Quotes About Breath

Mi estado de ánimo pasó de la euforia a la duda en lo que se tarda en respirar tres veces.

It reminded me of the quiet that settles on the coldest days in winter when it hurts to breathe and everything is still.

El olor de mar le gustaba tanto, que deseaba respirarlo puro algún día y en grandes cantidades, a fin de embriagarse de él.

Nos miramos las manos, que teníamos cogidas. Respiramos hondo y aceptamos nuestra complicidad, no en el robo, sino en la destrucción de una obra de arte. –Al menos, ellos no lo tendrán nunca –dijo. –¿Quiénes son ellos? –pregunté. –Cualquiera excepto nosotros –respondió.

Leaves as vowels, whispers of words like a breath of net. Leaves are vowels, I sweep them up hoping to find the combinations I am looking for.

Its great thorns pierced the canvas, and its heavy fragrance rushed within, enveloping his sleep, becoming one with his breath, and penetrated the chambers of his exploding heart.

I told him that I would continue our work, our collaboration, for as long as I lived. Will you write our story? Do you want me to? You have to he said no one but you can write it. I will do it, I promised, though I knew it would be a vow difficult to keep. I love you Patti. I love you Robert. And he was wheeled away for tests and I never heard him speak again. Save for his breath, which seemed to fill his hospital room as he lay dying. (p. 287)

Every single breath you take contains the history of the galaxy.

Perhaps when we shrink down to almost nothing, we will at last find one another. Life is, after all, very difficult. Most of us die here simply because we forget to breathe.

That was sixty-five springs ago, and I can still see him sitting at his desk, scribbling away at his youthful memoirs as the light poured through the window, catching the dust particles that danced around him. If I concentrate hard enough, I can still hear the breath going in and out of his lungs, I can still hear the point of his pen scratching across the paper.

La petite mort' and 'la grande mort' within ten seconds of each other—coming and going in the space of three short breaths.

And now I see with eye serene The very pulse of the machine; A being breathing thoughtful breath; a traveler betwixt life and death.

Schneid die Gebetshand aud der Luft mit der Augen- schere kapp ihre Finger mit deinem Kuß: Gefaltetes geht jetzt atemberaubend vor sich. // Cut the payer-hand from the air with the eye- shears, lop its fingers off with your kiss: Now a folding takes place that takes your breath away -Last Poems, page 51

The gospel narrative is all about the larceny and restoration of true worship, the thing for which we were given breath, the worship of God.

Oh the moonlight's fair tonight along the Wabash.From the fields there comes the breath of new-mown hay;Through the sycamores the candle lights are gleaming,On the banks of the Wabash, far away.

I tried to make everything breathe in this painting: faith, quiet suffering, religious and primitive style, and great nature with its scream.

Let them see your joie de vivre. Let your beauty radiate outward like the rays of the sun, warming you with its breath, a lover's kiss. The sun gives us hope, renewal . . ." "Cancer," I added helpfully.

I don't want to talk about those things. I see the worst in people. I don't need to look past seeing them to get all I need. I've built my hatreds up over the years, little by little, Henry... to have you here gives me a second breath. I can't keep doing this on my own with these... people. [laughs]

Breath, dreams, silence, invincible calm, you triumph.

Breath, dreams, silence, invincible calm...you will triumph." Paul Valery via Miriam Toews

When you no longer worry about the future, and no longer have regrets about the past, you exist purely in the moment. If you concentrate on that moment you instinctively know, that as long as you have life you have hope. Enjoy the moment. Breathe easily. Relax.

took a deep breath, tasting dust and eucalyptus, and moved past the smeary lights of the veranda. In the small park across the road, smooth clay had been spread like a dusting of confectioners' sugar,

She had been laced into a thing that she could only imagine was for magical purposes, meant to confine her heart and her breath in a sort of cage to hold her forever like a shut fist that would never open.

I can't brethe." She was embracing him the way he used to embrace her in Lazarevo. And for the same reason. "Open your mouth," she whispered, leaning onto his face. "I'll breath for you.