Its Her Quotes

#1. It is only a woman who can make a man feel like a 'superhero' or 'inadequate'.
Its her attention and admiration that a man desperately seeks!

Sanjai Velayudhan

#2. Up in the distance the whistle of the wind sang to her from the mountain. From Lucian's mountain. It beckoned and taunted and she wanted to run towards it. To be enveloped in its coat of fleece and to hear its safe sounds.

Melina Marchetta

#3. She wondered if literature might lose some of its interest when she reached an age or state of mind where her life was set on such a sure course that the things she read might stop seeming so powerfully like alternate directions for her being.

Charles Frazier

#4. She closed her eyes. Her rabbit heart slowed, curled up in its warren, and seemed to become fully itself: warm fur, soft belly. A thrum of breath in the dark. *

Marie Rutkoski

#5. The invigorating scent of the sea was nectar to her wearied body, the immensity of the lonely cliffs was silent and dreamlike. Her brain only remained conscious of its ceaseless, its intolerable torture of uncertainty.

Emmuska Orczy

#6. Yes, I'm often reminded of her, and in one of my array of pockets, I have kept her story to retell. It is one of the small legion I carry, each one extraordinary in its own right. Each one an attempt - an immense leap of an attempt - to prove to me that you, and your human existence, are worth it.

Markus Zusak

#7. Spar felt a tiny thud on the back of his shin, as if a moth had butted against him on its flight through the night air. Wait, had that been the small human? Had she kicked him? He could not tell by glancing at her face.

Christine Warren

#8. The happiest woman sees not gladness alone reflected from her mirror; its surface will inevitably be sometimes dimmed with sighs.

Louise Colet

#9. drag her nest, struggling with its weight, toward the hole in the base of the tree. The other animals which occupied the jungle were beginning to panic. They ran away from the danger

R.W.K. Clark

#10. She's my mate; that makes her mine. Forgetting that will see your neck no longer serving its purpose." "I love it when you talk dirty," she purred. "Give my regards to Lindsay.

Sylvia Day

#11. Her heart was pounding hard, not with excitement but with fear. The head could tell the heart all that was eighteen years over, but in matters of emotion the heart had its own brilliant vocabulary.

Stephen King

#12. But yet it appeared to her so natural, so inevitable to strive against an inclination of that sort unrequited, that she could not comprehend its continuing very long in equal force.

Jane Austen

#13. Beside him, Gauri looked distraught. Chivalry demanded that he
should inquire after the Princess's well- being. She caught
him looking at her and frowned:
"You're heaving like a water buffalo in its death throes."
Never mind.

Roshani Chokshi

#14. The change, she knew, was only in herself; she was relieved of deception, and her mind was free to work on its familiar paths. She recognized for the first time that lies worked damage in two directions.

Rosemary Kirstein

#15. In a society which really supported marriage the wife would be encouraged to go to the office and make love to her husband on the company's time and with its blessing.

Brendan Behan

#16. I can't accept this, my lord. Its too fine a gift, and I am no queen."

Ballard gently pushed it back to her. "You are, Louvaen. You're simply uncrowned.

Grace Draven

#17. Brass is polished by ashes; copper is cleaned by tamarind; a woman, by her menses; and a river by its flow.

Chanakya

#18. But what I cannot settle in my mind is that the end will absolutely come. I hold her hand in mine, I hold her heart in mine, I see her love for me, alive in all its strength.

Charles Dickens

#19. When the personal soul life is burnt to ashes, a woman loses the vital treasure and begins to get dry boned as Death. In her unconscious, the desire for the red shoes, a wild joy, not only continues, it swells and floods, and eventually staggers to its feet and takes over, ferocious and famished.

Clarissa Pinkola Estes

#20. But by spring, she had again yielded to the tug and tide of his mind, allowing its currents to carry her back across the continent and wash them up on the remote shores of his evergreen island..

Ruth Ozeki

#21. Now the world seemed to her to have become so complex that its problems defied solution. There was only a chaos of conflicts of interest; the whole thing filled her with a sense of futility.

Sarah Waters

#22. Our house has its back to the sea,' writes Hester in her journal. 'Below us, the ocean spreads to the sky, twitching wide and blue and hungry. One would think it to be infinite. But we, of course, know better.

Tanya Moir

#23. In some respects, grief for the lost and missing is worse than grief for the dead, and sometimes just for a fraction of a second its intensity makes her wish Mikal would cease to exist, so she wouldn't have to wonder if she will ever see him again.

Nadeem Aslam

#24. Christ, invisible to the bodily eye, manifests Himself on earth clearly through His Church ... The Church is the Body of Christ both because its parts are united to Christ through His divine mysteries and because through her Christ works in the world.

