H Quotes
Browse famous quotes beginning with H. This page is a child index of the full Popular Quotes A-Z directory.
“His need had been so strong it frightened him because they almost sensed each other’s pain. They were kindred spirits.”
Source: Crossbones
“His need was to exist, and to move onwards at the greatest possible risk, and with maximum of privation. If the absolutely pure, uncalculating, unpractical spirit of adventure had ever ruled a human being, it ruled this bepatched youth.”
Source: Heart of Darkness
“His neigh is like the bidding of a monarch, and his countenance enforces homage. He is indeed a horse.”
Source: The Wars of the Roses In Plain and Simple English: Includes Henry VI Parts 1 - 3 & Richard III, Richard II, Henry IV Parts 1 and 2, and Henry V
“His neighbor is a tooth-drawer. That bag at his girdle is full of the teeth that he drew at Winchester fair. I warrant that there are more sound ones than sorry, for he is quick at his work and a trifle dim in the eye.”
Source: The White Company: Sherlock Holmes Collections
“His nerve, his memory, and I can't remember the third thing.”
“His new manager needed help tonight. Were you disappointed he wasn't there?"
"No," I answered quickly. Probably too quickly. Dammit, I missed pre-Braden Joss. "I just noticed a lack of ego in the room and thought 'hey, where's Braden?”
Source: On Dublin Street
“His New Year’s resolution for 2000 was to focus on ways he could make every encounter with every person a positive experience.”
Source: The Lifer and the Lawyer: A Story of Punishment, Penitence, and Privilege
“His noise is getting quieter, but I can still see it there still-
See how he feels the skin of my hand against his, see how he wants to take it and press it against his mouth, how he wants to breathe in the smell of me and how beautiful I look to him, how strong after all that illness, and how he wants to just lightly touch my neck, just there, and how he wants to take me in his arms and-
"Oh, God," he says, looking away suddenly. "Viola, I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"
But I just put my hand to the back of his neck-
And he says, "Viola-?"
And I pull myself towards him-
And I kiss him.
And it feels like, finally.”
Source: Monsters of Men
“His nostrils flared and he couldn't wait any longer. He lifted her bodily, moving her farther up on the bed, placing her head and shoulders against the pillows, and then pushed up her chemise, crawling between her spread thighs and settling to enjoy what he'd found.
There. There she was, her pretty, pretty pink cunny, all coral lips and wispy dark-blond curls. He hiked her trembling legs over his arms, ignoring her gasp of shocked surprise. He glanced up at once and saw wide, wondering eyes gazing back at him. Her gentlemanly first husband had evidently never done this to her.
More fool he.
Then he bent and feasted.
His nose pressed into her mound, inhaling her woman's scent, his cock grinding hard into the bed, his tongue licking into tart and salt and her.
Oh God, her.
She squealed at his first touch and tried to squirm away, but he held her fast with his hands on her hips. He almost smiled against her tender flesh, his teeth scraping oh so gently. She might be startled, might be outraged and shocked, but she liked it.
Perhaps even loved it- what he was doing to her.
She was moaning now, low in her throat, making little mewling sounds, so erotic and sweet, her hips twitching against his lips, trying to get more. He opened his mouth, covering her, breathing over her. He stiffened his tongue and speared into her as far as he could reach, his jaw aching. She cried out at that and he felt fingers tangling in his hair.
He withdrew his tongue and moved to her clitoris, taking the small bit of flesh gently between his teeth and pulling. She froze, trembling all over, and he could hear her gasping breaths. He opened his mouth and licked her. Softly. Tenderly.
Thoroughly.
And at the same time he shoved two fingers into her, feeling her wet walls contract against his knuckles, smelling the rise of her arousal.
She arched under him, her soft thighs thrashing restlessly, making no sound, but he knew.
He knew.
He curled the fingers inside her and stroked her wet, silky inner walls as he pulled them back.
Then he shoved them again into her, hard and firm, repeating the motion as he suckled her clitoris.
