Quotes About Naked

They walked back into the world together, wearing the gift that had been given them: just life. Pity was not love, Barbie reflected...but if you were a child, giving clothes to someone who was naked had to be a step in the right direction.

watering the Japanese anemones naked again last week and you know what the police said about that. Liv x The last

I was glad to get in that stall. It was a funny feeling, being naked and fighting a man with a gun. I didn't like it. I felt the bullets would hurt more, naked.

All the things laughed then, because there stood man—naked and bereft of all his gifts. All the things save the fox, who looked up at the man and saw long slim fingers unencumbered by claws, fingers that could grasp and take and reshape things to suit man's own purposes. And saw eyes alive with a dreadful intelligence unencumbered by wisdom. And fox was suddenly afraid.

The moon bathed his naked figure in light as his fingers reached to touch the stars, his hair streaming.

The scene was shocking, a horror show, and incongruous with the pretty bucolic setting of the country. Apple trees. Horses in the pasture. And a naked woman bound to a board and being dunked repeatedly.

Stage fright is my worst problem. A voice is very intimate. It's something of your own. So there's always this fear, because you feel naked. There's a fear of not reaching up to expectations.

I asked what you think I should get Katie for Christmas." He'd lost almost as much sleep worrying about that as he'd lost to picturing her naked. "A vibrator, since you're too chickenshit to get the job done yourself." Josh's jaw dropped, and then he closed his mouth with a snap. "I can't believe you just said that.

It's all right." He stretched his shoulders out, the flesh between his blades sore, which meant his grizzly hump had grown while he was still human. Rare and not good. "Really. It's all right. And I can understand if you're not comfortable staying here tonight." He looked up at her. "Or if you want some space or…if you…if you…why are you getting naked?

However many intellectual pleasures a book may offer up, it's usually your emotional connection to the memoir's narrator that hooks you in. And how does she do that? A good writer can conjure a landscape and its peoples to live inside you, and the best writers make you feel they've disclosed their soft underbellies. Seeing someone naked thrills us a little.

Back in Pittsburgh, if someone had infiltrated the library with fifty squirrels, that person would have been hailed as a hero. But Ellingham was full of library lovers, and there was the feeling in the air that this was, perhaps, a bridge too far. You could be naked, you could scream and hang out on the roof, but you do not mess with the place with the books.

He stood looking up at her; it was not a glance, but an act of ownership. She thought she must let her face give him the answer he deserved. But she was looking, instead, at the stone dust on his burned arms, the wet shirt clinging to his ribs, the lines of his long legs. She was thinking of those statues of men she had always sought; she was wondering what he would look like naked. She saw him looking at her as if he knew that.

it was astonishing to discover that the lines of her shoulder were fragile and beautiful, and that the diamond band on the wrist of her naked arm gave her the most feminine of all aspects: the look of being chained.

If joy is the aim and the core of existence, she thought, and if that which has the power to give one joy is always guarded as one's deepest secret, then they had seen each other naked in that moment.

and the diamond band on the wrist of her naked arm gave her the most feminine of all aspects: the look of being chained.

The statue of a naked woman. If you understand the building, you understand what the figure must be. The human spirit. The heroic in man. The aspiration and the fulfillment, both. Uplifted in its quest - and uplifting by its own essence. Seeking God - and finding itself.

The place is built around it. The statue of a naked woman. If you understand the building, you understand what the figure must be. The human spirit. The heroic in man. The aspiration and the fulfillment, both. Uplifted in its quest - and uplifting by its own essence. Seeking God - and finding itself.

Power. The word fixed in my mother's mind like a curse. In America, it had generally remained hidden from view until you dug beneath the surface of things; until you visited an Indian reservation or spoke to a black person whose trust you had earned. But here power was undisguised, indiscriminate, naked, always fresh in the memory.

When the soldiers seize him, all his disciples flee. But there is someone else there, "a young man" who is "clothed with a linen cloth over his naked body." The soldiers grab this unnamed man, but he escapes, nude, leaving them with the linen cloth in their hands (Mark 14:51–52). Who is this person

Adam and Eve don't seem very conscious, at the beginning, when they are first placed in Paradise, and they were certainly not self-conscious. As the story insists, the original parents were naked, but not ashamed.

When I woke up I was naked. I have this one oddball idiosyncrasy: Sometimes in my sleep I take off all my clothes.

I'm worried because of my mother, she's going to see my performance and she's quite hard. She's going to see me naked. And my Dad, woah. Yeah, they're going to see me like a woman, you know?

Since he preferred to sleep naked as Poseidon,

Three hundred miles away, in Philadelphia, forty-nine-year-old Benjamin Franklin sits naked in his bedroom. He is reading a book with the windows wide open while enjoying the rejuvenation of his daily "air bath.