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Here's the stuff we found when you searched for "she throws up her hands in disgust"

When she woke up, her hands were still dreaming
She was a committed romantic and an anarcha-feminist. This was hard for her because it meant she couldn't blow up beautiful buildings.
Robert Lionel Fanthorpe fills up the word count in a science fiction novel: she brushed her teeth
She picked herself up, wiping away at her dignity
She didn't wave goodbye so much as slightly raise her hand
She is so beautiful, I gave up Nihilism for her
You put a hand on her hip, she permits it.
Throw your hands (up) in the air, (and) wave them all around like you (just) don't care
I come home, she lifted up her wings. I guess that this must be the place.
Sometimes the apathy she saw made her want to curl up and cry
The old hands you’ve baked around hers
Veronica loves manipulating her vagina until she explodes
i gave her my heart. she gave me a pen.
she had already found her party
His hand speaks a foreign language to her ribs.
She hopes I'm cursed forever to sleep on a twin size mattress, never graduating up in size to add a lover.
Dust mop so magic she can not believe how fun it is to clean up after people
Her smile could light up a three-story building
She opened her eyes and spoke in a very normal voice, just as if she were sane
My hands on her back; slipping into sleep
Call her up, tell her how love is not a question.
The emotion on her face was always the one that she was feeling in her heart
She found her bliss between the headphones, and pursed her lips.
she gave her heart to a falling star
She thought about giving him her heart
Dig up her bones
She was never mine. I always shared her.
I don't tell her these things, and she doesn't ask
She does not rustle but her flesh has the moonlit shade of a silver birch
Her self image was not the force field she imagined it to be
And she, with her beautiful words and such a fire burning inside
She who leaves men as flaming wrecks in the ditch on the side of the road in her wake, yea, even submarines
Susan Goldman, who has cervical cancer, is partly thankful as she braces herself but changes her mind as she's sprayed with burning jet fuel.
She asked me to read her a poem
she doesn't write, doesn't tell you stories, but somehow it's her words that spring to mind at those crucial, terrifying moments, and for that you are eternally grateful
the way she wears her weary
everyone on Halloween should show up with a severed hand
Throw me to the sky and let the clouds tear me up
She is a night of dark trees, but he who is not afraid of her darkness will find banks full of roses under her cypresses
She lights everything up. He glows in the dark.
She wakes me up by tickling my feet
She left me on the boardwalk with my head held in my hands.
She said, while hugging a bowl of turnips close to her bosom
She wears her failed relationships like a shield
Her perception of how gorgeous she is will be evident in her lack of movement during sex
Take Her up to Monto
keep your hands up
She sat in virginal white, eyes closed, with only her face in rose
Would you like to penetrate her shell, insinuating yourself among the pages of the books she is reading?
Performing her communion with quick slashes up and down her arm
She plugs her tears in the way you'd keep a dam from breaking
You can play with my ex-girlfriend, but treat her like the lady that she is.
Tied up tight, like a bride on her wedding night
She handed me my first sharpened pencil.
it was just as if she held her breath for 82 years
She does not take her trip. She does not shout out loud.
If my roommate doesn't keep his hands off my shit, I'm gonna fuck him up
Some nights, alone, he thinks of her, and some nights, alone, she thinks of him
She was most amazed by the obvious, like January and the fact that I could not possibly keep her.
She was the prettiest, loveliest cat at the ball and she had upon her fine gilded whiskers.
She gets caught in the little world beneath her sheets
spade-struck embers spark and flare the smoke what snarls up in her hair
Because I still love her, because I know she still loves me.
She is willing to attempt to retrieve the data. Go with her.
She was so quiet that nobody heard her
I would have attempted to draw her if she had stayed that way.
little pieces of her tragically poetic attempts at being loved that she was startlingly aware of, today
And her legs went on forever, like staring up at infinity
Her hand on my heart
throw up
She has given up on shoes completely.
She crashed her car trying to avoid a butterfly
She always confused her greys with white.
Hands Up!
She nicknamed her vagina "Crusty"
Only her hands would give her away
Hands cupped into a half circle, he bent foward to help her catch a light
She ties regrets around her fingers like forget-me-knots
I haven't seen her in a month. She is still beautiful.
Since she whom I lov'd hath paid her last debt
I don't like her because she won't like me
She flies with her own wings
She bruised her knee. This is how we met.
