I couldn't help shaking my head as I looked at him. Ian slept like a baby every morning - well, a baby who continually kept one hand down his pants.— Jeaniene Frost
Surprising Shaking My Head quotations
Another night I dreamed I heard heavenly music sounding in my ears, and a flock of sheep was gathering round it. When the music ceased, the sheep leaped for joy, and ran together, shaking their heads; and one shook his head almost off, and seemed to have nothing but ears.
Well, for that matter, I was also a good friend of Leonardo da Vinci, Botticelli, Francis Bacon, Albert Einstein, and John, Paul, George, and Ringo." He pauses, seeing the blank look on my face and groaning when he says, "Christ, Ever, the Beatles!" He shakes his head and laughs. "God, you make me feel old.
What is wrong with you?' I shake my head.
'Pull it together.' And that's what it feels like: pulling the different parts of me up and in like a shoelace. I feel suffocated, but at least I feel strong.
Do you want to hang out? At your place or something?" Hanging out with Jimmy Hailler will mean that I have to say hello to him every day. I'm not ready to say hello to him every day. Too much commitment. It's bad enough that I'm sharing chocolate brownies swith him. I shake my head. "Not today.
Our neighbors shake their heads And take their valuables inside While my countrymen piss in the fountains To express their national pride.
Ma's still nodding. "You're the one who matters, though. Just you." I shake my head till it's wobbling because there's no just me.
I shake my head. I pick up the rake and start making the dead-leaf pile neater. A blister pops and stains the rake handle like a tear. Dad nods and walks to the Jeep, keys jangling in his fingers. A mockingbird lands on a low oak branch and scolds me. I rake the leaves out of my throat. Me: "Can you buy some seeds? Flower seeds?
Though I have to admit, I had a good laugh when I realized you thought I was a bloodsucker." He smiles. "Oh, well excuse me. I mean since there are immortals running around, I figure we may as well bring on the faeries, wizards, werewolves, and—" I shake my head. "I mean jeez, you talk about all this like it's normal!
I see so many guys, really athletic guys, wearing pleats and I just shake my head. Like, Tiger Woods used to wear pleated pants! I'm like, 'C'mon, Tiger!'
Falling in love is very real, but I used to shake my head when people talked about soul mates, poor deluded individuals grasping at some supernatural ideal not intended for mortals but sounded pretty in a poetry book. Then, we met, and everything changed, the cynic has become the converted, the sceptic, an ardent zealot.
I was kind of known as a ballad singer.
People would send ballads. Some of them would go over my shoulder and float off the top of my head, and I just didn't feel anything. Then I would hear a song that would absolutely shake me.
We humans will never know how meadows or mountains smell, but deer and horses and pigs do. Bando sniffs deeply and shakes his head. We were left out when it comes to smelling things, he says. I would love to be able to smell a mountain and follow my nose to it.
Andrew..,' I shake my head, tears rolling my cheeks, '... it was always you," I whisper harshly. 'Even with Ian, I felt something was missing. I told you, that night in the field; I told you that...,' My voice trails. I smile and say, 'you are my partner in crime. I've known that for a long time.
Normally, in anything I do, I'm fairly miserable.
I do it, and I get grumpy because there is a huge, vast gulf, this aching disparity, between the platonic ideal of the project that was living in my head, and the small, sad, wizened, shaking, squeaking thing that I actually produce.
My daughter wants to throw a stone at a bad man.
I stop her from throwing, shaking my head and giving her a little slap. My disapproval is complete. You think: 'That's right, she shouldn't throw a stone even at a villain.' Then I hand her a brick to throw.
My head was throbbing, and my hands were shaking, but I went down the ladder to my workroom - and started figuring out how to rip someone's heart out of his chest from fifty miles away. Who says I never do anything fun on a Friday night?
When people nowadays say that Elvis was the first white guy to sound black, I have to shake my head; what can you do? At the time of 'That's My Desire' 1947 they were saying that I was the only white guy around who sounded black.
Beloved, gaze in thine own heart, The holy tree is growing there;
From joy the holy branches start, And all the trembling flowers they bear. The changing colours of its fruit Have dowered the stars with metry light; The surety of its hidden root Has planted quiet in the night; The shaking of its leafy head Has given the waves their melody, And made my lips and music wed, Murmuring a wizard song for thee.
I think any man who lets a woman pick what he should wear.
.. I mean, you gotta draw the line somewhere as a man. I see these guys, 'My wife told me to wear this!' And I just shake my head.
There was one tour where I thought, "If I can't get this feeling back of being excited to be on the stage, then I will quit." Because I have friends who have dialed it in and I watch their concerts and shake my head. I'm sure the audience can tell, too.
Many, many times I would shake my head in dismay at the goings-on in the House of Commons, but that never caused me to lose my fundamental faith in the values of our parliamentary institutions.
"Ah, Miss, hope is an excellent thing for such as has the spirits to bear it!" said Mrs Wickam, shaking her head. "My own spirits is not equal to it, but I don't owe it any grudge. I envys them that is so blest!"
If my former self and my current self met for coffee, they'd get along OK, but they'd both probably walk out of the Starbucks shaking their heads and saying to themselves, “That guy is kinda delusional.”
I shake my head and the tiny acrobats fall like spangles, like the cool rain on another planet, down to the inside of my feet.
Foreigners cannot enjoy our food, I suppose, any more than we can enjoy theirs.
It is not strange; for tastes are made, not born. I might glorify my bill of fare until I was tired; but after all, the Scotchman would shake his head and say, 'Where's your haggis?' and the Fijan would sigh and say, 'Where's your missionary?'
I wanted so badly for there to be more.
I ached for there to be more than my crappy little life.' He shakes his head. 'And there was more. I just couldn't see it.
"Are you trying to tell me that you've never been kissed?" I pressed my tongue to the roof of my mouth. He looked so dubious, and his tone had bordered on insulting. "Yeah. So?" "So, I'm shocked, that's all. You're...you." In-sul-ting. "Me?" I asked stiffly. "Yeah. Hot," he said. Wait. Me? Hot? He laughed down at me. "No one's told you that, either, have they?" I could only shake my head. "You've clearly been hanging around idiots."
You’re too important to just … die.
” He shakes his head. He won’t even look at me—his eyes keep shifting across my face, to the wall behind me or the ceiling above me, to everything but me. I am too stunned to be angry. “I’m not important. Everyone will do just fine without me,” I say. “Who cares about everyone? What about me?
I want your hands on my head.” I nod and edge back to make room for him. “Does it calm your racing thoughts?” He shakes his head, then takes my hand and spreads it open over his wide chest, his voice textured as he traps my gaze with his. “It calms me here.
You shy, Francesca?” Javier asks me later on.
I shake my head. “Not really.” I’m just sad, I want to say. And I’m lonely.
You never get involved in the people's lives? The ones you're inhabiting?" I shake my head. "You try to leave the lives the way you found them." "Yeah." "But what about Justin? What made that so different?" "You," I say.
No guest rooms.” I shake my head resolutely. “I want to be in a room room. A lived-in room.
This isn’t happening to you, princess,” Sabine snapped before I could do more than shake my head. “This is happening to us. While you spent the past few months prancing around in ignorant bliss, we were all being possessed, or kidnapped, or stalked by this hellion. So dry your tears and take off the tiara, because this is a call to arms, not a pity party. You’re not going to find any sympathy here.
Sometimes I think that Jesus watches my neurotic struggles, and shakes his head and grips his forehead and starts tossing back mojitos.