Quotes About Breath

Breathing is the master key of life.

remember trying to breathe. I couldn't think. I remember

It is as true as breath. It is as important as the words of children.

Nineteen secrets, nineteen stones, nineteen branches, nineteen bones, untold wonders in a day breathing deep under stone and clay.

A thousand years ago or more They opened up the devil's door And a cwene of dark and death Crawled out, and creeping stole our breath And we've been hiding ever-more.

To be a Christian without prayer is no more possible than to be alive without breathing. — Martin Luther King Jr.

It is the owl feathers that are the sign of death, the messengers from the other world. The eagle feather is a sign of life, attached to all the activities of the living: making rain, planting and harvesting crops, success in fishing, protecting homes, and curing illness. The feather is considered the breath of life, processing the power and spirit of the bird of which it was once a living part.

I took a deep breath in an attempt not to be cruel, but some situations are deserving of it and some people, too.

Her lips tarried at mine. Baiting each other with the warmth of our breath, barely grazing, detouring, then connecting.

You are the breath of God. You are the way God is aware of God in the immediacy of your life. You are the way God feeds the hungry, clothes the naked, frees the wrongly imprisoned. You are the way God brings justice, mercy, and humility to life. But because you want to be more, you end up being less: the way God brings horror, hate, and holocaust to every corner of the globe.

Jack picked a piece of mint from his glass and chewed on it for a second. "I'm curious," he said, "is telling someone to relax ever helpful? It's like saying 'breathe' to someone who is hyperventilating or 'swallow' to a person who's choking. It's a completely useless admonition.

If this turns to friendship, it only means That one of us will suffer. That when we meet after the worst of endings, There will only be this skein of words between us— Most of them for boredom, fewer for loneliness— Rising out of our mutual space of breath, leaving Behind a bluer sky each moment of departure. And one of us will cling on to its blue, Hung on partings like a muted cloud, while The other rides on a wing of word away from here.

The human voice: mysterious, spontaneous, primal. For me, the human voice is the vessel on which all emotions travel - except perhaps jealousy. And the breath, the breath is the captain of that vessel.

When a child is born, it is immersed in an atmosphere charged with the stellar vibrations peculiar to that moment, which are stamped upon each atom of the sensitive organism by the air inhaled with the first breath.

Meeting her was like taking a deep breath for the first time in years

Where did the dress come from?" he asked, his breath a puff of white mist in the air. "Lady Raiford." "Of course," he said sardonically. "It looks like something she would wear." He glanced into the open neck of the cloak, where the shadow of her cleavage was visible. His thumb moved high on her breast, lingering at the edge where velvet ended and soft skin began. "Except you fill it out differently.

If you're implying that I'm spoiled, I assure you that I am not." "You should be." His warm gaze slid over her pink-tinted face and slender upper body, then sought hers again. There was a note in his voice that gently robbed her of breath. "You could do with a bit of spoiling.

I want to fill every part of you, breathe the air from your lungs and leave my handprints on your soul. I want to give you more pleasure than you can bear.

Wind blew down the canyon like breath through a straw, pushing the scow forward and pleating the river ahead of them.

When she breathed in the sage and dust and tang of orange peel, it smelled to her like deliverance.

You do more than help. You're the reason I take my next breath.

Our laughter dissolves into a crackling current that steals my breath away. Our eyes lock, and heat pools low in my belly.

My breath caught in wonder and surprise and I remembered that during the darkest of hours, God is.

The Guardian's eyes widened with amazement, and he tightened his grip on me. He had my arms, so the action I was forced to take was entirely his fault. It was as direct as my previous action, but not nearly as polite. In the next instant, the Guardian was on his knees trying to remember how to breath.