Impey Wet Quotes

#1. When the surf is really good, it's hard for me to concentrate on work. So I really have to watch when and where I surf - I won't get anything done if I get the fever. Then it's like I come into work and I'm wet and waterlogged and ready for lunch. #Quote by Chris Carter

#2. The water caught the Falselight glimmer like layers of shifting, translucent mirrors and formed split-second works of art in the air, but men cursed it anyway, because it made their heads wet. #Quote by Scott Lynch

#3. I heard you went to Ireland ... I haven't seen it in many years. Is it still green then, and beautiful?
Wet as a bath sponge and mud to the knees but, aye, it was green enough. #Quote by Diana Gabaldon

#4. Come over here so I can wipe my hands on your shirt," she said, holding up her beer-sticky hands. Eyebrows raised in amusement, Blue did as she asked. He stood between her legs at the front of the car, his knees against the bumper.
"Go for it," he said.
Her wet fingers grazed the muscle of his abdomen as she fumbled to dry her hands on his T-shirt. Blue sucked in a breath when her hands brushed his skin, and something electric ran through her. A flush burned her cheeks. She made herself focus on the artwork on his T-shirt.
"Now the ick is on you, where it belongs," she said.
"You are a very nasty princess," Blue said. #Quote by Sarah Cross

#5. Dear God, I love you, Lance," he whispers when he pulls out of the kiss. "Don't ever leave me."
I look into his eyes, ignoring the water that's starting to turn cool. I take his face in my hands and kiss him softly on his wet lips before responding. His eyes are troubled and it hurts me to see all the doubts and fears looking back at me.
"Rick, I'm not going anywhere. I'm yours. Always. #Quote by Candi Kay

#6. Saving a life isn't just pulling a friend from the fire," he explains, the daredevil playing in his wet,
excited eyes. "It's thereafter keeping him from the fire. Saving a life means saving it over and over. #Quote by Daryl Banner

#7. Are you fucking kidding me? How do you get this wet? Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ. I don't even ... ohhhhh God. It's all over your legs. Oh baby, I'm gonna fuck you so hard. #Quote by Charlotte Stein

#8. At the earliest age, when I saw a 'wet paint' sign, I had to touch the paint to see if it was wet. When I get stopped at the stoplight in the middle of the night, and there's just no cars coming, and the light is red, I go. I don't think I'm putting anyone in harm's way, and I'll just take the consequences. Because I'm a Libertarian. #Quote by Gary Johnson

#9. Most often, those who've been in the well are those most likely to pull others out of the well ... When Jack Canaday was twelve years old he was once in the well ... Now, twenty-one years later, Jack has an opportunity to reach down and help others out of the well ... #Quote by Randolph Randy Camp

#10. Hail, follow, well met, All dirty and wet: Find out, if you can, Who's master, who's man. #Quote by Jonathan Swift

#11. There's a hurried intensity in the strokes
you can see where he scratched into the wet paint with the end of the brush. It's as if he knew there wasn't much time left. And yet, there's a serenity in his face, a sense of something that's survived its own ruin. #Quote by Nicole Krauss

#12. The sun, through the filter of the trees, glints green off the cells of her suit, outlines her soft curves. I'm overcome with visions of my father poring over his books, and the wet, verdant forest floor, and newts pausing over toxic yellow candy, and leaves flying up from the impact of Bryan's body hitting the ground. Another, confused part of me hears my father's voice calling the refs scum, trash, slime. With flashes of fury at Marisa, mixed with a sad, all-consuming longing that feels dangerously like love, I pluck her hands from my face and push her away. -from Fireseed One #Quote by Catherine Stine

#13. I didn't want to tell him that I was so wet that Noah would have had to build an ark to avoid the flood in my pants - Moxie #Quote by Z.B. Heller

#14. Is this your soap?" "It is," Val answered, sitting on the bed and watching as St. Just dunked to wet his hair. "Do the honors. I am going smell like a bordello when I get out of this bath." "You will smell like a gentleman. #Quote by Grace Burrowes

#15. world was dripping down his eyeballs like wet oil paint down a canvas. #Quote by Eoin Colfer

#16. I'm not dreaming this, am I?" he asked.
Dehvi lifted an eyebrow. "There's only one way to know for sure," he said.
What's that?"
Go piss in the woods. If you feel wet and warm afterward, wake up. #Quote by Brent Weeks

#17. We push and shove and wet whales all day, then walk home through town past homeless men curled up on benches - washed up like whales on the curbsides. Pulled outside by the moon and struggling for air among the sewers. They're suffocating too, but there's no town assembly line of food. No palpable urgency, no airlifting plane. #Quote by Marina Keegan