She asked me to copy my poem into her notebook
drop the bass and come out with your hands up
The Man Felt an Iron Hand Grasp Him by the Hair, at the Nape. Not One Hand, a Hundred Hands Seized Him, Each by the Hair, and Tore Him Head to Foot, the Way You Tear Up a Sheet of Paper, Into Hundreds of Little Pieces
She calls him Sugarcane. He calls her Hurricane.
Her grief is still too young to behave itself, so she never lets it out
In a quiet grove of pines under a frosty sky, he helped her out of the sack. She wore severe white hospital pajamas and was beautiful.
All the while he was talking she was thinking what his whiskers would feel like on the back of her neck
What's she gonna look like with a chimney on her?
I am the child with her nose pressed up against the window.
They walk around her like she is in danger of breaking
Her innocence fell. She kicked at it some, frowned, and left it there because it was beautiful.
She grew a little older, while he was telling her
I don't think she even knows that I make her smile
He touched her once and she turned into a golden creature. He never touched her again.
serene. She sips her tea
she left her handwriting all over the calendar
It happened to everyone else; she swore it wouldn't to her
I've never seen a glacier up close, but I've touched your hand. It felt so cold.
She always was devious in her beauty
She is the queen of accidental magic. Her used kleenexes, taken by the wind, become soulful ghosts.
I set my sister up with her husband, and all I got was this great dress and a trip to Hawaii
She opened her eyes, looked at a world made entirely of white light
does she need to touch her own face to know?
At night, her eyes closed, she would
She Will Have Her Way: The Songs Of Tim & Neil Finn
wake up and find her still there
Ruth holding up time with her beauty
When she sleeps, is she not moving her legs aside for an unknown garrison?
A dose of mystery slipped into her cocktail while she was in the ladies' room
Her hands on my back; slipping into sleep
She Will Have Her Way
Devil up her sleeve
She was inside the music, with her eyes closed
while she sleeps, i write myself into her life
I told her I could read her mind, but she didn't believe me. I could tell.
She is the sea. Above her, he is thunder.
She disappeared as if he had only dreamed her
she lit her thumb on fire
She practices her speech
if you fear spells, look away when she decides to share her hair with the wind.
She knows no truth except her own.
A girl I know had her jaw wired shut, and she vomited.
She Called in Her Soul to Come and See
She, the Last Leviathan. She, the Station Agent. Chin on her Palm, she Watches Every Departure.
why she makes her wishes at 7:07
The portion of her face she allows me to see
I gave her my heart, she tore it apart, and who gives a fart.
She cleaned up for me at least.
She was pain and pleasure all at once, wrapped up in needles and Ramones T-shirts
you never once told her how beautiful she was nor how much you truly loved her
She keeps her lies everywhere
She asked me if I loved her and I showed her the tattoo
She smokes. It wraps around her wrists and clings to her neck.
She said her father died of cancer in the sixties
Hands up, the whole way
love and disgust
Withdrawal in disgust is not the same as apathy
Disgusted, but not surprised
Hand grenade
Cool Hand Luke
Laying On Hands
bloody hands
Manos: Hands of Nate
Don't Crush that Dwarf, Hand Me the Pliers
Things to remember before raising your hand
Man Hand
Aloha, Mister Hand!
eight hands around
lucky hand
Go by hand
What is the sound of one hand clapping?
hand jive
eight on a hand
Smearing your hand with Elmer's glue
I feel disillusionment creeping up on me like the day after a 21st birthday. A deep sigh of shallow disappointment.
Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God
Mr. Hand
PC Hands
All In Your Hands
From my cold dead hands
Misunderstood hand signals
You have far too much time on your hands
Sleight of Hand
a baseball cap, a toy car and two hands
Making farting noises with your hands
All Hands on the Bad One
If our genitalia were on our hands
All in Favor of "Gun Control" Raise Your Right Hand
Manos: the Hands of Fate
talking hand
Why Vampire Hunter D's hand ruins the entire movie
Ten inch knife through my hand - All for green onion pancakes
Take my hand, little naked buddy, while we sniff the magic number
Involuntary raising hands trick
I would love to hold your hand.
A Show of Hands
Standing Outside a Broken Phone Booth with Money in My Hand

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