Parboil Ribs Quotes

#1. Her hand wandered under his shirt, feeling his rapid breath expand his ribs. She hesitated for a second - wondering what the chances were that either of her parents would come home early - then lifted his shirt with both hands, guiding it up his arms and over his head. It was her favourite indulgence; holding herself against his bare chest. #Quote by Aprilynne Pike

#2. As the author of Lost Wife, Saw Barracuda - True Stories from a Sharm el Sheikh Scuba Diving Instructor, I know a thing or two about guide books but I have never quite seen anything like the Buns Guide before. There is certainly nothing arse-about-face with this book and indeed you have to admire the author's cheek, although thankfully he didn't include a photo of it here!

What shines through in this quality-produced book is "Stryke" Clayton's intelligence, wit and ability to get away with a subject normally found in magazines and websites of questionable pedigree. The result is a hilarious and surprisingly tasteful book written by someone who would probably feel at home in the cast of Monty Python's Flying Circus.

The Buns Guide is a great poke in the ribs at those nature guide books and the plastic animal or fish identity picture cards they sell in national parks around the world. With so many parts to the female anatomy I'm sure the author may well be considering a sequel or two?

A great read, very funny and a well-produced book. Full marks here! #Quote by John Kean

#3. You're not very deep."
You say these cutting words thoughtfully, to yourself, almost as though you're surprised. They hit me somewhere below my ribs.

I think of the dictionary app on my phone that I have to use all the time when I'm reading stuff like The Master and Margarita or The Awakening. Or that one time when I missed sophomoric on a vocab quiz. And how I totally don't get why girls love Jane Austen. You're right: I'm not deep.

I find myself watching every word I say to you, wondering what they say about me. I look for disappointment in your eyes... I've been walking on eggshells for a week. #Quote by Heather Demetrios

#4. Flowers are the fastest way to a woman's heart. Well, actually, the fastest way is through her rib cage, but flowers are a lot less messy. #Quote by Eddie Murphy

#5. The light of a hunter's moon bleached the unresisting pastels from the faces of the towers, so that they looked like titanic ribs of bone, and shadows accrued like crusted blood under the walkways. #Quote by Mike Carey

#6. Are you anything akin to me, do you think, Jane?"
I could risk no sort of answer by this time; my heart was full.
"Because," he said, "I sometimes have a queer feeling with regard to you - especially when you are near to me, as now: it is as if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly and inextricably knotted to a similar string situated in the corresponding quarter of your little frame. And if that boisterous Channel, and two hundred miles or so of land, come broad between us, I am afraid that cord of communion will be snapped; and then I've a nervous notion I should take to bleeding inwardly. #Quote by Charlotte Bronte

#7. I'm not saying eating babies should be legal, but when they're so delicious, what's the harm in it? I don't know what tastes better, their innocence or their gooey rib butter. #Quote by Zach Braff

#8. Aye lass," nodded Gizurr, "you are quite the beauty for sure. I'd certainly offer to buy you a beer or two if I ever met you in a pub and that's a fact."
Ragni tutted and elbowed Gizurr in the ribs, "Have some respect, she looks young enough to be your daughter."
"Well she isn't is she?" snorted Gizurr, "She's been trapped here for over two thousand years, made to think that she's an ugly old bird and fooled by some arse wipe into protecting a lump of rock that is perfectly capable of looking after itself."
Ragni pursed his lips and nodded slowly in agreement. #Quote by Jake Adler

#9. Hell and damnation! Is that your destiny?"
Willow's eyes flew open as she shot out of the church pew. Her voluminous hymnal crashed to the floor like the slam of a door on an empty tomb.
Silence.
Oh,hell, she silently groaned. Trying her best to disappear, she hunkered down between her two companions. Her expression sheepish, she leaned toward Miriam and whispered, "I wasn't expecting the reverend to yell like that."
"You weren't expecting anything," Miriam whispered back accusingly. "You were sleeping!"
Soft tittering buzzed throughout the congregation, coloring Willow's cheeks a bright pink. Even Sinclair's shoulders shook will ill-repressed mirth. "Quit it," Willow hissed, elbowing his ribs. His muffled grunt earned them both Miriam's castigating frown.
"Shushhhh!" This came from a hawk-nosed old lady in the pew behind them. Willow flashed the woman a withering glance and straightened to face the front of the church.
Her eyes immediately collided with Reverend Peabody's visage and to her surprise, his face was contorted in a comic attempt not to laugh. Willow ducked her head, grinning to herself. Well, she thought, at least the preacher has a sense of humor.
With that in mind, she endeavored to remain attentive throughout the sermon, not an easy task considering the church felt like an airless box. #Quote by Charlotte McPherren

