Gowland Skin Quotes

#1. World Poetry Day, 21 March
I caress your skin -
Your breath is flowing;
Peace in the things of life. #Quote by Sir Kristian Goldmund Aumann

#2. Let me just be candid: My party is full of racists. And the real reason a considerable portion of my party wants President Obama out of the White House has nothing to do with the content of his character, nothing to do with his competence as commander-in-chief and president, and everything to do with the color of his skin. And that's despicable. #Quote by Colin Powell

#3. The funny thing about a lie is that once it has been said and believed, it lives and becomes. It can't be taken back. It sucks all the air from you until you give up and it takes over and you forget how to breathe on your own. It is like those parasitic relationships, but not like the shark and the little remora that politely cleans the shark's skin and sometimes attaches itself to its underbelly. No, it is more like a tapeworm eating someone from the inside out. #Quote by Carrie Arcos

#4. You know, now that i think about it... there is one species that's completely monogamous. The male anglerfish, which is a tenth the size of the girl of his dreams, follows her scent, bites her, and hangs on until his skin fuses into hers and her body absorbs his. They ate for life. But it's a really short life, if you're the guy in the relationship #Quote by Jodi Picoult

#5. I need you. My hands on your body. Your taste on my lips. Your breath against my skin. I need to feel you. Feel that you're safe and everything's going to be okay. #Quote by Meghan March

#6. Skin is really important; after all, it's my business. #Quote by Nicole Trunfio

#7. It feels like every cell in your skin is more alive. It's not just in your skin, either, but deeper, through the tissues, into your very bones. #Quote by Laura Jarratt

#8. If this earth should ever be destroyed, it will be by desire, by the lust of pleasure and self-gratification, by greed of the green frog skin, by people who are mindful of their own self, forgetting about the wants of others. #Quote by John Fire Lame Deer

#9. And now I lost my last treasure: the dreaming. For nothing in the dreams took the place of the human warmth I had witnessed. Now I felt utterly poor, because I could not create a human companion.

This hunger which had inhabited her entire being, which had thinned her blood, transpired through her bones, attacked the roots of her hair, given a fragility to her skin which was never to disappear entirely, had been so enormous that it had marked her whole being and her eyes with an indelible mark. Although her life changed and every want was filled later, this appearance of hunger remained. As if nothing could ever quite fill it. Her being had received no sun, no food, no air, no warmth, no love. It retained open pores of yearning and longing, mysterious spongy cells of absorption. The space between actuality, absolute deprivation, and the sumptuosity of her imagination could never be entirely covered. What she had created in the void, in the emptiness, in the bareness continued to shame all that was offered her, and her large, infinitely blue eyes continued to assert the immensity of her hunger. #Quote by Anais Nin

#10. I don't feel good anymore with this skin... probably a new title... a new chapter.. something new will be more okay than that... to much honesty... I am not on this... After all if you don't know this fact, I am going to point it to you...
Marriage is successful if it's build on a lie... #Quote by Deyth Banger

#11. It is a sunny fall afternoon and I'm engaged in one of my favorite pastimes - picking chestnuts. I'm playing alone under the spreading, leafy, protective tree. My mother is sitting on a bench nearby, rocking the buggy in which my sister is asleep. The city, beyond the lacy wall of trees, is humming with gentle noises. The sun has just passed its highest point and is warming me with intense, oblique rays. I pick up a reddish brown chestnut, and suddenly, through its warm skin, I feel the beat as if of a heart. But the beat is also in everything around me, and everything pulsates and shimmers as if it were coursing with the blood of life. Stooping under the tree, I'm holding life in my hand, and I am in the center of a harmonious, vibrating transparency. For that moment, I know everything there is to know. I have stumbled into the very center of plenitude, and I hold myself still with fulfillment, before the knowledge of my knowledge escapes me. #Quote by Eva Hoffman

#12. A film based on a jolly good John Grisham book is fine, but I like to get a bit under the skin. #Quote by Charlotte Rampling

