Wince Quotes

Authors: A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z
Categories: A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z
i-just-think-lots-words-have-physicality-how-about-word-wobble-you-think-thats-arbitrary-when-you-say-word-wince-you-wince-how-about-that
sometimes-on-personal-level-i-wince
theres-certain-edge-about-cruelty-if-youre-honest-about-it-most-people-wince-but-say-it-had-to-be-said
looking-back-i-wince-at-careless-way-i-tossed-out-my-opinions
there-are-scenes-here-effects-here-that-would-make-george-s-patton-wince
when-you-read-author-katharine-holabird-creator-angelina-youre-not-even-mentioned-you-wince
much-as-teacher-may-wince-at-thought-he-is-also-entertainerfor-unless-he-can-hold-his-audience-he-cannot-really-instruct-edify-them-sydney-j-harris
the-movies-i-made-when-i-was-14-15-i-have-hard-time-looking-at-those-those-were-awkward-years-i-dont-know-if-anybody-can-look-at-something-they-did-jodie-foster
there-are-moments-in-life-when-all-we-can-bear-is-sense-that-our-friend-is-near-us-our-wounds-would-wince-at-touch-consoling-words-that-would-honore-de-balzac
designer-pricing-should-hurt-but-it-shouldnt-kill-you-you-wince-when-you-hand-over-your-amex-but-once-you-get-it-home-you-never-regret-it-you-divide-it-by-how-many-days-youre-usi
i-have-hard-time-listening-to-things-ive-recorded-i-dont-necessarily-go-back-enjoy-it-occasionally-ill-have-ipod-on-shuffle-something-will-come-on-nine-times-out-ten-ill-wince-go
a-fly-sir-may-sting-stately-horse-make-him-wince-but-one-is-but-insect-other-is-horse-still-samuel-johnson
maybe-they-notice-me-wincing-whenever-i-hear-them-say-it-but-i-dont-know-there-are-all-sorts-reasons-i-could-be-wincing-life-is-wincethon-frank-portman
it-just-made-me-realize-that-i-wouldnt-have-anything-if-you-left-he-said-miserably-jake-gave-pained-wince-looked-down-at-floor-i-wouldnt-have-anything-if-i-left-either-he-murmure
things-can-be-funny-when-people-are-uneasy-it-softens-them-up-stops-them-falling-asleep-on-sofa-i-like-those-moments-where-people-halfsmile-mark-haddon
what-people-may-think-some-people-cower-wince-shrink-owing-to-fear-what-people-may-think-there-is-one-answer-to-worries-like-these-people-may-think-what-devil-they-please-piet-he
people-wince-when-something-is-in-bad-taste-they-laugh-when-its-funny-if-its-too-dirty-wrong-they-wont-laugh-but-if-its-big-dirty-smart-funny-laugh-michael-patrick-king
The game is a thread, microscopic in breadth, a hint of gossamer drawing unsuspecting souls together in simple competition to the exclusion of all else, from a mother and her infant playing peekaboo to two old men hunched over a chessboard and everything in between. The game unifies, joining father and son pitching baseballs at night after a long day at the office, pitches pounding the mitt or skipping past, one time even knocking the coffee cup handle clean off and the boy scampering off to retrieve a wild one as the dad sips and ponders. The game allows brothers to bond even when the age gap is too great for real competition, their mutual effort to fashion a bridge between disparate age and ability forming a bond of trust and respect. And finally, it is the game's presence and past and its memory that inspires each of us to forgive time and aging and their inevitable accompanying attrition because the gray and hobbled old man before me was once lean and powerful and magnificent and some of what became of him was due to the investment he made in me and after all the batting practice he threw and grounders he hit, his shoulder aches and his knees need replacement. Even though youth masks it so you don't realize it all when you're a kid, someday it happens to you and suddenly you realize you are him and you are left wishing you could go back and tell him what you now know and perhaps thank him for what he gave up. You imagine him back then receiving nothing in return except the knowledge that you would someday understand but he could not hasten that day or that revelation and he abided it all so graciously knowing that your realization might be too late for him. So you console yourself that in the absence of your gratitude he clung to hope and conviction and the future. Turn the page and you find yourself staring out at the new generation and you wince as his pitches bruise your palm and crack your thumb and realize that today the game is growth and achievement and tomorrow it will be love and memories. The game is a gift.

