Quotes About Gesture

she cried and cried and cried, there weren't any napkins nearby so I ripped the page from the book - I don't speak. I'm sorry. - and used it to dry her cheeks, my explanation and apology ran down her face like mascara (..)

I ripped the page from my book - I don't speak, I'm sorry. - and used it to dry her cheeks, my explanation and apology ran down her face like mascara.

Thomas! What are you doing! and I gestured, I thought this was Nothing, covering myself with one of my daybooks ,and she said, It's Something!

Usamos una serie de teatrales señas con las manos para comunicar lo que un simple susurro habría hecho con la misma eficacia. Pero hemos hecho voto de silencio: ni una palabra hasta que estemos a salvo, de camino a casa.

I don't speak, I wrote. I'm sorry. She looked at the piece of paper, then at me, then back at the piece of paper, she covered her eyes with her hands and cried, tears seeped between her fingers and collected in the little webs, she cried and cried and cried, there weren't any napkins nearby, so I ripped the page from the book -I don't speak. I'm sorry.-and used it to dry her cheeks, my explanation and apology ran down her face like mascara,[...]

I want to give you something, or I want to take something from you. But I want to feel the exchange, the warm hand on the shoulder, the song coming out and the ear holding onto it.

Here is my sacrifice: my hummingbird landing in a stranger's palm.

In a gesture of socialist support, the Dear Leader placed his hand upon her.

And Desormie dragged the back of his hand back and forth across his mouth twice. And Brodsky coughed fakely to mask his laughter. And there was no more paste in the mouth-corners of Desormie. And Brodsky would not have to stare at paste while they talked in his office. That was nice of me. I went to the gym.

She put two-fingered guns to her temples when she saw us: red patch of smoker's skin around her mouth like a raw sun rising.

A fog of despair so pervaded the ghetto that the smallest gesture of rebellion could seem like a bold, piercing light. Bad, said with a fond expression, was almost always a compliment.

Investments are a real partnership, with an expected return; donations are a gesture made as a result of ethical, religious, or political passions.

At the end of the day, if the guy is going to write the girl a letter, whether it's chicken scratch or scribble or looks like a doctor's note, if he takes the time to put pen to paper and not type something, there's something so incredibly romantic and beautiful about that.

Drawing is like making an expressive gesture with the advantage of permanence.

A rich widow weeps with one eye and signals with the other.

I'll send you a postcard, partner.

genuine courtesy is a creation, like pictures, like music. It is a harmonious blending of voice, gesture and movement, words and action, in which generosity of conduct is expressed. It reveals the man himself and has no ulterior purpose.

A simple compliment goes a really long way - for a guy to just come over and say, 'You have great hair' or 'I really like your dress,' and then just smile and walk away. That's a great move, because he's sort of putting himself out there by doing that, but it won't lead to any embarrassment if the girl isn't interested.

I once took the key off my girlfriend's key ring so that I could surprise her when she got home. So I did this whole romantic setup in our bedroom with flowers and rose petals. She was so mad when she got home, but then when she walked in, she was so surprised.

I bought a girl roses once.

It would be presumptuous to say writing a book would be a sufficient gesture, but if people were more preoccupied with the past, maybe the events that overwhelm us would be fewer.

The worst gift that I ever gave a girl was a suitcase for Christmas. As in, 'I can't think of anything to give you, but here's a new suitcase.' Afterward, I was like, 'What were you thinking, idiot?'

All who seek you test you. And those who find you bind you to image and gesture. I would rather sense you as the earth senses you. In my ripening ripens what you are.

Who says that all must vanish? Who knows, perhaps the flight of the bird you wound remains, and perhaps flowers survive caresses in us, in their ground. It isn't the gesture that lasts, but it dresses you again in gold armor--from breast to knees-- and the battle was so pure an Angel wears it after you.