Quotes About Bodies

The cry that breaks the silence is the sound of bodies becoming fully aware of what the predatory system has cost and being fully aware as well that it can be otherwise.

the technology of personality transfer is imperfect--sometimes bits get left behind: memories, abilities, traits, that might be useful. A full succession of bodies can mean successive senility.

Freedom is a state of mind, I said wondering where I'd heard it before, not a state of being. We are all slaves to gravity and morality and the vicissitudes of nature. Our genes govern us much more than we'd like to think. Our bodies can not know absolute freedom but our minds can, can at least try.

I have not been three days at Rome. How charming are the Italian women! Nature seems here to have concentrated all her beauties. In other countries she has bestow'd only one feature; but in Rome the countenance is perfect. There she has given souls without bodies; here they both exist in the same being.

if someone will take such good care of your physical bodies in the Temporal." "Don't you worry about that

The difference is that they hunger for our souls while we think in terms of lashing out at their bodies.

The universal pervasion of ugliness, hideous landscapes, vile noises, foul language...everything. Unnatural, broken, blasted; the distortion of the dead, whose unburiable bodies sit outside the dug outs all day, all night, the most execrable sights on earth. In poetry we call them the most glorious.

He was no longer in Russia, he thought. He was in a tsarist dreamland, imported from the West and built by terrorized peasants. Florence called to him from the facades of the Baroque palaces, and, crossing the Moyka River, he dreamed of Venice. He wondered how many bodies lay beneath the ice. Thousands, he thought. Tens of thousands. No other city in the world concealed the horrors of its past more beautifully than St. Petersburg.

I played a lot of sports and it's the plays in basketball that weren't worked out that are the ones that are just fantastic that you remember. We don't know the power that's within our own bodies.

I throw out love like an anchor and wait where the long house lights of strangers tickle the river's back … Isn't it right to drag the rivers for the bodies not even the nets could catch? I won't lie, I want you to lie with me on the tumbling surface of love. from "Sailing the Back River

Ninety-six percent of the mass of all the mammals on Earth is made up of our bodies and those of the animals that we raise to eat.

If our bodies were different, though, our metaphors would be different, as Olaf Stapledon showed in Star Maker. Crabs walk sideways, for instance. If crabs could talk, they would undoubtedly describe progress in difficult negotiations as sidling toward agreement and express the hope for a better future by saying their best days are still beside them. Our bodies prime our metaphors, and our metaphors prime how we think and act.

Perhaps nowhere in life do the experiences of childhood seem more removed from the issues of adult health than in a hospital coronary care unit. Yet, one can see and hear there the linkages patients themselves make as they reveal bodies and hearts that are living repositories of pained memories from the distant past—pained memories etched in their hearts and never forgotten.

We are here in a physical world, with physical bodies, because that is exactly where God purposed us to be and where we shall be in the future.

Jesus got up one day a little later than usual. He had been dreaming so deep there was nothing left in his head. What was it? A nightmare, dead bodies walking all around him, eyes rolled back, skin falling off. But he wasn't afraid of that. It was a beautiful day. How 'bout some coffee? Don't mind if I do. Take a little ride on my donkey, I love that donkey. Hell, I love everybody.

I am here,' said the voice slowly. 'My body wanted to come but it's a bit busy at the moment. Things to do, people to see.' After what seemed like a sort of ethereal sigh it added, 'You know how it is with bodies.

them, behind the trees, the strange Italian restaurant that had brought these, their real bodies, to this, the real, present world of Krikkit. The strong grass under their feet was real, the rich soil real, too. The heady fragrances from the tree, too, were real. The night was real night. Krikkit. Possibly the most dangerous place in the Galaxy for anyone who isn't Krikkiter to stand.

It was impossible to explain why, but their smooth and sleek white bodies seemed to be the utter embodiment of clean, clinical evil.

the bland politician's smile of someone who knows that the bodies in the car trunk are, indeed, dead.

Inside the "cells" there were no normal-looking organelles, no nuclei, endoplasmic reticulum, mitochondria, or Golgi bodies.

Bah! The infirmities of age. What a bore. We gain honors, age, and wealth, and then just when we're ready to enjoy them, Father Time comes swooping down and screws up our bodies. Pulvis et umbra sumus and all that.

Probably there is nothing in human nature more resonant with charges than the flow of energy between two biologically alike bodies, one of which has lain in amniotic bliss inside the other, one of which has labored to give birth to the other. The materials are here for the deepest mutuality and the most painful estrangement.

One may have a crime without a murderer, but for two crimes it is essential to have two bodies." -- Hercule Poirot

The truest expression of a people is in its dance and in its music. Bodies never lie.