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Sheets Quotes

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Sheets Quotes

“He shifted over without comment, lifting the blankets, and I scrambled into the warm sheets beside him. He smelled like soap and sleep and bare skin. He smelled familiar. Not the deja vu familiar of Guy or Mel. Familiar like...the ache in your chest of homesickness, of longing for harbor after weeks of rough seas or craving a fire's warmth after snow--or wanting back something you should never have given away.”

ShouldGuyGivenSleepFireWeekSeaSkinsLongingWarmSnowFamiliarRoughChestsCommentWarmthSheetsAcheCravingSoapHarborsBlanketLiftingHomesicknessDeja VuBare SkinRough Seas
Author:Josh Lanyon
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“And weren't, when you got right down to it, particularly evil. Human beings mostly aren't. They just get carried away by new ideas, like dressing up in jackboots and shooting people, or dressing up in white sheets and lynching people, or dressing up in tie-dye jeans and and playing guitar at people. Offer people a new creed with a costume and their hearts and minds will follow.”

PeopleMindHumansHeartIdeasEvilHuman BeingsWhiteOffersGuitarShootingTiesCreedsNew IdeasSheetsJeansCostumesHeart And MindDressingsDressing UpCarried AwayOmenLynchingPlaying GuitarGood OmensTie Dye
Book:Good Omens: The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch
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“A bride, before a "Good-night" could be said, Should vanish from her clothes into her bed, As souls from bodies steal, and are not spied. But now she's laid; what though she be? Yet there are more delays, for where is he? He comes and passeth through sphere after sphere; First her sheets, then her arms, then anywhere. Let not this day, then, but this night be thine; Thy day was but the eve to this, O Valentine.”

ShouldFirstsSaidSoulBodyNightArmsBedClothesStealingThis DaySpheresSheetsValentineDelayBridesGood NightWedding Night
Book:The complete poems of John Donne
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“I envied women with signature hair-dos, signature perfumes, signature sign-offs. Novelists who tell Vogue Magazine: “I can’t live without my Smythson notebook, Pomegranate Noir cologne by Jo Malone and Frette sheets”. In the grip of madness, materialism begins to look like an admirable belief system.”

LooksI CanBeliefHairMadnessMagazinesNovelistsMaterialismSheetsPerfumeNotebookAdmirableSignaturesNoirBelief SystemsVogueEnviedColognePomegranatesVogue Magazine
Book:Your Voice in My Head
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“In moments Akiva was up in the ether, scarcely feeling the sting of ice crystals in the thin air. He let his glamour fall away, and his wings were like sheets of fire sweeping the black of the heavens. He moved at speed, onward toward another human city to find another doorway bitter with the devil's magic, and after that another, until all bore the black handprint....Once all the doors were marked, the end would begin. And it would begin with fire.”

HumansEndsMomentsFeelingsFallHeavenBlackCitiesFireDoorsMagicAirDevilMovedWingsSpeedBitterIceBoresSheetsCrystalsGlamourDoorwaysSweepingThin AirHandprints
Book:Daughter of Smoke and Bone: Daughter of Smoke and Bone Trilogy
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“...there was practically one handwriting common to the whole school when it came to writing lines. It resembled the movements of a fly that had fallen into an ink-pot, and subsequently taken a little brisk exercise on a sheet of foolscap by way of restoring the circulation.”

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Book:The Politeness of Princes: And Other School Stories: Easyread Super Large 20pt Edition
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“No one expects a woman busy at her sewing to pay attention to what’s being said around her. Nevermind if a man’s mother and sister showerd them they heard everything while they stictched, he’ll still think a woman who plies her needles saves all her brains for the work. You’re a far better spy hemming sheets than if you clank with daggers.”

