Imagine someone so infatuated by a band that they have every different pressing of every album the band made. Most of the time, the only difference in the album is the matrix number or a different 'made in' notation on the back cover or label. This i...
Farmer: [at press conference to discuss UFOs] I saw Bigfoot once! [everyone in thr room reacts. The Farmer stands up] Farmer: 1951! It made a sound that I would not want to hear twice in my life. [sits down]
[examining one of the gauntlets for his new and improved Batsuit, Bruce presses a button, and the spikes are launched across the room, narrowly missing Fox before they bury themselves in the wall] Lucius Fox: Perhaps you should read the instructions ...
[Blake captures Selina at the airport] John Blake: I showed your picture to the Congressman. Guess what? Selina Kyle: Don't tell me, still in love? John Blake: Oh, head over heels. Pressing charges, though.
[during a press conference in the Vatican] Archbishop Gilday: The Pope, is gravely ill. Until he recovers, I am powerless. B.J. Harrison: What if he dies? Frederick Keinszig: Then, as you Americans say, all bets are off.
Javert: He will pay, and so must I - press charges against me sir. Jean Valjean: You have only done your duty; it's a minor sin at most, all of us have made misjudgements, you'll return sir to your post.
Eli: [reading part of his newest novel at a press conference] The crickets and the rust-beetles scuttled among the nettles of the sage thicket. "Vámonos, amigos," he whispered, and threw the busted leather flintcraw over the loose weave of the saddl...
First assistant director: I understand she [Norma Desmond] First assistant director: was a terror to work with. Cecil B. DeMille: Only toward the end. You know, a dozen press agents working overtime can do terrible things to the human spirit.
Andrea Beaumont: You're not smiling, Joker. I thought you found death amusing. The Joker: Oh, me? You won't hear a giggle out of me. [Joker presses a button. Hazel the Robot laughs maniacally and attacks with a cleaver]
Buck Laughlin: Excuse me if this off the subject a little bit, but just take a guess at how much I can bench press. Come on, what do you think? Take a guess. 315 pounds, at the top of my game, maxing out at 500!
People leave imprints on our lives, shaping who we become in much the same way that a symbol is pressed into the page of a book to tell you who it comes from. Dogs, however, leave paw prints on our lives and our souls, which are as unique as fingerpr...
Sasha gets a raw deal from the press. She makes one mistake in her program and people rip her for not pulling it off when it counts. But she never falls apart. She never just completely folds and misses everything. Usually it's just one mistake.
Why did you do this? You could lose your job or worse.” “I wanted to spend some time alone with you. Tomorrow, you might be leaving for good.” He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. Reluctantly, he pulled away. “You’re worth the risk.
Who, if I cried, would hear me among the angelic orders? And even if one of them suddenly pressed me against his heart, I should fade in the strength of his stronger existence. For beauty's nothing but the beginning of terror we're still just able to...
Four flips the gun in this hand, presses the barrel to Peter's forehead, and clicks a bullet into place. Peter freezes with his lips parted, the yawn dead in his mouth. "Wake. Up," Four snaps. "You are holding a loaded gun, you idiot. Act like it.
That first time, when he presses his lips against mine and kisses the words ‘I Love You’ right down into the very heart of my soul, that’s when I knew we were about to be ripped apart. -Morgan
I try to ignore the fact that I can feel Kieren's hard-on against my ass and that it's perfectly pressing into me. I tell my suddenly happy cunny to stop quivering with excitement. Naughty, puss, that's creepy Kieren rubbing on you. Stop purring, dam...
I can feel Peeta press his forehead into my temple and he asks, 'So now that you've got me, what are you going to do with me?' I turn into him. 'Put you somewhere you can't get hurt.
He placed the tip of his fingers on her chin and tilted her head up to his. Rylan slowly closed her eyes as she felt his breathing quicken. The chill of his lips as they pressed against hers made her buckle at the knees, falling even further into him...
Annabeth?” Percy said again. “You’re planning something. You’ve got that look.” “I don’t have an look.” “Yeah, you totally do. Your eyebrows knit together and your lips press together and—” “Do you have a pen?” she asked him...
What can I do with my happiness? How can I keep it, conceal it, bury it where I may never lose it? I want to kneel as it falls over me like rain, gather it up with lace and silk, and press it over myself again.
