Blue Sweater Famous Quotes & Sayings
21 Blue Sweater Famous Sayings, Quotes and Quotation.
My English was limited to vacationing and not really engaging with Americans. I knew 'shopping' and 'eating' English - I could say 'blue sweater,' 'creme brulee,' and 'Caesar salad,' - so I came here thinking I spoke English.— Salma Hayek
A little blue-eyed blonde in a red hot sweater, wants to spice my chili, I think I'll let her.— Toby Keith
Would you like to have dinner with me?"— Andrea Cremer
"You mean go on a date?" I focused on stirring instead of my suddenly racing heart. "When?"
"Before the union. Have dinner with me and I'll take you to Blood Moon for a couple of hours until it's time for the ceremony." His fingers moved from the pleats to the hem of my sweater, his hand slipping under the pale blue cashmere to stroke the skin of my lower back.
I gasped, caught his wrist in my fingers, and pulled his hand away from its provocative exploration.
"We are in class," I hissed at him through clenched teeth.
Hey, look - Harry's got a Weasley sweater, too!"— J.K. Rowling
Fred and George were wearing blue sweaters, one with a large yellow F on it, the other a G.
"Harry's is better than ours, though," said Fred, holding up Harry's sweater. "She obviously makes more of an effort if you're not family.
It was against the rules, but Gansey crouched down beside her, one of his knees against her back, one against her knees, and hugged her. She curled against him, hands balled up against his chest. He felt a hot tear slip into the dip of his collarbone. He closed his eyes against the sun through the window, burning hot in his sweater, foot falling asleep, elbow grinding into the metal bed frame, Blue Sargent pressed up against him, and he didn't move.— Maggie Stiefvater
Clenched Soul— Pablo Neruda
We have lost even this twilight.
No one saw us this evening hand in hand.
While the blue night dropped on the world.
I have seen from my window
the fiesta of sunset in the distant mountain tops.
Sometimes a piece of sun
burned like a coin in my hand.
I remembered you with my soul clenched
in the sadness of mine that you know.
Where we you then?
Who else was there?
Saying what?
Why will the whole of love come on me suddenly
when I am sad and feel you are far away?
The book fell that always closed at twilight
and my blue sweater rolled like a hurt dog at my feet.
Always, always you recede through the evenings
towards the twilight erasing statues.
I found this." He put the briefcase on the table and opened the locks. She saw a stack of papers, an evidence bag with a red seal. He pulled a college notebook with a blue plastic cover from one of the pockets. Black fingerprint powder spotted the cover. "I tried to clean it up," he said, wiping the grime on the front of his sweater. "I'm sorry. It was in Allison's car and I..." He flipped through the pages, showing her the scrawled handwriting. "I can't," he said. "I just can't."— Karin Slaughter
She realized that Will hadn't looked at her once since walking into the room. He had such an air of defeat about him, as if every word that came from his mouth caused him pain.
His training had a fatal flaw: he cared. He asked me what I wanted to eat for dinner. He knew I liked green, and if he had a choice between a blue sweater and a green one, he'd buy the green one for me even if it cost more. I like swimming, and when we traveled, he made it a point to lay our route so it would go past a lake or a river. He let me speak my mind. My opinion mattered. I was a person to him and I was important. I saw him treat others as if they were important. For all of his supposed indifference, there is a town in Oklahoma that worships him and a little village in Guatemala that put a wooden statue of him at the gates to protect them from evil spirits. He helped people, when he thought it was right.— Ilona Andrews
There was no one color that could paint Lena Duchannes. She was a red sweater and a blue sky, a gray wind and a silver sparrow, a black curl escaping from behind her ear.— Margaret Stohl
"I'm destined to die a virgin." My own admission shocked me. Had those words left my mouth? I rubbed the smooth material of Noah's jacket. Maybe I should have gone off with him. Not to get high, but to ... well ... not die a virgin.— Katie McGarry
***
"HOLY CROW, ECHO. You hibernate for a year and a half and wake up with a bang." Lila finished changing out of her church clothes and into a tight pink sweater and blue jeans. "Luke tells you he still loves you - and by the way, told you so. And Noah stinking Hutchins tries to kiss you. And you complained you were going to die a virgin."
Buddhist monk Maha Ghosananda was quoted by author Jacqueline Novogratz in The Blue Sweater: "If you move through the world only with your intellect, then you walk on only one leg. If you move through the world only with your compassion, then you walk on only one leg. But if you move through the world with both intellect and compassion, then you have wisdom.— Whitney Johnson
Gotanda swung by at either-forty. He was wearing a perfectly ordinary gray V-neck sweater over a perfectly ordinary blue button-down shirt with- you got it - perfectly ordinary cotton slacks. And still he looked striking. Extraordinarily so.— Haruki Murakami
Great sweater, by the way. Cashmere?" Baffled, Eve looked down at her navy turtleneck. "I don't know. It's blue.— J.D. Robb
I got sent to a health camp when I was about 6 years old, and we all had to wear the same starchy blue uniform. The lady who took care of me after school knit me a burgundy sweater. It was the only thing that gave me any individuality.— Barbra Streisand
I wrote 'The Blue Sweater' to inspire more people to become engaged in working to solve the problems of global poverty.— Jacqueline Novogratz
Blanche, prosaic in a pale yellow sweater and blue jeans, was wondering again if anything mattered - -life, faith— Regina Doman
specifically, finishing homework assignments.
Blue," he warned, but his voice was chaotic. This close, his throat was scented with mint and wool sweater and vinyl car seat, and Gansey, just Gansey.— Maggie Stiefvater
She said, "I just want to pretend. I want to pretend that I could.
Teachers, parents, guidance counselors ... all of them are always pushing this crap about how it's okay to be different, just be yourself. Don't give in to peer pressure, blah, blah, blah. The truth is, it's really only okay to be yourself if that self is within an accepted range of "normal." You like soccer instead of basketball, Johnny? Well, okay, I guess, so long as you still like sports. What's that, Susie, you want to wear the blue sweater instead of the red? You know we're all about expressing individuality here ... so long as it's still a sweater.— Stacey Kade
The voice came first, then the chill across her skin. A moment later, Noah Czerny joined her, dressed as always in his navy Aglionby sweater. Joined was perhaps the wrong verb. Manifested was better. The phrase trick of the light was even more superior. Trick of the mind was the best. Because it was rare that Blue noticed the moment Noah actually appeared. It wasn't that he gently resolved into being. It was that somehow her brain rewrote the minute before to pretend that Noah had been slouching beside her all along.— Maggie Stiefvater
Autumn comes— Janice Mirikitani
like a buyer of cloth,
her long fingers
touching,
turning orange,
yellow, brown.
taking what she wants,
stretching
the bone taut air.
Her skin crackles beneath
our feet.
I didn't think anyone wanted me,
bruises pulled
like a sweater around
my neck.
We talk
in the pore tightening air,
branches bare,
about the girl buried in the chill
of prewinter.
We show each other
our mutilated children
in the guise of women
as autumn plucks
at our lips.
Each color,
blue, black, ochre
popping like kisses
on the rib lined flesh,
the puberty soft things.
And we muse
how women
keep bruises
hidden
beneath dead
leaves.
When he reached the desk he handed Caroline a photograph in a dark blue cardboard frame. It was a portrait, black and white, faintly tinted. The woman looking out wore a pale peach sweater. Her hair was gently waved, her eyes a deep shade of blue. Rupert Dean's wife, Emelda, dead now for twenty years. "She was te love of my life," he announced to Caroline, his voice so loud that people looked up.— Kim Edwards