#13. It's this human porosity that bothers me and that I can't escape since it is the faith of my skin, the extra sense which is everywhere in my being, this lack of eyelids on the face of the soul, or perhaps this imaginary lack of imaginary lids, this excessive facility I have for catching others, I am caught by persons or things animated or unanimated that I don't even frequent, and even the verb catch I catch or rather I am caught by it, for, note this please, it's not I who wish to change, it's the other who gets his hooks in me for lack of armor. All it takes is for me to be plunged for an hour or less into surroundings where the inevitable occurs--cafe, bus, hair salon, train carriage, recording studio--there must be confinement and envelopment, and there I am stained intoxicated, practically any speaker can appropriate my mental cells and poison my sinuses, shit, idiocies, cruelties, vulgar spite, trash, innumerable particles of human hostility inflame the windows of my brain and I get off the transport sick for days. It isn't the fault of one Eichmann or another. I admit to being guilty of excessive receptivity to mental miasma. The rumor of a word poisons me for a long time. Should I read or hear such and such a turn of phrase or figure of speech, right away I can't breathe my mucous membranes swell up, my lips go dry, I am asthmaticked, sometimes I lose my balance and crash to the ground, or on a chair if perchance one is there, in the incapacity of breathing the unbrea #Quote by Helene Cixous

#14. To obey my queen in all things." His voice was like his skin, dark. It made me think of molasses and other thick, sweet things. A voice so deep it could hit notes low enough to make my spine shiver. #Quote by Laurell K. Hamilton

#15. I was its skin, its movement, its shape, its god, its creator, its destroyer. And you thought Dexter was bad. The Bridgeman arrives soon. #Quote by Catherine Astolfo

#16. Forget about winning and losing; forget about pride and pain. Let your opponent graze your skin and you smash into his flesh; let him smash into your flesh and you fracture his bones; let him fracture your bones and you take his life! Do not be concerned with escaping safely- lay your life before him!! #Quote by Bruce Lee

#17. If someone's got good, clean skin, with not too much make-up on, and good, clean hair that's bouncy, and the nails are clean and not overly done, then you can put anything on her and she's going to look good. #Quote by Bruce Oldfield

#18. Early tattooing was thought to have mystical protection, to be a talisman of sorts worn on the skin. #Quote by Kym Grosso

#19. I've been thinking recently about all the qualities you need in order to be an actor. First and foremost, you've got to have a thick skin and give out an 'I don't give a monkey's what you think' kind of vibe, while at the same time really caring what everyone thinks. You've got to be tough and sensitive at the same time. #Quote by Jessica Raine

#20. Mia: I was sixteen when I first realized my mom was more concerned about my appearance than I was ... I'll be talking to my mom and realize she hasn't heard a word because she's studying my face to see if the foundation I'm using is a good match for my skin tone. #Quote by Mia Fontaine

#21. Now you wear your skin like iron #Quote by Townes Van Zandt

#22. Lately, when I didn't have room to bitch, I didn't. Maturity, at last. #Quote by Laurell K. Hamilton

#23. I have never been a Marilyn Monroe wannabe. I have always been happy in my own skin! #Quote by Mamie Van Doren

#24. He took her hand in his, caressed her palm with his finger."Duin an doras," he whispered hoarsely, feverishly."Fuirichidh mise."
Close the door. I'll stay.
Ellie flushed dark, her lashes fluttered shut. "I ... I don't know what you say," she murmured.
Liam dropped her hand, gently laid his at the base of her bare neck. Her skin was soft and warm against his callused palm, and he whispered in her ear,"I know." He moved his head; his lips whisked across hers, shimmering like a whisper of silk.
He breathed her in once more, made himself remove his hand from her heated flesh. #Quote by Julia London

#25. At home, a man is entitled to raise his voice maybe once a year, if something really gets under his skin. At work, it's different. I raise my voice all the time. Not out of malice, but to get things right. It's never personal. #Quote by Charlie Trotter

#26. Straddling him intimately, he slides his hands up my thighs, pushing the silk aside and caressing my pale, exposed skin. Even against his uniform, I can feel his hardness. His body feels taut and poised for action. #Quote by Felicity Brandon

