Quotes About Mouth

There is something of yours that i would like to return to you . . . He leaned across the distance between them and caught her mouth with his own.

The knife is my hand is useless. I throw it at the desk, barely registering as the point sinks into the wood. He pulls back from me at the sound, startled. His mouth is pink, his eyes dark. He sees the knife and barks out a startled laugh. page 309

If you don't, the spirits of the newly dead can get in your body through your mouth and then they can possess you.

My wounded hand flies to cover my mouth in horror at the curse, as though to stop the scream, but I don't scream. I haven't screamed this whole time, and I am not going to start now, when there's nothing more to scream about.

I wrench my mouth free and scream, but screams in Faerie are like bird-song, too common to attract much attention.

I think of his horror at his own desire when I brought my mouth to his, the dagger in my hand, edge against his skin. The toe-curling, corrosive pleasure of that kiss. It felt as though I was punishing him- punishing him and myself at the same time. I hated him so much.

The new High King of Faerie lounges on his throne, his crown resting at an insouciant angle, his long, villainously scarlet cloak pinned at his shoulders and sweeping the floor. An earring shines from the peak of one pointed ear. Heavy rings glitter along his knuckles. His most ostentatious decoration, however, is his soft, sullen mouth. It makes him look every bit the jerk that he is.

It was a whole world, his mouth, a whole unsuspected world, and kissing him occasioned the same sense of discovery as sliding a clear drop of plain tap water under a microscope and divining whole schools of fantastic fibrillose creatures, or pointing a telescope at a patch of sky pitch-dark to the naked eye and lo, it is spattered with stars.

The mass of Venom. I mean, he's like a big, foreboding, physical presence. Actually, let me correct myself - the eyes, the tongue, the mouth, those are his most distinguishing traits, and so making those look as photoreal and true to the comics as we possibly could was super important to me.

After a moment, in which he stood with his mouth open, and scratched himself, and looked like he was modeling for a statue of the Greek god of Stupidity

The mouth is small but well shaped, kissable, musical

Hardly have we begun to palpate their grief than we find ourselves wondering whether this particular wound was mortal or not, or whether (in our blind doctoring) it's a wound at all. It might just as well be a mouth, which is as wet and as warm.

skull dust kicked up by a bone saw is a taste that lingers in the mouth very unpleasantly for hours

He was the kind of guy who won the stupid tricks contest at local bars by inhaling a silver chain up his nostril and pulling it out his mouth.

I have opinions on everything. I'm a stubborn old mule. The biggest problem is keeping my mouth shut.

I've conditioned myself to believe that almonds are a completely delicious snack, and that they don't taste like paper or get stuck in the back of my mouth.

I am not a philosopher, only frustrated by the development of the world we live in - and too stupid to keep my mouth shut when I see injustice.

Where the mouth is sweet and the eyes intelligent, there is always the look of beauty, with a right heart.

I was in a beauty contest once. I not only came in last, I was hit in the mouth by Miss Congeniality.

A lawyer is basically a mouth, like a shark is a mouth attached to a long gut. The business of lawyers is to talk, to interrupt one another, and to devour each other if possible.

I attribute my wife's language to the fact that she's one-quarter spaniel. She says she's only an eighth, but, come on, the ears say it all. That and her mouth. (The Faithful Setter)

But singing isn't just about belting it out, is it? It's not just who has the most wobble or the highest note, no, it's about phrasing, and being delicate, and getting just the right feeling from a song, the soul of it, so that something real happens inside you when a man opens his mouth to sing, and don't you want to feel something real rather than just having your poor earholes bashed in?

The room inside looked like the mouth of an alligator—gaped wide open to swallow something down.

And listenin' tuh dat kind uh talk is jus' lak openin' yo' mouth and lettin' de moon shine down yo' throat.