My feelings for Drew couldn't just disappear. They were ingrained within every fiber of my being, and I needed them just the same as I needed air to breathe.
Finally, the water level topped off, leaving him with no more air to breathe. He drew his last breath and slipped down deep into the darkness that claimed his soul.
Why is it so sexy when hot guys stare each other down like that? Why do I feel like licking the air? Am I ovulating?
He stood there a moment, listened to the creek, and let the mountain air blow against his face. Even with all this heartache, it was beautiful here.
Every intoxicating delight of early spring was in the air. The breeze that fanned her cheek was laden with subtle perfume and the crisp, fresh odor of unfolding leaves.
The general air of insecurity and affection made it too easy for him to imagine these once-a-year fabulous creatures as the cubicle dwellers most of them were in everyday life.
The night of my accident, when I opened my eyes and you were there? Seeing you again, Rebecca...It was like someone let the air back into the room.
Yang tak berdarah mati. Yang kekurangan darah lemah. Hanya yang berlumuran darah saja perkasa. Ada adinda dengar? Perkasa! Dan hanya si lemah berkubang dalam air matanya sendiri. (Tumenggung Mandraka)
Presidents and other politicians manage the appearance of things, largely by manipulating the air and hope.
Dave was a confirmed serotonin junkie. Any day of the year, he chose a good book, a hot cupper, and air-conditioning over jeopardy to life and limb.
Rhage exhaled slowly, air easing out of his nose. As he sank into his skin, he reveled in the perfection of peace. The heavenly silence. The great roaring absence.
Very efficient," a new voice said approvingly. He decided to take it as a sign of approval, anyway. The speaker was a European-looking youth with a slightly haughty air.
She read books as one would breathe air, to fill up and live. She read books as one would breathe ether, to sink in and die.
I think there are some who live on a knife-edge in the soul, and at times are driven to hurl themselves into the air, at the mercy of heaven or he'll which way to fall.
He's like a storybook spirit, a little djinn or something, except instead of air or water his element is imagination.
In the blink of an eye, the fairytales told to children were as real as death and taxes. Vampires, shifters, trolls, demons and creatures of myth, were as real as the air we breathe.
The night had darkened to the murky sort where the air hung like descending clouds and the overhead branches made the liquid darkness even more impenetrable.
I was drinking in the surroundings: air so crisp you could snap it with your fingers and greens in every lush shade imaginable offset by autumnal flashes of red and yellow.
Finally, mercifully, the spasms subsided, as the old man’s head lolled back, his mouth hanging open, taking in deep, ragged breaths of stale, recirculated air.
Look around you...Feel the wind, smell the air. Listen to the birds and watch the sky. Tell me what's happening in the wide world.
The autumn twilight turned into deep and early night as they walked. Tristran could smell the distant winter on the air--a mixture of night-mist and crisp darkness and the tang of fallen leaves.
