Best 27 quotes in «matilda quotes» category

It was one of those golden autumn afternoons and there were blackberries and splashes of old man's beard in the hedges, and the hawthorn berries were ripening scarlet for the birds when the cold winter came along. There were tall trees here and there on either side, oak and sycamore and ash and occasionally a sweet chestnut.

Never do anything by halves if you want to get away with it. Be outrageous...

Tanner Stone was way too sure of himself. Too many women had been letting him have it all his own way.

Not even an advancing All Blacks haka could have dragged him away from the swing of her ass

Saliva mucusque

She shut her eyes to block out the image. This was all kinds of madness. “Tanner.” Matilda opened her eyes at the sound of her voice. It was deep and ragged, almost a growl. Maybe a plea. “Tanner, what?” he asked, his voice as husky as hers as he flicked his gaze to her face. “Tanner, stop? Tanner, leave?” He slid a hand low on her stomach, the muscles beneath tensing in anticipation. “Tanner touch me?” A lazy finger stroked the skin just above the waist band of her boxers, the sensation coursing white hot need straight between her legs.

No-one got rich being honest, the customers have to be diddled

This allowed her two glorious hours sitting quietly by herself in a cozy corner, devouring one book after another. When she had read every single children's book in the place, she started wandering round in search of something else.

This was screwing. One hundred percent pissed-off, nail-raking, neck-biting, wall-fucking screwing.

What on earth were you trying to do, make yourself look handsome or something? You look like someone's grandmother gone wrong!

What did she do to you?" Matilda asked. "I don't want to talk about it," Miss Honey said. "It's too horrible." "But surely you could have complained to somebody?" Matilda said. "To whom?" Miss Honey said. "And anyway, I was far too terrified to complain. I told you, I was her slave." "Did she beat you?" "Let's not go into details," Miss Honey said.

With frightening suddenness he now began ripping the pages out of the book in handfuls and throwing them in the waste-paper basket. Matilda froze in horror. The father kept going. There seemed little doubt that the man felt some kind of jealousy. How dare she, he seemed to be saying with each rip of a page, how dare she enjoy reading books when he couldn't? How dare she?

You treated me like a fool and you played with my heart, like it was one of your damn footballs.

You’ve shaped me into this woman I never wanted to be. There are bits of myself I don’t even like.

As if your ego needs any more stroking. If it took form right now it’d be a giant hard on.

You chose books, I chose looks . Now see the difference?

You chose books. I chose looks.

A saint? Tanner Stone was the anti-Christ.

Better than an orgasm? Clearly the woman was having lousy orgasms.

Era davvero uno strano spettacolo guardare quella personcina seduta, i cui piedi non arrivavano a terra, completamente assorta nelle meravigliose avventure di Pip e della vecchia signorina Havisham con la sua casa piena di ragnatele, persa nell'incantesimo che Dickens, il grande inventore di storie, aveva saputo creare.

How dare he look so freaking smug like he’d just ticked an item off a sex list? Going down on Matilda. Check.

If you think I haven’t been fantasising about your mouth around my cock, then you’re crazy

Ik heb gemerkt, juffrouw Engel, in mijn lange loopbaan in het onderwijs, dat een rotmeisje veel gevaarlijker is dan een rotjongen. Bovendien zijn ze veel moeilijker klein te krijgen. Een rotmeisje te grazen nemen is als achter een bromvlieg aan zitten. Je mept erop en het gore kreng is alweer weg. Rotmormeld, die meisjes.

I like this skirt. Makes a guy wonder just how to get a girl out of it.

I’ll wash. Looks like brute strength is required.” Matilda wasn’t about to argue. Might as well put those ridiculous muscles to good use. “I doubt I could write them into submission somehow.” “No,” Tanner agreed, heading to the sink and flicking on the taps, intent on filling the industrial size sink and agitating the water as he squirted in some detergent. “You could, however, write about how I heroically and uncomplainingly scrubbed pots for hours while being witty and charming all at the service of some of the city’s less fortunate.” “You want me to add in how woodland animals came in from the alley to befriend you?

I libri le aprivano mondi nuovi e le facevano conoscere persone straordinarie che vivevano una vita piena di avventure. Viaggiava su antichi velieri con Joseph Conrad. Andava in Africa con Ernest Hemingway e in India con Kipling. Girava il mondo restando seduta nella sua stanza, in un villaggio inglese.

It’s been a long time,” he murmured, prowling towards her, drawing to a halt just out of reaching distance. Not long enough. Not nearly long enough as the incredible mix of soap, deodorant, and cologne he wore so well had her body responding like he was an original glazed Krispy Kreme. Still warm from the oven. Dear God...he did still smell good enough to eat.