#18. Emyr stared up at me, and I could clearly see he desperately yearned to take me at my word. His eyes were slightly wet, and I had to turn away before he saw the effect he had on me.
I wanted to see tears roll down those smooth cheeks.
I wanted to see that high forehead creased with pain, with pleasure.
I wanted to coax sighs and moans from between those soft-looking lips.
I wanted to make him laugh so hard his sides ached.
I wanted to kiss him and tell him everything would be all right.
I wanted to put him over my knee and spank him until he sobbed and begged me to stop.
I wanted to pamper and protect him and give him anything he wanted.
I wanted to see bruises and welts on that pale skin.
I wanted to hurt him… And I wanted to heal him #Quote by Bey Deckard

#19. He put his hands on her shoulders and kissed her full on the mouth. His skin was wet with rain. When she didn't pull away, he took her face between his hands and kissed her again, on her forehead, on her nose, on her mouth once more. "You will come, won't you? Promisse!" he whispered. #Quote by Cornelia Funke

#20. But there is also my brain and it is gently, unobtrusively asking me questions that don't require answers because the answers are already there: it won't last; he's just TOO perfect for me, TOO handsome, TOO sexy; I'm not the one for him, if such a person exists at all. Sooner or later it will come to an end because the feelings disappear, even the strongest ones. They are inexorably broken down by life's worries and problems and the fears that come with them. But with Alex it will most likely happen sooner rather than later – he is just TOO seductive and virtually all women without exception look at him TOO greedily. When it's all over, he'll simply step over us and move on and I... I'll be abandoned like an empty cigarette packet on a dirty pavement. I have no desire to fade away in the scorching sun, covered in dust and dripping wet with dirty rainwater. #Quote by Victoria Sobolev

#21. Blood and brain tissue clung to the wet rock like the refuse of a sad picnic. #Quote by Dan Simmons

#22. Fictional Characters"


Do they ever want to escape?
Climb out of the white pages
and enter our world?

Holden Caulfield slipping in the movie theater
to catch the two o'clock
Anna Karenina sitting in a diner,
reading the paper as the waitress
serves up a cheeseburger.

Even Hector, on break from the Iliad,
takes a stroll through the park,
admires the tulips.

Maybe they grew tired
of the author's mind,
all its twists and turns.

Or were finally weary
of stumbling around Pamplona,
a bottle in each fist,
eating lotuses on the banks of the Nile.

For others, it was just too hot
in the small California town
where they'd been written into
a lifetime of plowing fields.

Whatever the reason,
here they are, roaming the city streets
rain falling on their phantasmal shoulders.

Wouldn't you, if you could?
Step out of your own story,
to lean against a doorway
of the Five & Dime, sipping your coffee,

your life, somewhere far behind you,
all its heat and toil nothing but a tale
resting in the hands of a stranger,
the sidewalk ahead wet and glistening.

"Fictional Characters" by Danusha Laméris from The Moons of August. © Autumn House Press, 2014. Reprinted with permission #Quote by Danusha Laméris

#23. The pain in my hip was just short of apocalyptic. And the first five hundred words were uniquely terrifying - it was as if I'd never written anything before them in my life. All my old tricks seemed to have deserted me. I stepped from one word to the next like a very old man finding his way across a stream on a zigzag line of wet stones. There was no inspiration that first afternoon, only a kind of stubborn determination and the hope that things would get better if I kept at it. #Quote by Stephen King

#24. Mawu felt her face where the still-fresh scar had just been opened up again. She examined the blood on her fingers as if it weren't her own. Sir returned to the table and a servant slipped through the side door and passed him a wet cloth to wipe the blood from his hands. #Quote by Dolen Perkins-Valdez

#25. This is what I love to do: I love to run through a field of wet grass that has not been mowed recently, I love to run, keeping my snout low to the ground so the grass and the sparkles of water cover my face. I imagine myself as a vacuum cleaner, sucking in all the smells. all the life, a spear of summer grass. It reminds me of my childhood, back on the farm in Spangle, where there was no rain but there was grass, there were fields, and I ran. ~ p208 #Quote by Garth Stein

#26. Very often, what is meant to be a stepping stone turns out to be a slab of wet cement that will harden around your foot if you do not take the next step soon enough. #Quote by Richelle E. Goodrich

#27. God enabled me to so agonize in prayer that I was quite wet with perspiration, though in the shade and the cool wind. My soul was drawn out very much from the world, for multitudes of souls. #Quote by David Brainerd

#28. I stood on a tower in the wet, And New Year and Old Year met, And winds were roaring and blowing: And I said, O years, that meet in tears, Have ye aught that is worth the knowing? Science enough and exploring, Wanderers coming and going, Matter enough for deploring, But aught that is worth the knowing? #Quote by Alfred Lord Tennyson

#29. Pop that, pop that, jiggle that fat
Don't stop, get it till ya clothes get wet #Quote by Missy Elliott

#30. How does the biological wetware of the brain give rise to our experience: the sight of emerald green, the taste of cinnamon, the smell of wet soil? What if I told you that the world around you, with its rich colors, textures, sounds, and scents is an illusion, a show put on for you by your brain? If you could perceive reality as it really is, you would be shocked by its colorless, odorless, tasteless silence. Outside your brain, there is just energy and matter. Over millions of years of evolution the human brain has become adept at turning this energy and matter into a rich sensory experience of being in the world. #Quote by David Eagleman