#10. she had carried anxiety with her to work every morning and brought it home with her every night; a nameless, inconsiderate companion that had a habit of poking her in the ribs whenever she was trying to relax. #Quote by Joe Hill

#11. The rage of the Beast Lord was a terrible thing to behold. Some people stormed, some punched things, but Curran slipped into this icy, bone-chilling calm. His face hardened into a flat mask, and his eyes turned into a molten inferno of pure gold. If you looked at it for longer than two seconds, your muscles locked, your knees shook, and you had to fight to keep from cringing. It was easier to look at the floor,
but I didn't. Besides, he wasn't angry with me. He wasn't even angry with Kate. He was angry with Anapa. I had no doubt that if he could've gotten a hold of the god at that moment, he would've broken him in half.
"It's only ribs," Kate told him. "And they're not even broken. They are fractured."
"And the hip," Doolittle said. "And the knee."
There you go. Don't expect mercy from a honeybadger.
"How long do you need to keep her?" Curran looked to Doolittle.
"She can go to her quarters, provided she doesn't leave them," Doolittle said. "I can't do anything else with the magic down. She must stay down until I can patch her up."
"She will." Curran reached for Kate. "Hey, baby. Ready?"
She nodded. Curran slid his hands under her and picked her up, gently, as if she weighed nothing.
"Good?" he asked.
She put her arm around him. "Never better. #Quote by Ilona Andrews

#12. In the United States ... politics is purged of all menace, all sinister quality, all genuine significance, and stuffed with such gorgeous humors, such inordinate farce that one comes to the end of a campaign with one's ribs loose, and ready for King Lear, or a hanging, or a course of medical journals. #Quote by H.L. Mencken

#13. Then his eyes continue to sweep, and my heart comes hammering back against my ribs. I'm just being paranoid. Julian fumbles with the #Quote by Lauren Oliver

#14. How are my ribs? They're so meaningless it's hard to believe, #Quote by Harry Reid

#15. Where are your monuments, your battles, martyrs?
Where is your tribal memory? Sirs,
in that gray vault. The sea. The sea
has locked them up. The sea is History.

First, there was the heaving oil,
heavy as chaos;
then, likea light at the end of a tunnel,

the lantern of a caravel,
and that was Genesis.
Then there were the packed cries,
the shit, the moaning:

Exodus.
Bone soldered by coral to bone,
mosaics
mantled by the benediction of the shark's shadow,

that was the Ark of the Covenant.
Then came from the plucked wires
of sunlight on the sea floor

the plangent harp of the Babylonian bondage,
as the white cowries clustered like manacles
on the drowned women,

and those were the ivory bracelets
of the Song of Solomon,
but the ocean kept turning blank pages

looking for History.
Then came the men with eyes heavy as anchors
who sank without tombs,

brigands who barbecued cattle,
leaving their charred ribs like palm leaves on the shore,
then the foaming, rabid maw

of the tidal wave swallowing Port Royal,
and that was Jonah,
but where is your Renaissance?

Sir, it is locked in them sea sands
out there past the reef's moiling shelf,
where the men-o'-war floated down;

strop on these goggles, I'll guide you there myself.
It's all subtle and sub #Quote by Derek Walcott

#16. Sometimes, I feel my breath coming in shorter, quicker, spastic bursts, feel my heart threaten to thunder through my ribs, feel sweat beading on my brow ... and I know it's time to bust out those "chocolate frogs" from Harry Potter. #Quote by Shannon Celebi

#17. . . .She started to feel a bubble of lightness coming up through her ribs. It had been very fragile at first, but she thought now it was made of something stronger than suds. . .
(p. 121) #Quote by Natasha Pulley

#18. The light is in my heart between my ribs, so why would I fear walking in the darkness #Quote by Abu Al-Kasem Ash-shabi

#19. Tea seems to tenderize cheap cuts of beef. After cooking chuck, boiling beef and brisket (I even mixed rib eye, which is ever so cheap, and it's great) I have decided that the tannic acid in the tea is what tenderizes beef! #Quote by Heloise

#20. And when the sea swallowed up the shore and the waves heaved under the ship and the blue horizon encircled us, I immediately felt an overwhelming intimacy with the sea. I knew this green, infinite giant, as though it were roving back and forth within my ribs. The whole of the journey I savored that feeling of being nowhere, alone, before and behind me either eternity or nothingness. #Quote by Tayeb Salih

#21. Ogvald attempted to eat a rack of ribs whilst being serviced by three of his favorites simultaneously.

