I checked out all types of tobacco trying to find one that would be easiest to live with, I ended up using pipe tobacco. It burned slower, and it wasn't as harsh on my throat... It also smelled better.
It was a whisper in the soul, a lump in the throat, and an echo in the deep and hidden places of the heart. It was the hope that we are loved, truly loved, and that we are known. It was what I wanted more than anything.
I have no idea where the concept came from that America is an explicitly atheist country. I can't find it in the Constitution, and I don't like it being shoved down my throat.
Guys always think tears are a sign of weakness. They’re a sign of FRUSTRATION. She’s only crying so she won’t cut your throat in your sleep. So make nice and be grateful.
It's like having a conversation. Doing beatbox for me is as natural as talking is for someone else. Sending sound through a certain part of my throat, so that I am accurate every time. It's not like whatever happens happens, this is a focused sound.
Brenda Margaret Blaney: My God, the tie! [screams] Brenda Margaret Blaney: [as Bob wraps the tie around her throat] Dear Jesus, help me. Help me!
Rory Breaker: What do you want, a medal? I'll shoot you in the fucking throat if I don't get my ganja back.
Stanley Goodspeed: I'm unarmed sir. I am unarmed, sir. Womack: Where's your issue? Stanley Goodspeed: I left in my... [clears throat] Stanley Goodspeed: sock drawer.
[American representative stands up and clears his throat] [pause] American Representative: Fuck Canada! Canadian Representative: Hey fuck you buddy!
I started running 3 miles every morning after throat surgery to remove a cyst last year. The gym used to be my adversary. But that has all changed. Now, I look forward to it every morning.
Violence does not necessarily take people by the throat and strangle them. Usually it demands no more than an ultimate allegiance from its subjects. They are required merely to become accomplices in its lies.
You choke my throat With words of wonder You make it hard to breathe Your love's so cold Just like an arrow Pierced through my skin I bleed
President Kennedy was willing to go to war. He was not a coward. The man had been in war and so had Ken O'Donnell. He was ready to protect this nation, but he was not ready for a military solution just because it was being rammed down his throat.
I won’t tolerate her hurting you, my son. I’ll kill the bitch first.” “Weren’t you the one who tried to cut father’s throat before he Claimed you?” "He deserved it,
It’s one thing to go into a fight knowing you’ll probably lose. Quite another to be told that to win, you must offer up your throat to be slit.
He was stabbed by memory, that tyrant which impinges upon our dreams and leaps at out throat as soon as we awaken.
I loved him even now, as he took a knife to my throat, as I drowned in blood, as I whispered "Cousin, you were wrong. We were born to live.
Where is it?" I asked, willing him to tell me. He laughed suddenly, and I could hear the full-throated, grating sound of the white bear's laughter in it. "East of the sun and west of the moon," he said.
Bourbon, Kentucky bourbon especially, is like Dante’s Inferno in a glass, fire walks down your throat, lungs, and heart and everything in between with an unpleasant after-taste. We got along just fine.
Inside plum trees stood in a row, flowers lifted their pale throats to the moon and stars, a magnolia held its tight-closed buds like white candles in its green hands.
I feel a strange sensation brewing inside of me. It tickles my throat and forces my lips into a grin. Before I can stifle it, I giggle. And then I laugh.
