Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Flapped. Share them with your friends on social media platforms like Facebook, Twitter, or your personal blogs, and let the world be inspired by their powerful messages. Here are the Top 100 Flapped Quotes And Sayings by 94 Authors including J.k. Rowling,Laozi,Kim Harrison,William Shakespeare,Mark Twain for you to enjoy and share.
from yet another pocket inside his overcoat he pulled an owl - a real, live, rather ruffled-looking owl - a long quill, and a roll of parchment.
Simple, like uncarved wood.
Slicker than snot on a door handle.
Hot and hasty, like a Scotch jig.
I had longed to be a butterfly, and I was one at last. I attended private parties in sumptuous evening dress, simpered and aired my graces like a born beau, and polkaed and schoisched with a step peculiar to myself - and the kangaroo.
Either birds or bats flapped up and into the night as the gates rolled back into position. My money was on bats. Little blingy ones, carrying tiny Louis Vuitton clutches.
Sulphurous wind gusted in his wake; the dust of the street swirled and the folds of his black coat flapped against his thin body.
If you turned sideways and stuck your tongue out, you could probably pass for a zipper.
He wore a candy-cane scarf and a red pom-pom hat. Every time the wind started up, his pom bounced on the air like a bobber.
My spirit shook its always-fettered wings half loose;
rippling response stroking over his cock.
ripped the paper
Wriggled to avoid the lump that always seemed directly under
If you want to fly, you have to flap your own wings!
two legs, no wings, and holding something pointy over its head.
Soft as the padded blow of a cat's paw
out and folding it against
It was as if someone had left
the bird there
as a kind of telegram
of feathers, oily feathers
that looked like they'd struggled,
shuttered a little before letting go
into flight
forever.
When we were unloading or going into a restaurant, the raisin got stepped on and smeared like a flapjack. The Hawk was displeased when he saw that. "Goddamn," he growled, "I gave you guys a hundred to get off cigarettes. I'll give you two hundred to get rid of these damn raisins!
My butterfly dress was visible on the washroom floor, bent and shredded wings and all. Cheeks hot, I remember what he'd suggested before someone shot him.
His eyes found the dress too. I was teasing about that. Unless you were looking forward to it. Then I meant every word.
The cage door opened and the cuckoo bird fell, fell, fell, until finally her stunted wings opened, and she found that she could fly.
A pair of jaybirds came up from nowhere, whirled up on the blast like gaudy scraps of cloth or paper and lodged in the mulberries, where they swung in raucous tilt and recover, screaming into the wind that ripped their harsh cries onward and away like scraps of paper or of cloth in turn.
Beautifully wrapped. She reached for her tape, pulled the end - and got the sliver left on the roll.
a misbegotten cockwaffle.
Feather by feather the goose is plucked.
A wing or a thigh? Ah, I'm afraid we don't have any thighs left.
If the wind had taken me to you,
I would have held tight to the skirts of the wind.
I miss you so much that I would fly to you faster than a bird;
But how can a bird with a clipped wing fly
and pulled . . . like taffy.
He called it a ptero-dactyle, meaning 'wing-fingered.
To hatch a crow, a black rainbow
Bent in emptiness
over emptiness
But flying
I had always thought that vaginas, with their flaps and folds, looked somehow unfinished.
Poised for flight, Wings spread bright, Spring from night into the Sun.
Oh No! My wings are effed up!
Fingers interlocked like a beautiful accordion of flesh or a zipper of prayer
I feel like I've been fitted for wings.
I tugged at the hem of my brand-new Hecate Hall issue blue plaid skirt (Kilt? Some sort of bizarre skirt/kilt hybrid? A skilt?)
Hand closed around the
So exquisitely slopped that he didn't know if he was on land or at sea.
Bat, pigeon, ravens - I don't care about distinctions right now. Any fluttery, flappy thing is not cool with me.
The answer is blowin' in the wind.
I sutured split infinitives and hoisted dangling modifiers and wore out the seam of my best flannel skirt.
What... is the wind in that door?
Like an eagle, dude. Like a freaking bald-assed eagle.
Swish and flick.
Though what bird in the best of circumstances does not look a little stricken?
Everything ungirt, artless, ardent, urgent about Louie was to the fore: all over herself she gave the impression of twisted stockings.
Just for fun I flew in huge banking arcs, taking deep breaths, enjoying the feel of my newly weightless hair. The stylist had called it "wind tossed."
If only she knew.
tightly, without
Everyone has their wings, it just so happens that mine are black.
I'm not a big one for lots of genitals flapping in the films.
Whacked away under the desk like hail on a barn roof.
She took a leap of faith and
grew her wings on the way down.
