The tattoo artist inflicts pain and I take it. With each breath I count to one again. Each inhale, each exhale, time passes in the smallest of pieces, and pieces still smaller than those. This is how you count a life. This is how you go through it. E...
She dared to cry? On this day of all days? I was the one who would be married at sunset, and I hadn't let myself cry in five years. There was ice in my lungs and in my heart. I was floating. I was swept away, and out of the cold I spoke to her in a v...
The calling that has been thrust upon you is likewise as demanding and daunting. I understand how you feel, believe me. But we need you, Eena. I would say I’m sorry, but…….honestly I’d have no other woman take your place. You are exactly what...
I go out on the porch and gaze up at the stars twinkling above, the random scattering of millions of stars. Even in a planetarium you wouldn't find as many. Some of them really look big and distinct, like if you reached your hand out intently you cou...
Rhodey: [talking over phone] What the hell is that noise? Tony Stark: I'm driving with the top down. Rhodey: Well, I need your help right now. Tony Stark: Funny how that works, huh? Rhodey: Yeah. Speaking of funny, we got a weapons depot that was jus...
She took a deep breath, "Last chance. Are you in need of rescuing?" His expression turned very strange, almost as if she'd struck him, "yes," he said finally. -Tana and Gavriel-page 33- chapter 5
Quoting Father Seraphim: Our life hangs only by a breath. It is the thread that links you to the Father, the Source, which brought you into being. Be conscious of this thread, and go where you will. (27)
He was twenty. I remembered twenty. I'd known everything at twenty. It took me another year to realize I knew nothing. I was still hoping to learn something before I hit thirty, but I wasn't holding my breath.
A coward,' he declared with dignity, when he'd stopped coughing and had got his breath back, 'dies a hundred times. A brave man dies but once. But Dame Fortune favours the brave and holds the coward in contempt.' — Dandelion
The deeper and slower your breathing becomes, the more space you will create inside you. Eventually, it will become so big that all your thoughts and emotions look trivial in the vastness of your inner space.
He sucked in a breath, his head snapping back from hers. Groaning as he filled her, she arched her back against him, her nipples stroking his chest with the movement. They weren't going to make it to the living room. "Wall or floor?" he managed.
Colton Brooks kissed in an all-consuming way that stole her breath, demanded her surrender, and blocked everything else until the only thing she saw or heard or felt or knew was his lips, his tongue, his hands, his body. Him.
Our eyes met and locked as the song came to a halt, followed by a screaming conclusion from the crowd, girls around us pressing me into the stage, forcing all the air out of my lungs, but I’d forgotten about doing anything so basic as breathing.
In public, you’re Joss Butler. Cool, self-possessed. In bed, you’re Jocelyn Butler—you’re hot, babe. Uncontrolled. Needy. Sweet,” he breathed. “I like that I know that. I don’t like the fact that other men do too.
I took a breath, seeing from across the room the rain on his eyelashes. A sudden need to brush them free filled me. I could almost feel the dampness of the rain on my fingers, how soft it would feel.
Now... Just run.' [said the Doctor.] One of the things you learn very quickly around the Doctor is never to question him when he says that word. You just run. It's almost like breathing.
In the eighties, when she chiefly flourished, husbands were taken seriously, as the only real obstacles to sin. Beds too, if they had to be mentioned, were approached with caution; and a decent reserve prevented them and husbands ever being spoken of...
You know I love you right?” “I know,” he breathed, his arm tightening automatically around my waist. “You know how much I wish it was enough.
The direction of a big act will warp history, but probably all acts will do the same thing in their degree, down to a stone stepped over in a path or a breath caught at the sight of a pretty girl or a finger nail nicked in the garden soil.
I feel my griefs too, and there scarce is ground Upon my flesh t'inflict another wound. Yet dare I not complain, or wish for death With holy Paul; lest it be thought the breath Of discontent; or that these prayers be For weariness of life, not love o...
Ah, yes, choice. I chose to let my ghosts stay in past. Past is history you know. Living is now. I sat. I breathed. I let past go. I let future go. I am. That is all.