#27. Seeping in through his clothes and his skin until it was gone - or not gone. Absorbed. #Quote by V.E Schwab

#28. Beautiful women seldom want to act. They are afraid of emotion and they do not try to extract anything from a character that they are portraying, because in expressing emotion they may encourage crow's feet and laughing wrinkles. They avoid anything that will disturb their placidity of countenance, for placidity of countenance insures a smooth skin. #Quote by Laurette Taylor

#29. Little by little, his eyes warmed into that dusky shade of brown she'd come to miss. A shadow traced the outline of his body, from the curve in his neck to the powerful slope of his shoulders. As his glimmering blue aura faded, his hair blackened, and his skin, bronzed from years of training under the sun, glowed with life.
She had no idea what came over her- impulse or instinct- but she reached for Shang's hand.
He looked surprised, and for an instant she wondered whether it was because he could feel her touch, or because she had reached for him. Maybe both.
Shang's stance loosened, and he drew her close, not letting go of her hand. "I told you once you were the craziest man I'd ever met. I guess I have to change that to the craziest woman."
Mulan laughed. "You're delaying us from leaving Diyu to tell me that?"
"And that Ping was right about his sister."
Now Mulan lifted her chin, curious. "Why is that?"
"She's strong and kind and beautiful and brave...."
"And also speaks her mind," Mulan reminded him.
"... Honest, in the way that counts most."
"And she occasionally disobeys orders," Mulan warned him, "even from her commanding officer."
"... She has discerning judgment."
Mulan smiled. Tentatively, she reached for a wisp of hair that clung to Shang's temple. She brushed it aside gently, and Shang caught her hand in his and brought it to his chest.
Mulan's skin tingled.
"I'll never meet another girl like her #Quote by Elizabeth Lim

#30. Tell you what, I'll take the first watch, and if nothing happens, we'll both sleep. Agreed?"
I frowned at him. He started playing with my fingers and turned my hand over so he could trace the lines of my palm. Firelight flickered across his handsome features. My eyes drifted to his lips.
"Kelsey?" He made eye contact, and I quickly looked away.
I wasn't used to dealing with him when camping like this. I usually got to make all my own decisions, and he just followed me around. Er, or I guess I followed him most places. But, at least when he was a tiger he didn't argue back. Or distract me with thoughts of being wrapped in his arms kissing him.
He smiled an amazingly white smile and stroked the inside of my arm. "Your skin here is so soft."
He leaned over to nuzzle my ear. My blood started pounding thickly and fogged my brain. "Kells, tell me you agree with my plan."
I shook myself free from the spellbinding fog and set my jaw stubbornly. "Fine, you win. I agree," I mumbled. "Even though you are coercing me."
He laughed and moved to look at me. "And how exactly am I coercing you?"
"Well, first of all, you can't expect me to have coherent thoughts when you're touching me. Second, you always know how to get your way with me."
"Is that right?"
"Sure. All you have to do is bat your eyes, or in your case smile and ask nicely, throw in a distracting touch, and then, before I know it, you get whatever it is you want."
"Really?" h #Quote by Colleen Houck

#31. How I saw in her my own true nature. What was beneath my skin. Inside my bones ... Even though I was young, I could see the pain of the flesh and the worth of the pain.
This is how a daughter honors her mother. It is shou so deep it is in your bones. The pain of the flesh is nothing. The pain you must forget. Because sometimes that is the only way to remember what is in your bones. You must peel off your skin, and that of your mother, and her mother before her. Until there is nothing. No scar, no skin, no flesh. #Quote by Amy Tan

#32. His body was worn and weathered, his skin scratched with lines mapping the miles of his life. #Quote by Laura Hillenbrand

