#palm

There was some sort of commotion going on outside, and I decided I’d had enough. I went to the door and stuck my head out. Marco was gasping for breath on the sofa, and two of the guards were bent over a cell phone. “What are you doing?” I demanded. “Trying to record this,” the smart-ass from the shopping trip told me. “Nobody is going to believe us otherwise.” “Well, cut it out. It isn’t funny!” “On what planet?” I glared at him, which did no good,because he simply went back to to tinkering with the phone. So I looked at Marco. “Can’t you do anything with them?” Marco flopped a hand at me, tears streaming down his reddened cheeks, and tried to say something. But all that came out for several moments were asthmatic wheezes. I bent over his prone form, starting to worry about him, and he put a hand on my neck and pulled me down. ” It…is…funny,” he gasped. ↗

— Karen Chance

#marco #funny

Rowena Clark and I had met on the first day of our mixed media class. I’d sat down at her table and said, “Mind if I join you? Figure the best way to learn about art is to sit with a masterpiece.” Maybe I was in love, but I was still Adrian Ivashkov. Rowena had fixed me with a flat look. “Let’s get one thing straight. I can see through crap a mile away, and I like girls, not guys, so if you can’t handle me telling you what’s what, then you’d better take your one-liners and hair gel somewhere else. I don’t go to this school to put up with pretty boys like you. I’m here to face dubious employment options with a painting degree and then go get a Guinness after class.” I’d scooted my chair closer to the table. “You and I are going to get along just fine. ↗

— Richelle Mead

#carlton-college #flirting #palm-springs #richelle-mead #the-fiery-heart

My swing is no uglier than Arnold Palmer's, and it's the same ugly swing every time. ↗

— Nancy Lopez

#every #every time #palmer #same #swing

The actor should be able to create the universe in the palm of his hand. ↗

— Laurence Olivier

#actor #create #hand #his #palm

Some teachers had been trained to work out at Southern because I carried two out there. I carried a lady down here from Palmer's Crossing, used to play piano, and Billy Carter. ↗

— Charles Phillips

#been #billy #carried #carter #crossing

It is the nature of the strong heart, that like the palm tree it strives ever upwards when it is most burdened. ↗

— Philip Sidney

#ever #heart #like #most #nature

I have no trouble with the twelve inches between my elbow and my palm. It's the seven inches between my ears that's bent. ↗

— Tug McGraw

#between #ears #elbow #i #inches

Normally we are so identified with our thoughts and emotions, that we are them. We are the happiness, we are the anger, we are the fear. We have to learn to step back and know our thoughts and emotions are just thoughts and emotions. They're just mental states. ↗

— Vicki Mackenzie

#anger

Interior of the hand. Sole that has come to walk only on feelings. That faces upward and in its mirror receives heavenly roads, which travel along themselves. That has learned to walk upon water when it scoops, that walks upon wells, transfiguring every path. That steps into other hands, changes those that are like it into a landscape: wanders and arrives within them, fills them with arrival. ↗

— Rainer Maria Rilke

#companionship #palm #poetry #change

My new 9mm didn’t fit my hand as well as my old one, but it was rapidly becoming a familiar weight. At first I’d decided it was okay to wear as long as I shot only at supernatural bad guys who were already shooting at me. Lately, I’d had to broaden that definition to anytime my life was in danger. I was currently leaning toward a slightly more comprehensive rule somewhere between proactive self-defense and the-bastards-had-it-coming, which, if I survived long enough, I intended to blame on my deranged partner rubbing off on me. ↗

— Karen Chance

#humor #karen-chance-sarcasm #humor