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T Quotes

Browse famous quotes beginning with T. This page is a child index of the full Popular Quotes A-Z directory.

All T Quotes

“Turks, like Russians and Israelites, seem to want you to see the things that show you how they have got on since Atatürk, or since the Bolshevik revolution, or since they took over Palestine. But how people have got on is actually only interesting to the country which has got on. What foreign visitors care about are the things that were there before they began to get on. I dare say foreigners in England really only want to see Stonehenge, and Roman walls and villas, and the field under which Silchester lies buried, and Norman castles and churches, and the ruins of medieval abbeys, and don't care a bit about Sheffield and Birmingham, or our model farms and new towns and universities and schools and dams and aerodromes and things.”

“Turn around. I want you to come in my mouth." "Are we about to... sixty-nine?" Nina asked. He hesitated before replying, "Like it's twenty sixty-nine." She laughed, then positioned herself over him, the wisps of her hair teasing him. Before he could taste her, he felt her mouth meet his cock again. His hips arched up to her, and she took in the full length of him until he was buried deep in her mouth. "That's so fucking good," he said. But he didn't linger long; he had to taste her. He reached his hands up to grab her ass, and he gently pressed her down until her pussy was directly over his mouth. His tongue reached for her clit, and he drew her bud in. He nibbled at the tip of her and felt her buck against him. He could tell she liked the pressure, so he took her in again and again. Rolling his tongue over and around her clit in playful circles while sucking her into his mouth. Her hips began to rock as she bobbed her mouth up and down his cock and rode his mouth with her pussy. He squeezed her ass as he focused on her clit, not releasing her or letting up on the pressure he could tell she was responding to. "Leo, I'm so close," she said. Then returned her mouth to his cock. He rolled his tongue as he sucked more on her clit. She stilled over him, and her legs tightened. He held her still so he could continue to pleasure her as she moaned and finished on him.”

“Turn around… you’ve got grass and dead flowers…” My fingers naturally began to comb through my long, black strands, shaking things loose as Sarti carefully removed more stubborn pieces. The flowers were left over from my forced marriage to Thaddeus. The grass, from a sensual night with Kresh on an eve of my honeymoon. Devilish irony.”

“Turn around, and the people you thought you knew might change. Your little boy might now live half a world away. Your beautiful daughter might be sneaking out at night. Your ex-husband might by dying by degrees. This is the reason that dancers learn, early on, how to spot while doing pirouettes: we all want to be able to find the place where we started.”

“Turn, Fortune, turn thy wheel and lower the proud; Turn thy wild wheel thro' sunshine, storm and cloud; Thy wheel and thee we neither love nor hate. Turn, Fortune, turn thy wheel with smile or frown; With that wild wheel we go not up or down; Our hoard is little, but our hearts are great. Smile and we smile, the lords of many lands; Frown and we smile, the lords of our own hands; For man is man and master of his fate. Turn, turn thy wheel above the staring crowd; Thy wheel and thou are shadows in the cloud; Thy wheel and thee we neither love nor hate. - "Enid's Song", The Marriage of Geraint”

“Turn. I want to look at you," he ordered. "Why?" "Because you are beautiful and I want you." Dear God. He spoke like he moved: quick, purposeful. His delivery made everything sound true and right and... 'sensible.' Which was dangerous indeed, as the last thing this was meant to be was sensible. He'd undressed with startling alacrity while she was facing her door, and she hardly knew where to look first. She knew he meant it, because she could see in his fierce eyes and the swift rise and fall of his shoulders, and his hard cock, thick and large and curving up toward his belly, how much he wanted her. And he stared, drinking her in, and dear God, her knees went weaker still at the look in his eyes. She wanted to tell him, too, that he was beautiful, but it wasn't quite the right word. It seemed inadequate and perhaps not exactly true. He was overwhelmingly new to her, alien, and astoundingly... 'male'... his skin very fair, his body spare, all hard, lean muscle, his chest furred with dark hair, a trail of it following the seam of his ribs where his cock curved upward against his belly up from its nest of curling hair. His small, hard buttocks were almost comically white and muscular. She saw a few scars scattered over him. He saved her from the onslaught of sensations and impressions and from having to make a statement when he pulled her against his bare body. The feeling of his skin against hers, her hard nipples brushing his, was extraordinary; his skin was hot; he smelled wonderful and strange, of smoke and musk and something she was sure was uniquely his. He didn't want coy. She'd claimed she wasn't. And yet it was counter to her nature to let momentum take her, to surrender. She struggled with it, and he felt the tension in her body. "It's all right," he murmured into her ear, his breath, his voice, erotic, so persuasive, the voice of ultimate safety and ultimate danger. "I have you. 'Shhh,' now, Genevieve.”

“Turn in upon yourselves, get into your closets, and now resolve to dwell there. You have been strangers to this work too long; you have kept other vineyards too long; you have trifled about the borders of religion too long. Will you now resolve to look better to your hearts? Will you hate and come out of the crowds of business and clamors of the world and retire yourselves more than you have done? Oh, that this day you would resolve upon it!”