“Her safety for my honour. Are you happy with your trade?'
'There is no honour in betraying your friends.”
Source: The Song of Achilles
“Her safety is my utmost concern as well..." John started.
"You have no idea," Mr Bennet said under his breath. John ignored him.”
Source: A Girl Named Digit
“Her sandwiches were beyond delicious. Pimento cheese, smoked meatloaf, egg salad, roast beef and remoulade, honey butter biscuits and fried chicken… Folks lived for her food.”
Source: Sugar and Salt
“Her sanity was a fragile thing, a butterfly cupped in her hands, that she carried with her everywhere, afraid of what would happen if she let it go-or got careless and crushed it.”
Source: NOS4R2
“Her satellite made one full orbit around Planet Earth every sixteen hours. It was a prison that came with an endlessly breathtaking view— vast blue oceans and swirling clouds and sunrises that set half the world on fire.”
Source: Cress
“Her satisfaction with the band was still a warm glow in her belly, but Melinda’s response had tempered it. She could not say something was wrong, but all the same she could no longer abandon herself to the utter certainty that everything was right.”
Source: Gossamer Axe