It’s not that we have to quit this life one day, but it’s how many things we have to quit all at once: music, laughter,the physics of falling leaves, automobiles, holding hands,the scent of rain, the concept of subway trains... if only one could leave this life slowly!
His hand lay across my stomach as he slept soundly. I entwined my fingers with his and breathed through the warmth that seeped through my chest. Such a simple, sweet thing to do, yet holding hands in bed was incredibly intimate.
His hand glides down my arm, folds over my hand. His fingers lace with mine, palms kissing. I can feel the fast thud of his heart through this single touch.
I felt sad.I felt cold.I felt hurt.I felt forsaken and lonely.I felt doubtful and hesitant.I felt scared and deeply worried. I felt different, unknown, and unwelcome.I felt empty and woefully neglected.I felt weak and intimidated.I felt withdrawn and shy.I felt utterly hopeless.Then you held my hand, and I felt better.
Gold authenticity can only be tested under maximum fire. The same holds true with regard to manhood.
Miss Morstan and I stood together, and her hand was in mine. A wondrous subtle thing is love, for here were we two, who had never seen each other until that day, between whom no word or even look of affection had ever passed, and yet now in an hour of trouble our hands instinctively sought for each other. I have marveled at it since, but at the time it seemed the most natural thing that I would go out to her so, and, as she has often told me, there was in her also the instinct to turn to me for comfort and protection. So we stood hand in hand like two children, and there was peace in our hearts for all the dark things that surrounded us.
The groups in different areas that were affiliated with us knew one thing for sure, and that is that they could trust and respect the base. When you look at it, people want to know they have someone in their corner for the worst. Scrooge, former leader of the Rebellion Raiders street gang that once boasted of having some ten thousand members
There's a big moon shining on the yard, chalking our way onto the lane and along the road. Kinsella takes my hand in his.As soon as he takes it, I realise my father has never once held my hand, and some part of me wants Kinsella to let me go so I won't have to feel this.It's a hard feeling but as we walk along I begin to settle and let the difference between my life at home and the one I have here be.He takes small steps so we can walk in time. I think about the woman in the cottage, of how she walked and spoke, and conclude that there are huge differences between people.
... but I could also write about love. How a hand can silence thousands of voices and how someone’s smell can make you feel at home even though you’re a million miles away fromhomeand have you ever hurt someone you love? Because you’re angry. Because you’re disappointed and sad and you just really wanted to love and be loved in returnbut life got in the way and you both said things that should never be said and you’re angry but don’t know how to. Because you still feel this strange love for him, but you’re also fucking angry and you want to hit him, but then hug him because hurting him is hurting yourself, and then hit him again because you’re angry! and so you fall on your knees because you’re hopeless to yourself and your own emotionsand that’s love, my friend.
There was a patient who sat with her family in a circle around her, all holding hands. Sister Philomena asked if they would like to join her for prayers and they said yes, they would. They closed their eyes as Sister Philomena whispered the words and I thought this must be the nearest humans get to whatever God is, when they hold hands and listen.
Oh, look, the lights are so pretty,” I said dreamily, having just noticedthem.I smiled at the way the lights were dancing overhead, pink and yellow andblue. I felt some pressure on my arm and thought, I should look over and seewhat’s going on, but then the thought was gone, sliding away like Jell-O off ahot car hood.“Fang?”“Yeah. I’m here.”I struggled to focus on him. “I’m so glad you’re here.”“Yeah, I got that.”“I don’t know what I’d do without you.” I peered up at him, trying to seepast the too-bright lights.“You’d be fine,” he muttered.“No,” I said, suddenly struck by how unfine I would be. “I would be totallyunfine. Totally.” It seemed very urgent that he understand this.Again I felt some tugging on my arm, and I really wondered what that wasabout. Was Ella’s mom going to start this procedure any time soon?“It’s okay. Just relax.” He sounded stiff and nervous. “Just...relax. Don’ttry to talk.”“I don’t want my chip anymore,” I explained groggily, then frowned.“Actually, I never wanted that chip.”“Okay,” said Fang. “We’re taking it out.”“I just want you to hold my hand.”“I am holding your hand.”“Oh. I knew that.” I drifted off for a few minutes, barely aware ofanything, but feeling Fang’s hand still in mine.“Do you have a La-Z-Boy somewhere?” I roused myself to ask, every word aneffort.“Um, no,” said Ella’s voice, somewhere behind my head.“I think I would like a La-Z-Boy,” I mused, letting my eyes drift shutagain. “Fang, don’t go anywhere.”“I won’t. I’m here.”“Okay. I need you here. Don’t leave me.”“I won’t.”“Fang, Fang, Fang,” I murmured, overwhelmed with emotion. “I love you. Ilove you sooo much.” I tried to hold out my arms to show how much, but Icouldn’t move them.“Oh, jeez,” Fang said, sounding strangled.