John Of Shanghai And San Francisco

#25. Someone smashed a flutterfler and without even thinking she touched her Stone and used Wyrd to piece its broken body back together. She filled its empty vessels with dreams and it became the stuff it used for blood. It brushed her cheek with its wings, then flew off
dancing in the hot air.

Robert Fanney

#26. And in a terrible moment, though her body chose to fight the monster that was stalking her, her soul refused such a death and leap from her body to continue its flight.

Kate Danley

#27. The cautious wolf fears the pit, the hawk regards with suspicion the snare laid for her, and the fish the hook in its concealment.

Horace

#28. She once told me how she could feel the missing part of her arm- how she sometimes experienced the sensation of a hand- that it is possible to feel something without its physical presence.
Perhaps love is like this and we are all limbs of one giant intangible body.

Simon Van Booy

#29. The secrets of nature are concealed; her agency is perpetual, but we do not always discover its effects; time reveals them from age to age; and although she is always the same in herself, she is not always equally well known.

Blaise Pascal

#30. To exhaustion and beyond they prayed, to that glittering place where the flesh dies and is born again, where all is agony, and finally, just as La Inca was feeling her spirit begin to loose itself from its earthly pinions, just as the circle began to dissolve

Junot Diaz

#31. Her world was at its best when her time came to leave it.

Harper Lee

#32. It seems you didn't understand me," Rakel said, adjusting her grip on his hand. She had to spit the words out around the pain that tore through her. "When I say that love is pure, I mean it stands unrivaled in its power.

K.M. Shea

#33. someone else, bore its way in and feed off that mind too. Even the cute little student mincing along in her flowery dress, the shuffling old fella with his shuffling spaniel, they look Ebola-lethal. I don't know what the fuck is wrong with me. Maybe I'm getting the flu.

Tana French

#34. It was a source of constant disappointment to Catherine Morland that her life did not more closely resemble her books. Or rather, that the books in which she found its likeness were so unexciting.

Val McDermid

#35. The old deep sadness of life lay in the bottom of her heart and she knew it was there, but she would not allow herself to sink into it. Out of the dark and sullen bottom of a lake the lotus flowers bloomed upon its surface, and she would pluck the flowers.

Pearl S. Buck

#36. Her internalization of Catholicism and its institutional disappointments suited a dental office perfectly, where guilt was often our last resort for motivating the masses.

Joshua Ferris

#37. But history is that rare woman who doesn't like to look at herself in the mirror. History, when she finds herself in front of one, wipes and wipes its surface at though in this way she might change her face to something better

Yevgeny Yevtushenko

#38. Dr. Grant was right, the feeling no longer swallows her. Bela lives on its periphery, she takes it in at a distance. The way her grandmother, sitting on a terrace in Tollygunge, used to spend her days overlooking a lowland, a pair of ponds.

Jhumpa Lahiri

#39. I wonder if you're fast as they say," Bessie Weasel chirruped, her hand slowly straying toward the belt.
"Wondering is free," Cinnabar said finally, his voice soft and low. "Certainty has its price".

Daniel Polansky

#40. There was an aura about him that was staggering to her, making it difficult to think. It wasn't mere male heat and sensuality. It was raw sexuality, animalistic in its intensity - and she was starving for it.

Kresley Cole

#41. When the present stung her, she sought her antidote in the future, which was as sure to hold achievement as the dying flower to hold the fruit when its petals wither.

Elspeth Huxley

#42. Situated on an island which I think it will one day cover, it rises like Venice from the sea, and like that fairest of cities in the days of her glory, receives into its lap tribute of all the riches of the earth.

Frances Trollope

#43. I'll talk to her." Mirren's deep, rumbling voice sliced through the room like a cutter ship, leaving silence in its wake. "The rest of you, get the hell out.

Susannah Sandlin

#44. She closed her eyes, listening to the sound of his heartbeat. She always found its rhythm comforting.

Sylvain Reynard

#45. A dark hand had let go its lifelong hold upon her heart. But she did not feel joy, as she had in the mountains. She put her head down in her arms and cried, and her cheeks were salt and wet. She cried for the waste of her years in bondage to a useless evil. She wept in pain, because she was free.

Ursula K. Le Guin

#46. I gave up trying to protect my shattered heart. I gave up trying to be strong. Everything - every single wall I had erected was gone, and in its place was her.

Rachel Van Dyken

#47. Torquelike, fear encircled her throat with its dull constant pressure....
...give the newborn child fresh from his own salt sea a look at the bigger ocean he had crossed. p 20

Marly Youmans

#48. When you marry a woman out of pity, then its a pity that you'll send her away very soon.

Michael Bassey Johnson

#49. The shaman/priest/artist/teacher/leader does not operate for the sole benefit of herself and her kind but for the benefit of the people at large and of the universe and its patterns, as becomes what she perceives as fitting into place, into her sense of natural justice.

