Quotes About Blanket

Poetry wrapped around my heart like a cozy blanket Quills in my brain ink running through gray matter rivulets Dead authors ghosting through my soul...

I'm protesting adulthood— in my blanket fort, coloring.

By the time the doctor came, we had lifted my father's body to the couch and covered it with a blanket. The doctor was a thin, sturdy man, bald, with thick glasses. He lifted the blanket and looked. He dropped the blanket. "He's dead, all right." I

The King smoothed the blanket on Thackeray's back. He opened his mouth, and shut it. Then he opened it again, and after a moment, said, "You used to call me Papa, do you remember that?" The question took Azalea back. "No," she said.

If you have ever slept in a covered casserole dish on the highest peak of a mountain range, then you know that it is an uncomfortable place to lay one's head, even if you find a dish towel inside it that can serve as a blanket.

The passageway was still as dark as a bar of extra-dark chocolate sitting in a planetarium covered in a thick, black blanket

In spite of the poor economy, almost 70 percent of Americans occasionally splurge on luxury items -- like a blanket on a plane, or a peanut.

The pine shadows moved across my blanket, the wall behind me. People were just like that. We couldn't even see each other, just the shadows moving, pushed by unseen winds.

I'm a believer, but an unsettled one. I think it has something to do with the fact that my grandmother always told me she would come back and tickle my feet at night time when she passed away. She hasn't gotten me yet. But I keep the blanket over my feet at night, no matter how hot it is.

All of a sudden my arms were full of the most fantastic life, frenetic, impossible to hold on to even if I'd wanted to, and I wanted to. But then all I was holding was the blanket, because my father had jumped into the river. And that's when I discovered my father hadn't been dying after all. He was changing, transforming himself into something new and different to carry his life forward.

perpetuity in a home is a blanket for the cold years that come with age.

But the shrieking went on and on, primal, almost glad—this protest was righteous. I couldn't make up my mind whether the baby was male or female; the only certainties were near baldness and incandescent rage. The kid didn't like its blanket, or its rattle, or the lap it was sat on, or the world . . . the time had come to demand quality.

He made a story for all of them, a story to give them strength. The words of the story poured out of his mouth as if they had substance, pebbles and stone extending to hold the corporal up...knees from buckling...hands from letting go of the blanket.

Sniff lay under his blanket and screamed. "Now it's right over us!" said Moominpappa. And at that moment a giant flash of lighting lit up the island, followed by a rending crash. "That struck something!" said the Snork. It was really a bit too much. The Hemulen sat holding his head. "Trouble! Always trouble!" he muttered.

I find anger so comforting. It's like a blanket made of unresolved issues, but it's a blanket none the less.

I'm not saying Donald Trump voters are a cult at all. I'm saying the attitude of implicit trust, people don't trust politicians like that, and yet a lot of people will profess blanket trust of Trump.

You wait on nature's mischief. Come, thick night, And pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell, That my keen knife see not the wound it makes, Nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark To cry "Hold, hold!

Sun stain on blanket on my feet. Pleasant then clammy. I smell.

Are you sure?" Aidan asked, "Gavriel's still a vampire." "He warned me about you and about them. He didn't have to. I'm not going to repay that by-" she hesitated, then frowned. "What did you call him?" "That's his name," Aidan sighed, "Gavriel. The other vampires, while they were tying me to the bed, they said his name." "Oh." With a final tug she pulled the blanked free and tossed it over to 'Gavriel

normal was a lot more tempting when it was out of reach. Once normal had been a heavy, smothering blanket she feared being trapped beneath. But now normal felt fragile, as though she could unravel it all just by teasing out a single string.

Maybe if we wrap some of those around you, then even if the blanket slips, you won't burn. We can duct-tape it together. As long as you don't mind looking ridiculous." The vampire smiled a closemouthed smile.

The geese are all asleep. A few tip their heads out from under their wings as we approach. I open the cookie tin and a few more sway slowly over to us. It's cold, and Silas has wrapped the green blanket around me so I feel like I have wings, too.

It isn't a club, I said calmly. It's a walking stick. Six feet long. It's traditional Ozark folk art. With dents and nicks all over it. I thought about it for a second. I'm insecure? Get a blanket. He held out his hand. I signed and passed my staff over to him. Do I get a receipt? He took a notepad from his pocket and wrote on it. Then he passed it over to me. It read: Received, one six foot tall traditional Ozark walking club from Mr. Smart-Ass.

This was something she would keep hidden within herself, maybe in place of the knot of pain and anger she had been carrying under her breastbone...a security blanket, an ace up her sleeve. She might never use it, but she would always feel its presence like a swelling secret stone, and that way when she let go of the rage, she would not feel nearly as empty.