#31. I have heard people say that men and the Fae are as different as dogs and wolves. While this is an easy analogy, it is far from true. Wolves and dogs are only separated by a minor shade of blood. Both howl at night. If beaten, both will bite.
No. Our people and theirs are as different as water and alcohol. In equal glasses they look the same. Both liquid. Both clear. Both wet, after a fashion. But one will burn, the other will not. This has nothing to do with temperament or timing. These two things are profoundly, fundamentally not the same.
The same is true with humans and the Fae. We forget it at our peril. #Quote by Patrick Rothfuss

#32. If you tell people there is an invisible man who looks like Jesus flying in the sky, a majority of people will believe you. If you tell them that paint on a wall is wet, they will have to touch it to believe you. #Quote by Anonymous

#33. I want all your words. I want to be filled with them so that when I go home, I'll never forget how I made you feel." I'm hovering over him, wet and ready when he grips my hips and prevents me from lowering myself onto him. He brushes his lips along my jaw, nipping at my skin. "You are home," he whispers. #Quote by J. Daniels

#34. Hell is a swamp, to me - not as something fiery, but as something dank, moist, and wet. #Quote by Avey Tare

#35. Ian was the kind of smart that makes your straight A student look like she'd drown in a wet paper bag. Ian was the kind of smart that scares people. #Quote by Matt K. Turner

#36. I've not won different awards - many, many times - so luckily I've practiced that whenever you are nominated for anything, you enter into this marvelous, fantabulous bubble called the bubble of nomination. The minute the envelope is opened and your name isn't called out, the bubble bursts. And no one calls you up the next day to say, 'So sorry you didn't win,' or 'You looked gorgeous - nothing. If you win, you get about another 24 hours in that lovely bubble and then - pop - you are slightly wet all over from the bubble and realize that you have to get on with real life. #Quote by Helen Mirren

#37. Supermarkets this large and clean and modern are a revelation to me. I spent my life in small steamy delicatessens with slanted display cabinets full of trays that hold soft wet lumpy matter in pale colours. High enough cabinets so you had to stand on tiptoes to give your order. Shouts, accents. In cities no one notices specific dying. Dying is a quality of the air. It's everywhere and nowhere. Men shout as they die to be noticed, remembered for a second or two. To die in an apartment instead of a house can depress the soul, I would imagine, for several lives to come. In a town there are houses, plants in bay windows. People notice dying better. The dead have faces, automobiles. If you don't know a name you know a street name, a dog's name. 'He drove an orange Mazda.' You know a couple of useless things about a person that become major facts of identification and cosmic placement when he dies suddenly, after a short illness, in his own bed, with a comforter and matching pillows, on a rainy Wednesday afternoon, feverish, a little congested in the sinuses and chest, thinking about his dry cleaning. #Quote by Don DeLillo

#38. It is the characteristic of great poems that they will yield of their sense in due proportion to the hasty and the deliberate reader. To the practical they will be common sense, and to the wise wisdom; as either the traveler may wet his lips, or an army may fill its water-casks at a full stream. #Quote by Henry David Thoreau

#39. If you were a woman, all I'd have to say is 'Colin Firth in a wet shirt' and you'd say 'Ah. #Quote by Shannon Hale

#40. Subject: Re: Wet Panty Fetish I did realize that you slipped your thong into my pocket this morning. I've noticed that you've done this all week. Contrary to your unfounded and silly assumptions, I do not have a panty fetish and I do not sleep with them over my face at night. I do, however, have a new fetish for your pussy, and if you're interested in letting me sleep with THAT over my face at night, feel free to let me know. Andrew #Quote by Whitney Gracia Williams

#41. In the cramped confines of the toilet I had trouble getting out of my wet trousers, which clung to my legs like a drowning man. The new ones were quite complicated too in that they had more legs than a spider; either that or they didn't have enough legs to get mine into. The numbers failed to add up. Always there was one trouser leg too many or one of my legs was left over. From the outside it may have looked like a simple toilet, but once you were locked in here the most basic rules of arithmetic no longer held true. #Quote by Geoff Dyer

#42. I'm convinced the reason they don't make James Bond movies anymore is because the stunts he used to do no longer impress us as people do that stuff on a wet Thursday afternoon in an office team building session. Even sweaty Pete from IT manages to get his fat arse into a jumpsuit so he can do a tandem jump with his head of #Quote by Karl Pilkington

#43. Moaning, she melted into my arms and molded her body against mine as if giving me permission to take whatever I yearned for.
And I will. I can't think of anything else.
The ocean waves crashed against us. That cool water rose up to our knees. All was forgotten in those sweet kisses - lips gliding against lips, wet tongues twisting and exploring, hungry hands and taunting fingers. Fireworks of lust and need exploded inside me. #Quote by Kenya Wright