Judy Grahn

#50. A glance toward her digital clock showed the numbers twitching and randomly changing on their own, as though her clock couldn't make up its mind on what time it wanted to be.

Kelly Creagh

#51. She looked from her son to Bill and back to her son again, touched by wonder that was mostly simple perplexity but partly a fear so thin and sharp that it found its way deep into her inner heart and vibrated there like a tuning-fork made of clear ice.

Stephen King

#52. In a time lacking in truth and certainty and filled with anguish and despair, no woman should be shamefaced in attempting to give back to the world, through her work, a portion of its lost heart.

Louise Bogan

#53. Every season hath its pleasure; Spring may boast her flowery prime, Yet the vineyard's ruby treasuries Brighten Autumn's sob'rer time.

Thomas Moore

#54. Like a goddess on her azure hill, the star of my ambition, the mistress of my dream; a thing apart, that we can worship, but not touch; a wild desire, that, in the madness of the thought, soars higher in its dignity, and leaves me weeping in the dust.

William Batchelder Greene

#55. I do not envy the owners of very large gardens. The garden should fit its owner or his or her tastes, just as one's clothes do; it should be neither too large nor too small, but just comfortable.

Gertrude Jekyll

#56. Over all life broods Poesy, like the calm blue sky with its motherly, rebuking face. She is the great reformer, and where the love of her is strong and healthy, wickedness and wrong cannot long prevail.

James Russell Lowell

#57. Reggie's earliest memory of her mother began with her mother balancing an egg on its end and ended with Reggie losing her left ear.

Jennifer McMahon

#58. She did have regrets. Thousands of them, and the weight was too heavy for her to keep moving. She was a ship that could not sail, for its anchor - its thousands of anchors - locked it to the sea floor.

Susan Dennard

#59. The lift of her heart she'd felt on the outcrop she now felt again, and it wasn't just love. She'd felt love before, known its depths when her mother died.
This was something rarer. Happiness, Laurel thought, that must be what this is.

Ron Rash

#60. Tell your friends I am the last of a dying race,' it said, grinning its sunken grin as it staggered and lurched down the proch steps after her. 'The only survivor of a dying planet. I have come to rob all the women ... rape all the men ... and learn to do the Peppermint Twist!

Stephen King

#61. It was in looking up at him her aspect had caught its lustre - the light repeated in her eyes beamed first out of his.

Charlotte Bronte

#62. Once there was a girl named Riley, the story began. Her heart was a secret garden, its stone walls cracked and weathered. And it was hungry. p160

Scott Westerfeld

#63. Ramil met Tashi's eyes with a mischievous look. "Now Wife we have a long voyage ahead of us with no interruptions, no affairs of state to sidetrack us." He brushed his fingers againist the lacings of her neck. "Isn't it time you returned that shirt to its owner?

Julia Golding

#64. I wanted to ask her how the same thing could be so ugly and so glorious, and its words so damning and brilliant.

Markus Zusak

#65. But with Celine, she managed to amass a collection of a thousand pieces, each one hand-selected for its historical value and beauty, and then turn her apartment into a masterpiece that you could sit back and enjoy. She wasn't just a collector, she was a curator.

K.A. Tucker

#66. To feel forever its soft fall and swell, Awake for ever in a sweet unrest, Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath, And so live ever-or else swoon in death.

John Keats

#67. She blushed. It is a beautiful thing when a woman blushes; at that instant her body no longer belongs to her; she doesn't control it; she is at its mercy; oh, can there be anything more beautiful than the sight of a woman violated by her own body!

Milan Kundera

#68. A Singularitarian is someone who understands the Singularity and has reflected on its meaning for his or her own life.

Ray Kurzweil

#69. The woman who had been born in an imperial palace, and then, as Queen of France, had had hundreds of rooms in her dwelling house, was now imprisoned in a tiny basement cell, its walls streaming with damp, and its grated window half occluded.

Stefan Zweig

#70. The world will lose its treasures if everyone depends on someone to think for him/her! The world will lose its pleasures if everyone depends on someone to make him/her happy!

Israelmore Ayivor

#71. Remember what Mommy said about what to do when something scares you?" "Name it," she whispered. "Exactly." Her mother's smile softened. "If you give the monster a name, it takes away its power, because we're really just afraid of what we don't know. If

J.M. Darhower

#72. She holds every dress briefly by its shoulders like it's a schoolkid she's checking out for smudges before church. Then one by one they get flung away from her and into the fire.

Mary Karr

#73. If there was one thing Brenda Dyerson was good at, she knew it, was cooking up the scraps destiny had laid out on its plates for her.

Tiffany Baker

#74. It was the incommunicable scent of this country, its intangible essence, that she had brought along with her to France.

Milan Kundera

#75. (Joan,1941) She wrote me a letter asking,"How can I read it?,Its so hard." I told her to start at the beginning and read as far as you can get until you're lost. Then start again at the beginning and keep working through until you can understand the whole book. And thats what she did

Richard Feynman

#76. Shame isn't bad, her voice from somewhere else insists. Nor the humility that is its gift.

