H Quotes
Browse famous quotes beginning with H. This page is a child index of the full Popular Quotes A-Z directory.
“His father often mentioned young and old. He'd said it was to remind himself to put things into perspective. To remember that he was starting to age. His black curly hair, which he passed on, had begun to gray Ironically, his mustache had beaten his hair and beard to it, losing all of its black sheen in favor of silver. Even his eyes seemed a little less blue as the days went on.
Even though he knew his father was aging, in moments like those, as he smiled showing him a photograph of a bright light in the shape of a person, he often thought his father was younger. He could look past the slight wrinkle of his skin and the color of his veins that he couldn't see a year before.”
Source: Crystal Storm: Battleground
“His father, putter in hand, on the fourteenth green at Killarney, dark glasses and spats, sunburned with August laughter”
Source: My Father's House
“His father’s face hardens and he looks at me. Something in his face changes, but it’s gone before I could point out what exactly it was. “And who is this?”
“She-“ Alex pulls me to him and backs away, ”-is none of your business.”
We start to walk but his father grabs my upper arm and stops me in place. I recoiled at his touch. Alex steps forward, his face furious as he rips his father’s hand off my arm, “Don’t you dare touch her-“ Alex hisses hatefully at him,”- don’t you fucking dare.”
Source: Love Revisited
“His father's last word, which Sean had never told anyone, not even his mother, hadn't been goodbye: it had been hello. He hadn't died; he'd been set free from the constraints of history and flesh. And while the fathers of other children could only be the people they were, and were forced to live the lives they'd made for themselves, the Philip Steiner of his son's daydreams was all the possible versions of himself that Sean could imagine. He was always near, always ready to listen, always offering solace. He was all the possible fathers. He was a dragonslayer and a titan of industry; he was a cunning detective and a grizzled gunfighter; he was an astronaut and a priest and a jailer of thieves. He lived in the shadows, and he filled his son's world with light.”
Source: Version Control
“His father said nothing. Instead, he looked straight at Tengo as if he were reading a bulletin written in a foreign language."
1Q84, Murakami”
“His father saw him off. Demon had dyed his hair a blacker black. He wore a diamond ring blazing like a Caucasian ridge. His long, black, blue-ocellated wings trailed and quivered in the ocean breeze. Lyudi oglyadïvalis’ (people turned to look). A temporary Tamara, all kohl, kabesk rouge, and flamingo-boa, could not decide what would please her demon lover more—just moaning and ignoring his handsome son or acknowledging bluebeard’s virility in morose Van, who could not stand her Caucasian perfume, Granial Maza, seven dollars a bottle.”
Source: Ada, or Ardor: A Family Chronicle
“His father smiles, all the lines in his face collapsing, but this time, the map they draw leads to a quiet joy.”
Source: Blackpines: The Antlers Witch: The Girl Who Grew Antlers
“His father, that austere, unfeeling and untutored man, had insisted his sons polish their boots every evening. Flett has learned to be grateful for this early discipline. It kept him breathing as a boy, provided a pulse, gave order to vast incomprehension. Later he found other ways.”
Source: The Stone Diaries
“His father used to accuse his mother of not being able to let anything go. She needed to learn to put the past behind her, instead of dwelling on what couldn't be changed. "Don't be like your mother," he warned Cole, "unless you want to be depressed.”
Source: Salvation City
“His father used to tell him that you can't eat principles. And no, you couldn't. But you could live by them.”
Source: Dustrunner
“His father was an ass and he is an ass. I imagine sooner than I should like I shall be playing uncle to a litter of asses.”
Source: Raventide
“His father was an epileptic, and his sister was an imbecile.”
Source: Psychopathia Sexualis: A Medico-Legal Study
“His father was no man's friend but his own, and he is no man's for else.”
“His father was self-made, but his mother was constructed by others, and such edifices are notoriously fragile.”
Source: Alias Grace: A Novel
“His father watched him across the gulf of years and pathos which always must divide a father from his son.”
Source: THE LATE GEORGE APLEY
“His father whispered to his son to pay him no heed as the shaman had once told him he would have many beautiful wives and grow a long penis, both of which had never happened.”
“His father's made us paint half this town and if we stick around any longer he'll make us paint the rest of it." -Jonah Griggs”
“His favorite aspect was an engraving above the door in a room with mulberry fruit-and-leaf wallpaper; the room was on the ground floor with large windows set into the back wall that made it seem almost part of the garden it overlooked. The engraving read, TRUTH, BEAUTY, LIGHT, and Edward could not stop staring at it in wonder and saying, "You see, this house was meant for me.”
Source: The Clockmaker's Daughter
“His favorite feature should have been her mind.”
“His fear came from needing her. It was the danger to her life that frightened him.”