She moaned- loud in the quiet room- and pushed against him, and he felt her tremble and suddenly grow wetter. She shuddered helplessly and he was drunk on her release, his cock a heavy, near-painful throb.
He turned his head and kissed the inside of her soft thigh, listening to her pant.”
Source: Duke of Desire
“His nostrils flared, he was breathing like a picadored bull.”
Source: Maniac Magee
“His novel, a work he had wrestled with, on and off, for almost three years, he had finally abandoned after one page. The novel was derivative of a poem Gold had written seven years before that was itself derived from a brilliant exegesis by a young Englishman of the works of Samuel Beckett that Gold wished he'd written himself.”
Source: Good as Gold
“His novel or book of poems, decent, adequate, arises not from an exercise of style or will, as the poor unfortunate believes, but as the result of an exercise of concealment. There must be many books, many lovely pines, to shield from hungry eyes the book that really matters, the wretched cave of our misfortune, the magic flower of winter!”
Source: 2666
“His number of physical and mental scars
has grew and he wasted number of years and saw them just passing through in terror. He was unable to see the clear future. They made him live in constant uneasiness, nervousness, horror, panic and terror. They left him broken, battered and bruised. His number of physical and mental scars has grew and he wasted number of years and saw them just passing through in terror.
He was unable to see the clear future. They erased his memories and hope and turn against him, It was difficult for him to escape the darkness. It was impossible for him to defend against their attack. One day he met one girl who was light in his darkness. He took her dreams away and feed on her love."
- Shwin J Brad”
Source: Mindfulness and stress relief
“His oath is an oath; it does not change because of circumstances. In the face of fortune or adversity, he honours his commitment with unwavering integrity, for he understands that true character is revealed not in ease—a man of absolute loyalty and honesty.”
Source: A Man of Valour: Idioms and Epigrams
“His odds don’t really matter if he’s not going to win.”
Source: Zekel
“His office was a spider’s lair of silver thread and tempting promises, a page out of Power Architecture Magazine. The dean copied the design from President Lyndon Johnson’s old senate office. The room narrowed toward his desk, an architectural device that channeled all eyes toward the dean, and his chair was slightly elevated, forcing visitors to look up. The two visitors’ chairs were both lowered and oversized, making each guest feel like a child, swimming in too much chair. His architect had assured him it was a subliminal masterpiece.”
“His office was done in the same beige and green tones and the walls were covered with abstract art which lent color, but no meaning, to his surroundings.”
Source: Stardust
“his old life lay behind in the mists, dark adventure lay in front.”
Source: The Lord of the Rings: One Volume
“His old right hand lay nerveless, listless, dead, Unsceptred; and his realmless eyes were closed.”
Source: Complete Poems
“His older self had taught his younger self a language which the older self knew because the younger self, after being taught, grew up to be the older self and was, therefore, capable of teaching.”
Source: The Green Hills of Earth and The Menace from Earth
“His Omnipotence means power to do all that is intrinsically possible, not to do the intrinsically impossible. You may attribute miracles to Him, but not nonsense. This is no limit to His power. If you choose to say, ‘God can give a creature free will and at the same time withhold free will from it,’ you have not succeeded in saying anything about God: meaningless combinations of words do not suddenly acquire meaning simply because we prefix to them the two other words, 'God can.' It remains true that all things are possible with God: the intrinsic impossibilities are not things but nonentities. It is no more possible for God than for the weakest of His creatures to carry out both of two mutually exclusive alternatives; not because His power meets an obstacle, but because nonsense remains nonsense even when we talk it about God.”
Source: The Problem of Pain
“His one fault, if you may call it so, was that he kept silent in the presence of evil when speech would not remedy it.”
Source: I, Claudius
“His only blemish was the frown he constantly wore on his face. His lips rarely held a smile. If only he knew how beautiful his smile was and how it made her heart beat.”
Source: My Wife, My Man?
“His only fault is that he has no fault.”