William Trevor

#77. Pace, like everything else in writing, involves a trade-off. If you're not offering the reader a lot of action to keep her interested, you must offer something else in its stead. Slow pace is ideal for complex character development, detailed description, and nuances of style.

Nancy Kress

#78. But no temple made with hands can compare with Yosemite. Every rock in its walls seems to glow with life ... as if into this one mountain mansion Nature had gathered her choicest treasures ...

John Muir

#79. They lived in this fashion for most of the year before the credit line of her patience finally reached its limit.

Viet Thanh Nguyen

#80. The wall clock and her wristwatch had stopped, their sweep hands no longer wiping away the seconds, and the digital clock on the microwave had gone dark, as if something that lived outside of time had stepped into this world and brought its clockless ambiance with it.

Dean Koontz

#81. She glided away towards the lift, which seemed hardly needed, with its earthly and mechanical paraphernalia, to bear her up to the higher levels.

Anthony Powell

#82. He only felt a traitorous part of his body that wanted to be connected to her. But he knew better than to listen to that part of himself. It had a mind of its own that could get him into all kinds of nightmares if he let it.

Sherrilyn Kenyon

#83. Her voice echoed and its volume took him by surprise. He walked to the rock's edge, wanting to listen to it until the last echo disappeared, wanting to capture it in his hands.

Melina Marchetta

#84. The cat looked as if it were about to say something sarcastic. Then it flicked its whiskers and said, Challenge her. There's no guarantee she'll play fair, but her kind of thing loves games and challenges.

Neil Gaiman

#85. Science stands, a too competant servant, behind her wrangling underbred masters, holding out resources, devices, and remedies they are too stupid to use ... And on its material side, a modern Utopia must needs present these gifts as taken.

George Herbert

#86. A girl's gotta get her glam on when the world turns its back on her.

Melissa Landers

#87. Prejudice, like the spider, makes everywhere its home. It has neither taste nor choice of place, and all that it requires is room. If the one prepares her food by poisoning it to her palate and her use, the other does the same. Prejudice may be denominated the spider of the mind.

Thomas Paine

#88. The sun was rising in the distance, pulled up by its lazy, invisible string, and the sky was shot through with color. Her hair was washed in gold, her cheeks, in gold, and her eyes were as knowing as a psychic's.

Brittany Cavallaro

#89. The woman who purposely destroys her unborn child is guilty of murder. With us there is no nice enquiry as to its being formed or unformed.

Saint Basil

#90. Every heart is a universe within its own galaxy that is ready to accommodate many others in her immeasurable depth.

Debasish Mridha

#91. The chambermaid believed in courtly love. A book's physical self was sacrosanct to her, its form inseparable from its content; her duty as a lover was Platonic adoration, a noble but doomed attempt to conserve forever the state of perfect chastity in which it had left the bookseller.

Anne Fadiman

#92. In private places, among sordid objects, an act of truth or heroism seems at once to draw to itself the sky as its temple, the sun as its cradle. Nature stretches out her arms to embrace man, only let his thoughts be of equal greatness.

Ralph Waldo Emerson

#93. My intention was to grapple with the metaphysical meaning behind Scheherazade and present that meaning in its essence. Scheherazade is the symbol of the savior. She weaves tales not to save her own life, but to save humanity from its unending retributive response to injury.

Alonzo King

#94. Long ago she'd learned that facing reality was inevitable. She could skulk about, trying to avoid it or pretending it wasn't there. But in the end, reality always found her. And its finding her seemed a
harsher blow than if she'd faced the situation straight on from the very start.

Tamera Alexander

#95. Her despair may have gone, but it had left its heaviness draped over her, thick and bleak.

Laini Taylor

#96. Lucrezia has never seen her own face, and cannot know its expressions
how, at that moment, her smile was an explosion.

Lauren Groff

#97. I'm not running for president because I think I'm blessed with such personal greatness that history has anointed me to save our country in its hour of need. My country saved me. My country saved me, and I cannot forget it. And I will fight for her for as long as I draw breath, so help me God.

John McCain

#98. Men have been found to deny woman intellect; they have credited her with instinct, with intuition, with a capacity to correlate cause and effect much as a dog connects its collar with a walk.

W. L. George

#99. ...I could feel her burrowing into my heart. I didn't know if the burrowing was like a kitten cuddling up to its mother or if it was like a chigger depositing its larvae underneath the skin of my ankles.

Jason Porter

#100. 97. I approached the symbol, with its layers of meaning, but when I touched it, it changed into only a beautiful princess.
98. I threw the beautiful princess headfirst down the mountain to my acquaintances.
99. Who could be relied upon to deal with her.

Donald Barthelme