Sadly, the feat required rather more coordination than anticipated, and unlike his concubines, the good king inhaled when she should have swallowed. #Quote by Jay Kristoff

#22. Liam really enjoyed a good movie. He found it restful to watch people's conversations without being expected to join in. But he always felt sort of lonesome if he didn't have someone next to him to nudge in the ribs at the good parts. #Quote by Anne Tyler

#23. Music was coming from somewhere. Riddle whirled around to stare down the empty Chamber. The music was growing louder. It was eerie, spine-tingling, unearthly; it lifted the hair on Harry's scalp and made his heart feel as though it was swelling to twice its normal size. Then, as the music reached such a pitch that Harry felt it vibrating inside his own ribs, flames erupted at the top of the nearest pillar.
A crimson bird the size of a swan had appeared, piping its weird music to the vaulted ceiling. It had a glittering golden tail as long as a peacock's and gleaming golden talons, which were gripping a ragged bundle.
A second later, the bird was flying straight at Harry. It dropped the ragged thing it was carrying at his feet, then landed heavily on his shoulder. As it folded its great wings, Harry looked up and saw it had a long, sharp golden beak and a black beady eye.
The bird stopped singing. It sat still and warm next to Harry's cheek, gazing steadily at Riddle.
"That's a phoenix...." said Riddle, staring shrewdly back at it.
"Fawkes?" Harry breathed, and he felt the bird's golden claws squeeze his shoulder gently. #Quote by J.K. Rowling

#24. There's this anomaly that happens sometimes with twins. It occurs in the womb when the fetuses are growing too closely to each other. The stronger twin develops normally, while the weaker twin crumples and is encased by the body of the stronger twin, where it becomes a parasite. The result is a single child, plagued by a twin-shaped fossil inside. Like a tumor.
In death Rose became Linden's parasitic twin. They were two separate organisms once, growing steadily beside each other. Two pulses. Two brains. But she has crumpled and died, and still he carries her inside himself. She goes where he goes, feeling nothing, seeing nothing, a shadow behind his ribs. #Quote by Lauren DeStefano

#25. Another time I cracked two of the vertebrae in my back and broke a rib. #Quote by Zakk Wylde

#26. I stood there, staring at the closed doors. I reached out and touched the bone handle.
You can fix this, I told myself. You can make this right. But I just stood there, frozen, Mal's words ringing in my ears. I bit down hard on my lip to silence the sob that shook my chest. That's good, I thought as the tears spilled over. That way the servants won't hear. An ache had started between my ribs, a hard, bright shard of pain that lodged beneath my sternum, pressing tight against my heart.
I didn't hear the Darkling move; I only knew when he was beside me. His long fingers brushed the hair back from my neck and rested on the collar. When he kissed my check, his lips were cold. #Quote by Leigh Bardugo

#27. Ky glared at the dwarf. He lunged for the bank, landing with the upper half of his body flat on at least partially dry ground. The edge sank beneath his weight and cold water crept up his shirt. By the time it reached his ribs, he was shivering. But he hung on, and between digging his elbows in and kicking his heals like a frog in a wallow, he managed to crawl clear of the muck and roll over on his back.
Migdon stooped over him, jaw jutting in a frown. "You could've just asked for help."
Ky spat out a mouthful of mud and stayed where he was, gazing up at the ice blue sky of mid-morning. #Quote by Gillian Bronte Adams

#28. Because,' he said, 'I sometimes have a queer feeling with regard to you, especially when you are near me, as now; it is as if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly and inextricably knotted to a similar string situation in the corresponding quarter of your little frame. And if that boisterous channel, and two hundred miles or so of land, come broad between us, I am afraid that cord of communion will be snapped; and the nI've a nervous notion I should take to bleeding inwardly. As for you, you'd forget me.'
'That I never would, sir; you know -,' impossible to proceed.
[...]
The vehemence of emotion, stirred by grief and love within me, was claiming mastery, and struggling for full sway and asserting a right to predominate - to overcome, to live, rise, and reign at last; yes, and to speak.
'I grieve to leave Thornfield; I love Thornfield; I love it, because I have lived in it a full and delightful life, momentarily at least. I have not been trampled on. I have not been petrified. I have not been buried with inferior minds, and excluded from every glimpse of communion with what is bright, and energetic, and high. I have talked, face to face, with what I reverence; with what I delight in, with an origin, a vigorous, and expanded mind. I have known you, Mr. Rochester; and it strikes me with terror and anguish to feel I absolutely must be torn from you forever. I see the necessity of departure; and it is like looking on the necessity of death.'#Quote by Charlotte Bronte