Mouth sewn shut. Eyelids sewn shut. I forgot myself. The wind inside. Everything shut, and the wind inside.
I swung my hips around like I unscrewed at the waist.
Shuttered like a fan no-one suspects your shoulder blades of wings. While you lay on your belly I kneaded the hard edges of your flight. You are a fallen angel but still as the angels are; body light as a dragonfly, great gold wings cut across the sun.
Rowdy Roddy cut his locks; but don't worry woman, he's still a fox.
Rank, rump-fed harpy.
Hesitated; swooped again; hesitated again; swooped once more
She covered her body with a feather, reached under her legs, and threw her panties into the audience. A flying herpes rag. A hipster with mutton-chop sideburns caught it. He crumpled it in his fist and thrust it into the air excitedly. His little venereal prize. A
He had a newspaper rolled in his hand, bearing down on me like a puppy that had piddled on the carpet.
"Bad Chloe," I muttered.
"What?"
I'd forgotten his bionic hearing. "Bad Chloe." I gestured at the rolled-up paper and put
out my hand. "Get it over with.
I'm not backing down until you talk to me."
"What?" I asked, cupping my hand to my ear. "I can't hear you over the flapping sound of my loose vagina."
The corner of his mouth lifted, and he almost laughed. "Is that what that noise is?" he asked. "I thought it was the air conditioner.
A rune, hovering like an angel: a shape like two wings joined by a single bar.
If I see something sagging, bagging or dragging I'll get it nipped, tucked or sucked.
Pussies [10w]
Pussies are like parachutes ~
they work best when wide open.
The box was nearly finished now, she thought, although it moved so quickly, in the padded claws, that it was difficult to see ... Abruptly, it floated free, tumbling end over end, and she sprang for it instinctively, caught it, and went tumbling past the flashing arms, her treasure in her arms.
closed behind Anne
The beaded purple top scooped low, showing off quite a bit of cleavage. And by quite a bit, I mean holy hell balls, that's a lot of boobage.
The door swung open under
there was many a slip twixt cup and lip.
Staring down at his napkin, he resembled a scruffy heron. Tempest,
My hand-stitched wings itch
to take flight
to test the winds of change
that inevitably blow
at the end
of a cycle.
It snapped in juicy protest.
I did a whole concert in Atlanta with my fly open, and I had a black suit on and a white shirt. My white shirt was protruding from the fly.
It looked like a bird - in the same way that a wolf looked like a lapdog.
landed on my chest and stuck its proboscis
He was still immersed in the dim, wet wonder of the folded wings that might open if someone loved him; he still hoped, probably, in a butterfly's unthinking way, for spring and warmth. How the wings ache, folded so, waiting; that is, they ache until they atrophy.
I put a hand between my legs. Yup, everything was still there; then I goosed Peter.
He laughed. "Hey, now ... "
"I was just checking to make sure all the important parts were still attached."
"Jeez, D ...
White angel wings, made up from thousands of short feathers, now surrounded him.
"Uh. Bird?" She pointed dumbly, unable to form a single coherent though more.
"Harpie." He gave her a glare that could have killed.
Loosen your girdle and let er fly!
The wind funnelled down the covered platform, jostling the passengers and tearing at their clothes. A woman's scarf whipped by overhead, somersaulting as if intoxicated by the sudden taste of freedom.
You have escaped the cage. Your wings are stretched out. Now fly.
Persephone flapped a hand as if it were too difficult for her to explain.
She tangled her words
like matted fishing lines
It was a denim jacket. With this cover in place, Mouse hastily got his pants back in order. Instead of a teacher, as he'd expected, the new kid, Beckett Taylor, had bestowed dignity upon him.
Piglet opened the letter box and climbed in. Then, having untied himself, he began to squeeze into the slit, through which in the old days when front doors were front doors, many an unexpected letter than WOL had written to himself, had come slipping.
What surprised him most, however, was the logic of his wings. They seemed so natural on that completely human organism that he couldn't understand why other men didn't have them too.
We all have wings, but they have not been of any avail to us and if we could tear them off, we would do so.
Take joy in who you are, we know our wings are flawed.
liberally equipped with one-way pockets
She discovered the wings she never knew she had.
Hal: " ... Then we'll leave in a huff, taking you with us."
"I've always wanted to travel in a huff," Ingvar mused. "It sounds very comfortable. I imagine they're well padded."
"Lined with feathers, in fact," Gilan put in.
Whatever it is, it's better in the wind.
Wings are made to Fly
Her glass wings are gone.
Mischief Managed.
All this talk of folds and rods and buttons. Are we copulating or sewing draperies?
Discombobulated.
engine, picked up the pages, ripped off the rubber band, and
I was swinging like a toilet door on a prawn trawler.
twisted her words into