“His fear-inflamed mind sent the control-signal to his finger-joint to fold back. The trigger sliced back. The blast seemed to lift the booth clear off the floor, drop it down again. A pin-wheel of vacancy appeared in the glass, flinging off shards and slivers.”
Source: Marihuana
“His fear may have been race-related. You’d have to ask him. To me, a law-abiding citizen is a law-abiding citizen, regardless of race. So yes, I believe the result would have been different had I been the officer. I don’t believe I’d have pulled this couple over in the first place.”
Source: Betrayal In Black
“His fearless attack on both ends of the court galvanized the team.”
“His features made him look striking, and I wondered if that was actually his personality.”
Source: Itchikan: 'til death do us part'
“His feelings are warm, but I can imagine them rather changeable.”
Source: Emma
“his feelings as to a first, strong attachment; sentences begun which he could not finish, his half averted eyes and more than half expressive glance; all, all declared that he had a heart returning to her at least; that anger, resentment, avoidance, were no more; and that they were succeeded, not merely by friendship or regard, but by the tenderness of the past. Yes, some share of the tenderness of the past. she could not contemplate the change as implying less. He must love her.”
Source: Persuasion
“His feelings for Adam were an oil spill; he'd let them overflow and now there wasn't a damn place in the ocean that wouldn't catch fire if he dropped a match.”
Source: The Raven King
“His feelings were confused; he wanted to grasp till Alexander's very bones were somehow engulfed within himself, but knew this to be wicked and mad; he would kill anyone who harmed a hair of his head.”
Source: fire from heaven
“His feelings were too much for speech, and suddenly he broke down.”
Source: Heart of Darkness
“His fielding leaves you wondering. Then he steps up to hit and all doubts start to fade.”
“His fierce appreciation of female beauty, the unrelenting desire he felt for their company, the pleasure he both derived and sought to give, had led him in and out of quite a few bedroom doors.”
Source: Matters of Convenience
“His finest hour lasted a minute and a half.”
“His finger flicked open a button on my cardigan-then two, three, four. It tumbled off my shoulders, leaving me in my camisole. He pushed up the hem, teasing and stroking his thumb across my stomach. My breath came in a sharp intake of air.”
Source: Silence
“His fingerprints covered my skin.”
“His fingers brush the palm of my hand as he gives me the gift. Interlocking silver chains sparkle with chips of sapphire the same color as my hair, and my smile is as wide as a fringehead's when I look back up at him.
"It's an anklet," I say.
"Wear it," he says. "Make all the other Mermaids wish for a pair of legs.”
Source: The Mermaid's Tale
“His fingers closed into a fist, crushing Sansa’s letter between them. “And she says nothing of Arya, nothing, not so much as a word. Damn her! What’s wrong with the girl?”
Bran felt all cold inside. “She lost her wolf,” he said, weakly, remembering the day when four of his father’s guardsmen had returned from the south with Lady’s bones. (...) She had gone south, and only her bones had returned.”
Source: A Game of Thrones
“His fingers come to my chin, tilting my head so I am looking up into his black eyes, the rage in them as hot as coals. 'You just think I ought to. That I can. That's I'd be good at it. Very well, Jude. Tell me how it's done. Do you think she'd like it if I came to her like this, if I looked deeply in to her eyes?'
My whole body is alert, alive with sick desire, embarrassing in its intensity.
He knows, I know he knows.
'Probably,' I say, my voice coming out a little shakily. 'Whatever it is you usually do.'
'Oh, come now,' he says, his voice full of barely controlled fury. 'If you want me to play the bawd, at least give me the benefit of your advice.'
His beringed fingers trace over my cheek, trace the line of my lip and down my throat. I feel dizzy and overwhelmed. 'Should I took her like this?' he asks, lashes lowered. The shadows limn his face, casting his cheekbones in to stark relief.
'I don't know,' I say, but my voice betrays me. It's all wrong, high and breathless.
He presses his mouth to my ear, kissing me there. His hands skim over my shoulders, making me shiver. 'And then like this? Is this how I ought to seduce her?' I can feel his mouth shape the light words against my skin. 'Do you think it would work?'
I dig my fingernails in to the meat of my palm to keep from moving against him. My whole body is trembling with tension. 'Yes.'
Then his mouth is against mine, and my lips part. I close my eyes against what I'm about to do. My fingers reach up to tangle in the black curls of his hair. He doesn't kiss me as though he's angry; his kiss is soft, yearning.
Everything slows, goes liquid and hot. I can barely think.
I've wanted this and feared it, and now that it's happening, I don't know how I will ever want anything else.”
Source: The Wicked King
“His fingers dug into her thighs. He'd never wanted to throw caution to the wind so bad in his life.”
