Skins Quotes - Page 39

Riley squinted. He ran his fingers along my neck. When he found the collar he explored the surface and tried to tug it. "No seams. It doesn't fell like metal. The colour is amazing". "Why?" (Trella) "It blends in. It matches your skin. Didn't you know?" (Riley) "No mirrors in my cell." (Trella) He gasped with mock horror. "So cruel! How did you ever survive?" (Riley)

I just feel like this skin is mine. It's aging every day and the tattoos are aging with me. So, I'm going to be an old piece of paper one day with a lot of work on it.

I like monsters in general - that's what I like to write about. Somebody was joking with me that my body was becoming a manual for a role-playing game because I'm covered in little monsters. That's true. I could easily have more monsters on my skin.

I always use a really simple analogy: if you're putting organic food on your table because you care about eating well, shouldn't you be trying to do the same with what you're putting on your body? Our skin is our biggest organ. Everyday you are absorbing things through it. The way that a cream without the right ingredients can affect you, everything you put on your skin matters.

There's more than one way to skin a cat, my father used to say; it bothered me, I didn't see why they would want to skin a cat even one way.

It's almost impossible to separate the actions, or it's also, it's almost impossible to separate the oppression and exploitation, criminal oppression and criminal exploitation of the American negro from the color of the skin of the person who is the oppressor or the exploiter.

Naked violence repels like the naked skeleton shorn of flesh, blood and the velvety skin.

sloughing my skin / escaping it's grip / stripped of my wit / it hurts to be me .

Peeling off my skin / leaving just my eyes behind / You see inside my head / Still know that you are mine.

I felt a tickle on my skin; it took me a moment to realize that Cole was driving his die-cast Mustang up my arm. He was laughing to himself, hushed and infectious, as if there was still any reason to be quite.

This be OK?' I asked, innocently. 'You want me to have no skin left?' You rolled your eyes. Actually, don't answer that one.

I remember that feeling of skin. It's strange to remember touch more than thought. But my fingers still tingle with it.

Poetry is the skin that I have between my body and the world's body.

Silk and Shadows is something else. Like brilliant. It got under my skin as very, very few books have. It's still under my skin. Mikhal was haunting.

Whatever the tiny bubbles sitting beautifully on the surface of the absolutely delicious-looking skin around his forehead and neck were, they were doing a lot for his overall appearance...and for my heart rate.

I loved him so much. It didn't change all the reasons we couldn't be together, but it kept me returning to his body, kept my skin seeking his skin over and over again in the sad dance we did.

His lips pressed against her forehead and she felt him smile against her skin. "Believe me...the only place in the world I want to be is wherever you are." -Grant Morgan

I've noticed that the less makeup I wear, the less I need it because my skin starts to look better - my face doesn't break out as often and I have fewer skin problems because I'm not clogging your pores every single day with makeup.

He laughed. The laugh could strip the skin off an elephant in seconds.

It's as if I've inherited a skin I cannot quite fit, and so I walk about constantly pulling and and tugging, pinning and pruning, trying desperately to fill it out, hoping that no one will look at me struggling and say, 'That one there- she's a fraud, Look how she doesn't fit at all.

While I did complete high school, I would have to say that it was by the skin of my teeth. My education ever since then has been one that I got "on the job" and I consider myself a very well-educated person at this point!

I'm a good skin, natural makeup kind of gal.

I stuff my mouth with old fabric and scream until there are no sounds left under my skin.

it seemed a lifetime ago i'd lain in bed with Lena and felt her breath tickling my chin and held her while she slept, felt her heart beating through her skin to mine. it was a lifetime ago. everything was different.

That's the beauty of the cure. No one mentions those lost, hot days in the field, when Thomas kissed Rachel's tears away and invented worlds just so he could promise them to her, when she tore the skin off her own arm at the thought of living without him.