“His only means of discovering how his body functions is to take bodies apart, as a child might dismantle a mechanical toy. The child's aim is not to fathom the functions of mechanics itself, but to find answers to the riddle of its own existence.
Analogously, the unresolved question that underlies the soldier male's impotent attempts to gain mastery over objects by tearing them apart, and thus rendering them knowable, seems to be that of the construction of his own self— a question which acquires tremendous explosive force in a body never rendered capable of experiencing itself in relation to other bodies. The soldier male cannot know what impels him to tear out his own entrails, what moves him to spill his own contents in an effort to discover what species of being he may be.”
Source: Male Fantasies, Vol. 2: Male Bodies - Psychoanalyzing the White Terror
“His only real financial failure came at the age of thirteen when, in an uncharacteristic error of judgement, he invested £200,000 of his own savings in wooden socks, an invention that never caught on as he had hoped.”
Source: Shadow of the Badger
“His orgasm was short, doubled and tripled with a quick convulsion, so private, so disciplined that he made no cry, no whisper, no exhortation.”
Source: In the Cut
“His other hand finds my cheek, and he wipes away my tears with his thumb. The chocolate scent overwhelms me as he bends over and whispers in my ear, “No, Cassie. No, no, no.”
I throw my arm around his neck and press his dry cheek against my wet one. I’m shaking like an epileptic, and for the first time I can feel the weight of the quilts on the top of my toes because the blinding dark sharpens your other senses.
I’m a bubbling stew of random thoughts and feelings. I’m worried my hair might smell. I want some chocolate. This guy holding me—well, it’s more like I was holding him—has seen me in all my naked glory. What did he think about my body? What did I think about my body? Does God really care about promises? Do I really care about God? Are miracles something like the Red Sea parting or more like Evan Walker finding me locked in a block of ice in a wilderness of white?
“Cassie, it’s going to be okay,” he whispers into my ear, chocolate breath.”
Source: The 5th Wave
“His outflung hands traced over the threads of his rug, passed loop by loop through some patient woman's hands. Or maybe she hadn't been patient. Maybe she'd been tired, or irritated, or distracted, or hungry, or angry. Maybe she had been dying. But her hands had kept moving, all the same.”
“His overriding life necessity was not love, it was his profession…He had come to medicine not by coincidence or calculation but by a deep inner desire. Insofar as it is possible to divide people into categories, the surest criterion is the deep-seated desires that orient them to one or another lifelong activity. Every Frenchman is different. But all the actors the world over are similar.”
“His own beliefs being simple in comparison; the God he was familiar with dished out regular and doubtless deserved punishment and every once in a while, took pity on him, moreover resembling a relationship he once had with his nursemaid.”
Source: The Angel and the Apothecary
“His own character is the arbiter of every ones fortune.”
“His own dragon roared in turmoil in his head: protect her, crush her. Her kind is evil. Protect your mate. Slippery is the water dragon. His dragon roared the ancient saying, and the tips of his wings pushed again at his back.
You are starting to piss me off, he said to her.”
Source: Dragon Her Back
“His own enjoyment, or his own ease, was, in every particular, his ruling principle.”
Source: The Complete Novels of Jane Austen
“His own faith, however, was not lacking in virtues since it consisted in acknowledging obscurely that he would be granted much without ever deserving anything.”
Source: Collected fiction
“His own government, suing him, that's not Chocolate Sundae!”
“His own image; no longer a dark, gray bird, ugly and disagreeable to look at, but a graceful and beautiful swan. To be born in a duck's nest, in a farmyard, is of no consequence to a bird, if it is hatched from a swan's egg.”
Source: The Ugly Duckling
“His own life seemed so solitary, a fragile column supporting nothing amidst the wreckage of the years.”
Source: Collected Stories of Carson McCullers
“His own naivety taunted him like a flicker of madness.”
“His own opinion, which he does not air, is that the origin of speech lie in song, and the origins of song in the need to fill out with sound the overlarge and rather empty human soul.”
