Black Silk Quotes

#1. here George Eliot had progressed through the bookshelves. Roland saw her black silk skirts, her velvet trains, sweeping compressed between the Fathers of the Church, and heard her firm foot ring on metal among the German poets. Here

A.S. Byatt

#2. Niccolo Machiaveli stood apart from the rest of the crowd, arms lightly folded across his chest, careful not to wrinkle his Saile Row- tailored black silk tuxedo. Stone gray eyes swept over the other bidders, analyzing and assessing them.

Michael Scott

#3. And I'm sure than in Poland, or somewhere, it is considered cool to drive a Porsche and wear necklaces and black silk, but at least back in Brooklyn if you did those things you were either a drug dealer or from New Jersey.

Meg Cabot

#4. From the way her buttocks looked under the black silk dress, I knew she'd be good in bed. The silk was tight and under it the muscles worked slow and easy. I saw weight there, and control, and, brother, those are things I like in a woman.

Jonathan Latimer

#5. Bump stood in the middle of the room, wrapped in a heavy fur coat, with a black silk top hatcovering his fuzzy head and unnecessary sunglasses hiding his pale face. He looked like the Abominable Snowpimp.

Stacia Kane

#6. Mother, of course, takes a lot of exercise, walks and so on. And every morning she puts on a pair of black silk drawers and a sweater and makes indelicate gestures on the lawn. That's called Building the Body Beautiful. She's mad about it.

Nancy Mitford

#7. When the beaded curtain parts with a sound like rain, it is Marco who enters the fortune-teller's chamber, and Isobel immediately flips her veil from her face, the impossibly thin black silk floating back over her head like mist.

Erin Morgenstern

#8. Someone tried to bribe me the other day," she muttered, thinking of Charles Monroe and his black silk robe.
"With?"
"Nothing as interesting as steak.

J.D. Robb

#9. In the dark I rest,
unready for the light which dawns
day after day,
eager to be shared.
Black silk, shelter me.
I need
more of the night before I open
eyes and heart
to illumination. I must still
grow in the dark like a root
not ready, not ready at all.

Denise Levertov

#10. What is the fabric of time like? Black silk? A smooth twill, a rough tweed? Or lacy and fragile like something Mrs. Baxter would knit?

Kate Atkinson

#11. Here Carlyle had come, here George Eliot had progressed through the bookshelves. Roland could see her black silk skirts, her velvet trains, sweeping compressed between the Fathers of the Church, and heard her firm foot ring on metal among the German poets.

A.S. Byatt

#12. Lounging indolently in a black silk robe which was loosely tied at the front and which appeared to conceal nothing more than bare skin ... she made a conscious effort not to stare at the bare legs with their sprinkling of dark hair ... was he even wearing underwear? she thought

Cathy Williams

#13. Camille leaned forward. When she did, the neckline of her black silk blouse gaped open. If Simon had still been human, he would have blushed. "Will you let me see it?"
Simon could actually feel his eyes pop out. "See what?

Cassandra Clare

#14. Bakhchisaray was formerly the capital of the Crimean khanate and once an important crossroad of the Silk Road, where traders met from across the Black Sea, the steppes of Central Asia, Russia, and eastern Europe.

Tim Cope

#15. Robes, dresses, frocks. They hung in endless rows, in hundreds, one beside the other all around the room - gleaming brocade, fluffy clouds of tulle and swansdown, flowery silk, night-black velvet with glittering spangles everywhere like small, many-coloured blinker beacons.

Tove Jansson

#16. I fell in love with her partly because I understood what she was doing with her work. I fell because she understood what she was doing with it. I also fell in love because she was wearing a sexy black dress and silk stockings, the kind that hook with garters.

Stephen King

#17. I hammered on the Poes' front door like Alaric on the gates of Rome. Poe said that a gaudy figure of speech was a silk cravat around a dirty neck. He didn't say whether the truth lay in the plain thing or in its fancy.

Norman Lock

#18. Natasha, in her lilac silk dress trimmed with black lace walked, as women can walk, with the more repose and stateliness the greater the pain and shame in her soul.

Leo Tolstoy

#19. His name was Mr. Quan and he was the concierge, which explained the black suit and the lavender shirt but not the oversized bow tie in chrome-yellow silk. Perhaps nothing could.

Carsten Stroud

#20. My perspective is hard because I look at wardrobe from very much a guy's perspective. You look at my closet and I have pairs of black jeans and five button-downs, but one's silk, one's cotton. They all are slightly different, so that's my perspective.

Erin Wasson

#21. She wore a black pantsuit with a white silk shirt that had an almost metallic sheen to it. He wondered whom she had already gone into mourning for; then he reminded himself that she was the type of woman who mourned damaged reputations and lost opportunities, not human beings.

Christopher Rice

#22. Strangely enough, it wasn't Gabe who was haunting my thoughts, though. That job belonged to a pair of sinfully black eyes that had lost their edge when they studied me, turning as soft and sultry as silk.

Becca Fitzpatrick

#23. Thank God he wasn't in full uniform or her panties might have melted.
Who was she kidding? The strap of silk covering the good china was already toast just looking at him in his form-fitting jeans and a black polo with the Salvation Police Department logo.

Avery Flynn

#24. Red-heeled shoes and silk stockings clocked in black. Gray satin breeches with silver knee buckles. Snowy linen, with Brussels lace six inches deep at cuff and jabot. The coat, a masterpiece in heavy gray with blue satin cuffs and crested silver buttons, hung behind the door, awaiting its turn.

Diana Gabaldon

#25. Corn wind in the fall, come off the black lands, come off the whisper of the silk hangers, the lap of the flat spear leaves.

Carl Sandburg

#26. [...]They offended Hood,' he stated flatly.
'And How they did that?' Silk enquired.
'They demanded a tithe upon the temple. I demonstrated Hood's tithe.'
'And who are you to judge?' Smokey demanded. The lad's Dark, almost blue-black eyes edged aside to Smokey. 'I am Hood's Sword.

Ian C. Esslemont

#27. She was not filled up with the sight of him, the way she had seen her sisters fill up, like silk balloons, like wineskins. Instead, he seemed to land heavily within her, like a black stone falling.

Catherynne M Valente

#28. In fifteen hundred years someone will figure out a way to squeeze black juice out of the yellow sand, and that will get everyone very excited. Some people who were rich already will get a lot richer, and some people who were poor will be told that they're richer but will be pretty sure they're not.

Louise Carey

#29. We call that fire of the black thunder-cloud "electricity," and lecture learnedly about it, and grind the like of it out of glass and silk: but what is it? What made it? Whence comes it? Whither goes it?

Thomas Carlyle

#30. And who shall you be once you don your grand disguise?"
"La luna," she said with a smile.
"Then I shall be la notte to your moon" Archer lifted the hard black mask he held and slipped it over his thinner silk one

Kristen Callihan