#33. I smack into him as if shoved from behind. He doesn't budge, not an inch. Just holds my shoulders and waits. Maybe he's waiting for me to find my balance. Maybe he's waiting for me to gather my pride. I hope he's got all day.
I hear people passing on the boardwalk and imagine them staring. Best-case scenario, they think I know this guy, that we're hugging. Worst-case scenario, they saw me totter like an intoxicated walrus into this complete stranger because I was looking down for a place to park our beach stuff. Either way, he knows what happened. He knows why my cheek is plastered to his bare chest. And there is definite humiliation waiting when I get around to looking up at him.
Options skim through my head like a flip book.
Option One: Run away as fast as my dollar-store flip flops can take me. Thing is, tripping over them is partly responsible for my current dilemma. In fact, one of them is missing, probably caught in a crack of the boardwalk. I'm getting Cinderella didn't feel this foolish, but then again, Cinderella wasn't as clumsy as an intoxicated walrus.
Option two: Pretend I've fainted. Go limp and everything. Drool, even. But I know this won't work because my eyes flutter too much to fake it, and besides, people don't blush while unconscious.
Option Three: Pray for a lightning bolt. A deadly one that you feel in advance because the air gets all atingle and your skin crawls-or so the science books say. It might kill us both, but really, he #Quote by Anna Banks

#34. Instead I walked towards the man, meeting him halfway. "Just miss a train?" I heard myself ask. He shrugged. I could not believe I was engaging this man in conversation. He was disgusting up close, with mottled, pitted skin and a shaggy grown out haircut. "I hate that," I said. "Especially at night. Especially at night when you're waiting for a train and there's someone there. And you never know. I mean, in the city you just never know who you're dealing with. They might have a knife, or a gun, or whatever. They might, I don't know, be the kind of person who hates men who hang out in train stations, waiting for women. She might be the kind of person who takes men like that and rips them limb from fucking limb with her bare hands." The man left the station without a word, and the train took me home safe and sound. #Quote by Sara Gran

#35. The walls weren't moving, and the room was open - gaping. No colors, but shades of darkness, of night . Only those star-flecked violet eyes were bright, full of color and light. He gave me a lazy smile before he leaned forward.
I pulled away, but his hands were like shackles. I could do nothing as his mouth met with my cheek, and he licked away a tear. His tongue was hot against my skin, so startling that I couldn't move as he licked away another path of salt water, and then another. My body went taut and loose all at once and I burned, even as chills shuddered along my limbs. It was only when his tongue danced along the damp edges of my lashes that I jerked back.
He chuckled as I scrambled for the corner of the cell. I wiped my face as I glared at him.
He smirked, sitting down against a wall. "I figured that would get you to stop crying."
"It was disgusting." I wiped my face again.
"Was it?" He quirked an eyebrow and pointed to his palm - to the place where my tattoo would be. "Beneath all your pride and stubbornness, I could have sworn I detected something that felt differently. Interesting."
"Get out."
"As usual, your gratitude is overwhelming. #Quote by Sarah J. Maas

#36. Breathe life into my soul before laying your bare hands on my skin and I promise you, my heart won't have a choice. #Quote by Nikki Rowe

#37. Wounds, I think, are never confined to a single skin but reach out to rasp us all. #Quote by Lauren Slater

#38. There was a sensible part of me somewhere that clutched its pearls and hissed that I better not give up my V-card in a CELLAR, but when Archer's hands slid under my shirt and onto the skin of my back, I started thinking that a cellar was as good a place as any. #Quote by Rachel Hawkins

#39. Sit me down, tie
my hands and
allow me to show
you all the
different ways I
can touch you
without laying a
finger on your
skin... #Quote by Andre D. Woods

#40. Not unlike Lorenz's emphasis on knowing the whole animal, Imanishi urged us to empathize with the species under study. We need to get under its skin, he said, or as we would nowadays put it, try to enter its Umwelt. #Quote by Frans De Waal

#41. The conductor stepped up, tapped twice on the rostrum, and a great hush descended. I felt the stillness, the auditorium alive, expectant. Then he brought down his baton and suddenly everything was pure sound. I felt the music like a physical thing; it didn't just sit in my ears, it flowed through me, around me, made my senses vibrate. It made my skin prickle and my palms dampen. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever heard. #Quote by Jojo Moyes