Quotes About Breath

When we kiss, his lips on mine are like CPR-- breathing the life back into me.

Air struggles up my throat and past my lips as Mom talks with our new landlady. Even with the air conditioner working at full blast, the air is thin, dry, and empty. I imagine this is how it feels for someone with asthma, this constant fight for breath. As if you can't ever fill your lungs with enough air. I glare at Mom. Of all the places in the world to relocate, she had to choose a desert. I'm certain she's a sadist.

To breath through the truth is not the same with knowing it.

What is honour? Have you ever thought about it? What is honouring? Honour is total attentiveness to the present moment with a tinge of greatfulness. Honour every moment in your life, that is practice. You respect your own body, that is practice, that is asana. Asana is what? Respecting your own body at every moment consciously. Honouring your breath and keeping it up for a period of time - that is pranayam.

Nothing exists but my breath. I know this feeling. Usually it comes when something unexpected and momentously awful is about to happen, which doesn't make sense now. I'm just going home.

Exhale the remnants/Of wounds that steal your freedom./No more prisons. Breathe.

Der Mensch atmet leichter, wenn er das Maul hält.

Do you mind if I sit back a little? Because your breath is bad—it really is. —DONALD TRUMP, TO LARRY KING, ON CNN'S "LARRY KING

But love truly becomes love only when, no longer an embryo developing painfully in the darkness of the body, it ventures to confess itself with lips and breath. However hard it tries to remain a chrysalis, a time comes when the intricate tissue of the cocoon tears, and out it falls, dropping from the heights to the farthest depths, falling with redoubled force into the startled heart.

Mais l'amour ne devient vraiment réel qu'à partir du moment où il cesse de planer, douloureux et sombre, à l'état embryonnaire, au plus profond des entrailles, où il ose se nommer, s'avouer par le souffle et les lèvres.

Everything on our tormented earth that is alive and breathes, that blossoms and bears fruit, lives only by virtue of and in the name of Truth and Good.

Man with his burning soul Has but an hour of breath To build a ship of Truth In which his soul may sail- Sail on the sea of death. For death takes toll Of beauty, courage, youth, Of all but Truth.

I watched the sheets breathe when she breathed, like how Dad used to say that trees inhale when people exhale, because I was too young to understand the truth about biological processes.

As there comes light from heaven and words from breath, As there is sense in truth and truth in virtue

Love, happiness, peace - these are not final destinations. They are in every moment, every breath, everything.

It's a very old word, it means 'to breathe into.' That's how it works: An angel breathes into men and shows us what to play, what to draw. How to find the truth of who we are and why we are here.

Words are the bones. Writing is the lungs. Reading is like breathing.

For your brain is alone now your passion goes, And your coloured dreams run cold And there's nothing left but a gaping skull On the spine of the wounded world. But we are well! O sailor! sailor! O we are very well! Do not tremble as you stand, O frightened sailor For death is so mean and small. It snatches away the burning breath And it snatches the useless clay But what can it do to halt the square-rigged Soul as it steers away?

Paddington took a deep breath and gave the assistant a hard stare. It was one of the extra special hard ones which his Aunt Lucy had taught him and which he kept for emergencies.

breath, pressed an ear against his chest and took the poor fellow's pulse. While he worked, he asked about the

Neither spoke, neither made a sound except for the deep exhalation of breath. First he felt her hips shudder, and soon after he desperately reached up and pulled her down into an embrace as his own body created that one moment that takes all other moments away—all fear, all sadness—and leaves just joy. Just hope. Sometimes love.

Thorne shook his head. "And meanwhile, you feel the way the boat moves? That's the sea. That's real. You smell the salt in the air? You feel the sunlight on your skin? That's all real. You see all of us together? That's real. Life is wonderful. It's a gift to be alive, to see the sun and breathe the air. And there isn't really anything else.

You see, Momo... it's like this. Sometimes, when you've a very long street ahead of you, you think how terribly long it is and feel sure you'll never get it swept... And then you hurry. You work faster and faster, and every time you look up there seems to be just as much to sweep as before, and you try even harder…, and you panic, and in the end you're out of breath and have to stop-and still the street stretches away in from of you.

Yes, and you've never been able to understand the suggestiveness of paradox and contradiction. That's your problem. You live and breathe paradox and contradiction, but you can no more see the beauty of them than the fish can see the beauty of the water