I'm not asking you to walk in my shoes, I'd never wish my afflictions on anyone. But could you walk beside me on secure ground and reach to hold my hand?
Sit with me, and I'll not be alone.Hold my hand, and I'll not feel alone.Cry with me, and I'll no longer suffer alone.
Instinctively I started to panic when Dr. Martinez strapped my arm down, andthen the panic just melted away, la la la.Someone took my other hand. Fang. I felt his calluses, his bones, hisstrength.“I’m so glad you’re here,” I slurred, smiling dopily up at him. I took inhis startled, worried expression but dismissed it. “I know everything’s fineif you’re here.”I thought I saw his cheeks flush, but I wasn’t too sure of anything anymore.
For now, he and Meg were going to have the adventure of seeing a new place and having a new experience. Together.He wasn't human. Would never be human. And Meg didn't expect him to be. But feeling her hand in his, Simon thought maybe he could learn to be human enough.
He rolled his eyes and took my hand. His hand was hard and calloused, tough with muscle and old scars.The night settled around us like a blanket. I could hear the water lapping against the dock. We were totally alone.“You’re . . . ,” he began, and I waited, heart throbbing in my throat. “Such a pain,” he concluded.“What?” I asked, just as his head swooped in and his mouth touched mine. I tried to speak, but one ofFang’s hands held the back of my head, and he kept his lips pressed against me, kissing me softly but with a Fanglike determination.Oh, jeez, I thought distractedly. Jeez, this is Fang, and me, and . . . Fang tilted his head to kiss me more deeply, and I felt totally lightheaded. Then I remembered to breathe through my nose, and the fog cleared a tiny bit. Somehow we were pressed together, Fang’s arms around me now, sliding under mywings, his hands flat against my back.It was incredible. I loved it. I loved him.It was a total disaster.Gasping, I pulled back. “I, uh—,” I began oh so coherently, and then I jumped up, almost knocking himover, and raced down the dock. I took off, flying fast, like a rocket.
Sometimes, reaching out and taking someone's hand is the beginning of a journey.At other times, it is allowing another to take yours.
Finally, I laugh. Genuine and normal sounding. And then my date says the best thing that he couldpossibly say: “It’s okay. I haven’t been on one of these [dates] in a while either.”My smile triples in size.Josh grins. “Just give me your hand.”“W–what?”“Your hand,” he repeats. “Give it to me.”I extend my shaking right hand. And – in a moment that is a hundred dreams come true – JoshuaWasserstein laces his fingers through mine. A staggering shock of energy shoots straight into myveins. Straight into my heart.“There,” he says. “I’ve been waiting a long time to do that.
Her hand gripped his, and even amid the fear and danger he marveled at the feeling that came with the contact. If we die holding hands in this way, will we enter the next dream together?
Ah, what happiness it is to be with people who are all happy, to press hands, press cheeks, smile into eyes.
As we were about to cross the road, Davin suddenly grabbed my wrist and held me back a moment; a car peeled out of the driveway and roared past us. “Geez,” I gasped, and then, glancing at him curiously, I added, “Thanks.” He didn’t say anything, but slowly released my wrist. Before he completely withdrew, I took his hand and interlaced my fingers through his. He looked at me, his lips parted in surprise, but then he smiled shyly and gave my hand a squeeze as we kept walking. It gave me a feeling of nervous flutters in the best way. As we walked up to the doors, Jill and Laurel came bursting out the exit.
She closed her eyes, and I closed mine, and even though we weren't holding hands, it felt like we were.Because what we had, we knew.
I always knew there was no one who is going to accept my flaws and understand my brokenness.And i knew it very well that nobody would hold my hand when the wind of darkness overcome my life so i just pushed them,i pushed them all away.
When you see zombies, they're typically in a horde. A big group close together, as if they were just holding hands before you saw them and they quickly let go.
Isaiah grabs my hand and leads me away from the police...My heart stutters. He's holding my hand. A guy is holding my hand. Touching it. Like his fingers entwined with mine. I've never held a guy's hand before and it feels good. So good. Warm. Strong. Awesome. And it would only be a million times better if the guy holding my hand liked me.