Source: Willfully Wanton
“His fingers entered the cleft between her thighs with a gentle twist that made her quiver. He reached far inside the depths of her, exploring with subtle, diabolical knowledge. "You'll make it up to me," he murmured. "Won't you?"
"Yes... yes..." And her lips parted against his chest in a sigh of pleasure.”
Source: Stranger in My Arms
“His fingers, frozen in midfidget on his good knee, said
PEOPLE AREN'T SUPPOSED TO ASK ME THAT.
Either that or
I HAVE JUST BEEN SHOT THROUGH THE PAPER SCREEN.
He wasn't bleeding.”
Source: Forget You
“His fingers leave streaks of cold on my skin, invisible to the eye, and I think about wrapping his shirt around my fist and pulling him in to kiss me; I think about pressing myself against him, but I can't, because all our secrets would keep a space between us.”
“His fingers lightly grazed my cheek. "I didn't know you before. When you're not there, I can't concentrate. I'm wondering where you are, what you're doing...if you're there and I can see you, I can see you, I can focus. I know it's crazy, but that's how it is."
"And crazy is exactly the way I like it," I said, leaning up to kiss his lips.
"Obviously," America muttered under breath.”
Source: Beautiful Disaster
“His fingers never ceased to amaze me. They could break a man's neck, bandage a wound, and slide sensually across bare skin.”
Source: Vampire Academy: The Complete Collection
“His fingers painted my skin with ruby red patterns of desire. In Keahi’s kiss I could taste the red burn of chili encrusted in the rich sweetness of melted chocolate. I breathed in his scent and it spoke to me of vanilla. The ink of my malu tattoo began to burn, searing markings of fiery joy.”
Source: When Water Burns
“His fingers scuttled across the throne's haptic surfaces, adjusting, deleting, moving, impelling.
Writing history, touch by touch.”
Source: Saturnine
“His fingers skimmed down her body, over skin and satin, and she shivered, leaning into him, and she was sure they both tasted like blood and ashes and salt, but it didn't matter; the world, the city, and all it's lights and life seemed to have narrowed down to this, just her and Jace, the burning heart of a frozen world.”
Source: City of Fallen Angels
“His fingers slide into my hair, and I hold on to his arms to stay steady as we press together like two blades at a stalemate. He is stronger than anyone I know, and warmer than anyone else realizes; he is a secret that I have kept, and will keep for the rest of my life.”
“His fingers tightened on mine, and I looked up. He was smiling at me. And looked so un-High-Lord-like with the glowing dust on the side of his face that I grinned back.
I hadn’t even realized what I’d done until his own smile faded, and his mouth parted slightly.
“Smile again,” he whispered.”
Source: A Court of Mist and Fury
“His fingers unhooked from hers, following that same path up her arm, and then back down it again. The feeling was so distracting, so good, so sweet against her clammy skin. She didn't choose a piece from her repertoire; Etta gave herself over to the notes that started streaming through her mind, rising from somewhere deep inside of her.
The melody of her heart had no name; it was quick, and light. It rolled with the waves, falling as the breath left his chest, rising as he inhaled. It was the rain sliding down the glass; the fog spreading its fingers over the water. The creaking of a ship's great body. The secrets whispered by the wind, and the unseen life that moved below.
It was the flame against the candle.
Nicholas's arm was a map of hard muscles and delicate sinews, heartbreakingly perfect. She wondered if he could hear her humming the piece against his skin over the droning roars overhead. Maybe. His free hand skimmed up her skin, leaving a trail of sparks in its wake.
With the world blacked out around them, she could catalog all over her senses, capture this moment in the warm darkness forever. He brushed back the loose hair across her forehead, cheek, the corner of her lips, her jaw, and she knew it had to be the same for him, that they'd never been so aware of another person in their entire lives.
She released his arm, and he drew it up around her, guiding both of them down so they were on their sides, their heads cushioned by the bag, his jacket drawn over them. Etta understood that here, in the darkness, they'd found a place beyond rules; a place that hung somewhere between the past and the future. This was a single moment of possibility.
The clattering of the attack from above faded as he rested his forehead against hers, his thumb lightly stroking a bruise on her cheek. She traced his face - the straight nose, the high, proud cheekbones, the full curve of his lips. His hand caught her there, taking it in his own; he pressed a hard, almost despairing kiss to it.
But when she tilted her face up, half - desperate with longing, her blood racing, Nicholas pulled back; and although Etta could feel him beside her, his heart pounding, his ragged breath, it was as if he had disappeared into the thundering dark.”
Source: Passenger
“His fingers wrapped around the smooth metal handle, and he eased the knife from its sweat-patinaed leather sheath and weaved the blade skillfully through the air. While it didn't have the impression of a Fae-forged blade, he did feel something alive within the mortal steel as if the old blade had drunk deeply of blood and continued to thirst.”
Source: Fairytale Apocalypse