Drew Rogers
the-game-is-thread-microscopic-in-breadth-hint-gossamer-drawing-unsuspecting-souls-together-in-simple-competition-to-exclusion-all-else-from-mother-her-infant-playing-peekaboo-to
What do we have here?' Grant slurs at me. He seems different and it raises flags in my mind. His fingers wrap around a section of my hair and it scares me. His face is flushed red and his eyes are glassy and bright. I can smell the smoky scent of whiskey or scotch rolling off his tongue as he speaks and breathes heavily. 'I'm lost and I need a ride home.' My voice wavers as I speak and I hate it. I fist my hands in the hem of my blazer. 'I'll get Albert for you, but first spend some time with me, ' he slurs again, sounding like his tongue is too large for his mouth. As if sensing my attention, the tip of his tongue sneaks out and slides along his supple bottom lip. He smiles as he tastes the alcohol that's staining his mouth. His eyes are bright and shiny and glazed over. He has a smirk on his face that shows off his dimple. It no longer reminds me of Whitt. It seems sinister and dangerous- promising something I'm not ready to experience. The feel of his fingers playing with my hair gives me goosebumps and I shiver as my scalp tightens, sucking up the pleasant attention. I do my first stupid-girl moment of my life. I shameless crush on a guy and let it turn my thoughts to mush. 'Okay, if you promise to call Albert first.' I try to negotiate with him and he gives me a naughty smirk for agreeing. He backs me up with his physical presence. His front touches mine- chest-to-chest. His lips part and breathes the smoky, whiskey scent onto my chin. My back hits the door behind me with an audible thump. He reaches around me and I don't wince. I anticipate him touching me and crave it. Instead, his hand twists the doorknob by my hip and I fall backwards. I'm pushed into a dark room until my legs connect with the edge of a bed. I can't see anything, and the only sound is our combined breathing. I feel alive with caution. I'm aware of every hair, every nerve on my flesh. My senses are so in-tuned that I can feel my system pumping the blood through my veins nourishing my whole body.

Erica Chilson
what-do-we-have-here-grant-slurs-at-me-he-seems-different-it-raises-flags-in-my-mind-his-fingers-wrap-around-section-my-hair-it-scares-me-his-face-is-flushed-red-his-eyes-are-gla
Gentleman, ' I purr smoothly in greeting. Ezra and Cort circle me like sharks scenting blood. I know who they are, but not who is who since they're wearing black hoods over their heads. It covers them to the shoulder and has holes for the eyes and mouth. Their clothing is identical Italian designer label suits. Even their shoes are the same. Their eyes glow like steel ball-bearings from the safety of their masks. The mouths are different- one serious, one snarky- both ruby-red and kissable. While they circle Fate and me several times taking our measure, the other Master stands in a sphere of his own confidence. He's older and I don't mean just in age, but knowledge. Ezra and Cortez feel like babies compared to this man. I bet he's who I really have to impress. I wait, always meeting their eyes when their path moves them back to my face. I don't follow them with my gaze- I wait. 'Hello, ' the hood with the serious lips speaks in a smooth deep tone. I know it's not his true voice, but the one Kris calls The Boss. His eyes are kind and assessing. No one pays Fate any mind as she cowers at my thigh. I hold their undivided attention. Curly-locks is quiet- watchful- a predator sighting its quarry. Snarky mouth is leering at my chest and I smirk. Caught ya, Cortez Abernathy. 'I seem to be at a disadvantage conversing with you while you're hooded. I can't see you, but you can see me.' I try to get them to out themselves. It's a longshot. 'And who are you, Ma'am?' Ezra asks respectfully. 'Please call me Queen.' I draw on all of my lessons from Hillbrook to pull me through this conversation. The power in the air is stifling. I wonder if it's difficult for them to be in the same room without having a cage match for dominance. I feel like I'm on Animal Planet and the lions are circling. 'Queen, indeed, ' Cort says snidely under his breath and I wince. I turn my face from them in embarrassment. I should have gone with something less- less everything. I know I'm strong, but the word also emulates elegance and beauty. I'm neither. Have to say, tonight has sucked for my self-esteem. First, the dominant one overlooks me for Fate and now Cortez makes fun of me- lovely. 'What did you say to upset her?' Ezra accuses Cortez. 'Nothing, ' Cort complains in confusion. 'Please excuse my partner. Words are his profession and it seems they have failed him this evening. I will apologize for not sharing our names, but this gentleman is Dexter.' He gestures to the dominant man. I wait for him to shake my hand like a civilized person. He does not- he actually crosses his arms over his chest in disobedience. This shit is going to be a piece of cake.

Erica Chilson
gentleman-i-purr-smoothly-in-greeting-ezra-cort-circle-me-like-sharks-scenting-blood-i-know-who-they-are-but-not-who-is-who-since-theyre-wearing-black-hoods-over-their-heads-it-c