Source: Disgrace
“His own parents, the estimable Gilchrists, a couple who had taken the 'till death' part of their own wedding vows so seriously he wouldn't be surprised if they one day throttled one another, had naturally wangled the next best seat in the house: row two, on the aisle.”
Source: A Night with the Society Playboy
“His own true hidden reality that he had desired to know grew palpable, recognizable. It seemed to him just this: a great, glad, abounding hope that he had saved his brother; too expansive to be contained by the limited form of a sole man, it yearned for a new embodiment infinite as the stars.
What did it matter to that true reality that the man's brain shrank, shrank, till it was nothing; that the man's body could not retain the huge pain of his heart, and heaved it out through the red exit riven at the neck: that hurtling blackness blotted out forever the man's sight, hearing, sense?”
Source: The Were-Wolf
“His own voice was older than he was. Ancient, unearthed from some mystical subterranean place...The voice seemed to make his whole body ache. Maybe it made him bleed inside. I wondered if it hurt, if it burned in his throat.”
“His pace is slow, the drag of his cock against the ribbed walls of her pussy excruciatingly delightful. He continues to mark her delicate skin, works up a sweat to see her so completely undone. Open-mouthed kisses mix the sounds of their languid groans, their animalistic grunts, their passionate pleas for more please fuck more.
Suddenly emboldened, Eden hooks a leg over his hip and uses the momentum to roll them over. She looks like a fucking goddess riding him, hair a beautiful mess as her perfect tits bounce with her movements. She rolls her hips, coming down on his shaft in a way that nearly leaves him blind with ecstasy.
"You're so fucking beautiful, Eden."
"God, you feel so good."
"You like fucking yourself on my cock?"
"Yes, Shang. You make me so--- ngh--- fucking wet."
"I'm going to make you scream my name. Let's see if we can piss off the neighbors, hm?"
Eden leans forward, the new angle nearly sending him straight over the edge. She presses her forehead to his, their breaths ricocheting off each other's cheeks.
"Eden---"
"I want you to come," she mewls. "I want you to come. I want to make you feel good."
"I'm really close."
"Me, too. Oh, God, I'm---"
He grabs her by the waist and rapidly fucks up into her, snapping his hips and burying himself deep inside. The delicious friction sends them both hurtling, the tight coil in the pit of his stomach exploding like a million fireworks all at once. It's the sound she makes that he truly delights in, a half-sob, half-gasp as her climax rushes through her.
They ride the high together, eventually falling limp in each other's arms.”
Source: Knives, Seasoning, & A Dash of Love
“His pacing stopped. The mattress sighed as he sat on the edge. seconds ticked by before he spoke so softly she could barely hear. "Sometimes I want to leave this town so bad I can taste it.”
“His pagan barbarity, his explosive and angrily defiant melancholy, his demoniacal instinct . . . these are all echoes . . . of the thousand-year-old Hungarian psyche.”
“His pain hurt me in a way I'd never felt before. It was worse than my own pain. My strength wavered. I felt completely powerless.”
Source: Breaking Point
“His palace was a tent, his throne a saddle.”
Source: The World of Ice & Fire: The Untold History of Westeros and the Game of Thrones
“His palm presses against my cheek, stroking away stray strands of hair, “Eve, I’ve never been so scared. The thought that I’d never get to see you again, to apologise for the way I treated you, I couldn’t bear it. When they dragged you out I was so relieved, knowing that I had a chance to get you back.” He squeezes me tightly against his body as he admits, “I can’t lose you Eve. Them taking you made everything so clear. I love you and I thought I wasn’t going to get the chance to prove how much. I couldn’t let that happen.”
Source: Absolution
“His palms are sweaty, knees weak, arms are heavy
There's vomit on his sweater already, mom's spaghetti
He's nervous, but on the surface he looks calm and ready
To drop bombs, but he keeps on forgettin'
What he wrote down, the whole crowd goes so loud
He opens his mouth, but the words won't come out
He's chokin', how, everybody's jokin' now
The clocks run out, times up, over, blaow!”