IfsThinkingMenSaidStillsMotherPayAttentionBrainHeardBusyPay AttentionSheetsSpyNeedlesDaggersSewingPliesNevermind
Book:Trickster's Duet
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“Places do not lose their identity, however far one travels. It is the heart that begins to erode over time. The face in the hotel mirror seems blurred some mornings, as if by too many casual looks. By ten the sheets will be laundered, the carpet swept. The names on the hotel registers change as we pass. We leave no trace as we pass on. Ghostlike, we cast no shadow.”

IfsLooksHeartSeemsFacesNamesLosesMorningIdentityTenShadowMirrorsCastsHotelSheetsCarpetCasualRegisterErode
Author:Joanne Harris
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“For a long time he had been white smoke. He did not realize that until he left the hospital, because white smoke had no consciousness of itself. It faded into the white world of their bed sheets and walls; it was sucked away by the words of doctors who tried to talk to the invisible scattered smoke... They saw his outline but they did not realize it was hollow inside.”

WorldLongLeftRealizingWhiteConsciousnessSawsWallBedLong TimeDoctorsInvisibleSmokeHospitalsSheetsHollowDoctor WhoOutlinesFadedBed Sheets
Book:Ceremony
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“There were days, rainy gray days, when the streets of Brooklyn were worthy of a photograph, every window the lens of a Leica, the view grainy and immobile. We gathered our colored pencils and sheets of paper and drew like wild, feral children into the night, until, exhausted, we fell into bed. We lay in each other's arms, still awkward but happy, exchanging breathless kisses into sleep.”

ChildrenStillsNightSleepViewsStreetsArmsBedKissingPaperWindowLaysPhotographWorthyGrayAwkwardExhaustedSheetsPencilsLensesBrooklynRainyBreathlessExchangingLeicaGray Days
Author:Patti Smith
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“The kitten was six weeks old. It was enchanting, a delicate fairy-tale cat, whose Siamese genes showed in the shape of the face, ears, tail, and the subtle lines of its body. [...] She sat, a tiny thing, in the middle of a yellow carpet, surrounded by five worshipppers, not at all afraid of us. Then she stalked around that floor of the house, inspecting every inch of it, climbed up on to my bed, crept under the fold of a sheet, and was at home.”

HomeBodyFacesHouseLinesFiveWeekMiddleShapesBedSixCatEarsTinyTalesSatFairySubtleYellowDelicateGenesFairy TaleInchesTailsSheetsCarpetFoldsKittenEnchantingTiny Things
Author:Doris Lessing
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“I flicked on the light beside my bed, waiting for my breathing to slow, veins full of adrenaline from the realistic dream. A new dream, but in essence so much the same as the many others that had plagued me in the past months. No, not a dream. Surely a memory. I could still feel the heat of Jared's lips on mine. My hands reached out without my permission, searching across the rumpled sheets, looking for something they didn't find. My heart ached when they gave up, falling to the bed limp and empty.”

FeelsHeartStillsDreamHandsLightPastFallWaitingMemoriesMinesMonthsMy HeartBedEmptyEssenceLipsBreathingHeatRealisticPermissionSheetsVeinsGave UpAdrenaline
Author:Stephenie Meyer
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“As he gave a sleepy, growling groan, that hand disappeared under the sheet. Arizona's lips parted, and her heartbeat tripped up. She cleared her throat. "Spencer?" Freezing, without moving any other body part, he opened his eyes and met her gaze. She frowned at him. He didn't look super-startled, and he said nothing. He just started at her. With his hand still under there. "Yeah..." Semi-satisfied with his frozen reaction, she nodded at his lap. "You weren't going for a little tug, were you? Because as your spectator, I'd just as soon not see it." -Arizona and Spencer”

LooksLittlesSaidStillsBodyHandsEyeMovingMetsYeahLipsReactionsSatisfiedHis EyesThroatSheetsFrozenSpectatorsLapHeartbeatArizonaSleepyFreezingGrowling
Book:A Perfect Storm
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“And she loved a man who was made out of nothing. A few hours without him and right away she’d be missing him with her whole body, sitting in her office surrounded by polyethylene and concrete and thinking of him. And every time she’d boil water for coffee in her ground-floor office, she’d let the steam cover her face, imagining it was him stroking her cheeks, her eyelids and she’d wait for the day to be over, so she could go to her apartment building, climb the flight of stairs, turn the key in the door, and find him waiting for her, naked and still between the sheets of her empty bed.”

ThinkingMenMadeStillsWholeBodyFacesTurnsWaitingWaterHoursDoorsMissingBuildingKeysBedOfficeSittingEmptyCoffeeNakedFlightClimbsConcreteCheeksApartmentSheetsStairsSteamEyelidsMissing HimThinking Of Him
Author:Etgar Keret
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“He’s being held prisoner on a ceramic-lined cookie sheet in the oven,” Thomas said. “I figured he couldn’t jigger his way out of a bunch of steel, and it would give him something to think about before we start asking questions.” “That’s an awful thing to do to one of the Little Folk, man,” I said. “I’m planning to start making a pie in front of him.” “Nice.” “Thank you.”

ThinkingMenWayGivingLittlesSaidNiceFrontsAskingFolksPlanningBunchAwfulThings To DoPrisonerPieSteelSheetsCookiesAsking QuestionsOvensCeramics
Author:Jim Butcher
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“Right now there’s a man on the street outside my door with outstretched hands full of heartbeats no one can hear. He has cheeks like torn sheet music every tear-broken crescendo falling on deaf ears. At his side there’s a boy with eyes like an anthem no one stands up for.”

MenHandsEyeFallSidesBoysDoorsStreetsTearsBrokenRight NowEarsCheeksSheetsTornDeafHeartbeatAnthemCrescendoDeaf EarsSheet Music
Book:Pole Dancing to Gospel Hymns
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“Beautiful Hannah. If you were mine, I'd lay you on silk sheets and wrap you up in ropes of pearls, and feed you honey from a silver spoon. Of course, you wouldn't be able to make all your high-minded judgments if you were a fallen woman...but you wouldn't care. Because I would pleasure you, Hannah, every night, all night, until you forgot your own name. Until you were willing to do things that would shock you in the light of day. I would debauch you from your head down to your innocent little toes-" "Oh, I despise you.”

IfsLittlesLightCareAbleBeautifulNightCoursesNamesPleasureMinesWillingJudgmentLaysInnocentFallenShockSilverHoneyDespiseEvery NightToesSheetsPearlsRopeAll NightWrapsSilkSpoonsSilver Spoons
Book:A Wallflower Christmas: Number 5 in series
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“Yes?’ he asked, looking at me over the sheet. ‘I’m a writer temporarily down on my inspirations.’ ‘Oh, a writer, eh?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Are you sure?’ ‘No, I’m not.’ ‘What do you write?’ ‘Short stories mostly. And I’m halfway through a novel.’ ‘A novel, eh?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘What’s the name of it?’ ‘”The Leaky Faucet of My Doom.”‘ ‘Oh, I like that. What’s it about?’ ‘Everything.’ ‘Everything? You mean, for instance, it’s about cancer?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘How about my wife?’ ‘She’s in there too.”

WritingMeanStoriesInspirationNamesNovelWifeCancerMy WifeInstanceShort StorySheetsDoomHalfway
Author:Charles Bukowski
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“In Ronan's hand, the mask was as thin as a sheet of paper, still warm from Adam's gasped breaths. Orphan Girl buried her face in his side, her body shaking with sobs. Her tiny voice was muffled: "Tollerere me a hic, tollerere me a hic..." Take me away from here, take me away from here.”

StillsBodyHandsFacesGirlSidesVoicePaperBreathsWarmTinyMaskTake MeBuriedAdamSheetsShakingOrphanTake Me Away
Book:The Dream Thieves (The Raven Cycle, Book 2)
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