Quotes About Churned

Disgust was an organ in Hunt's gut. The more he thought about it, the more it churned.

I tried to appear, and in fact be, calm and deliberate, though my insides often churned.

Everyone was oblivious to the seething hatred and anger that churned in other parts of the city — beneath the surface like an undiscovered fault line waiting to open up and swallow all above.

A true yogi may remain dutifully in the world; there, he is like butter on water and not like the easily-diluted milk of unchurned and undisciplined humanity.

Though she was ungifted, she could clearly feel the power of the magic the sword now possessed. It was power unlike anything she ever imagined. It churned the way the storm had. It held more power than the storm had. It was fury and rage and love and life all folded together over and over, blending them into the finest layers of something new, something remarkable. This was now a weapon unlike any other, more than any other.

The last of the night's tears churned down gunnels and swirled along street gutters. Muddy puddles filled potholes, reflecting

And the shadows twisted and churned with incomprehensible shapes. … Flashes of images: an invisible box filled with a broken promise that thrashed with mindless rage.

There was something about him that glistened, something warm that churned and billowed about, like a smoke cloud filled with sparklers.

Well-being of mind is like a mountain lake without ripples. When the lake has no ripples, everything in the lake can be seen. When the water is all churned up, nothing can be seen. The still lake without ripples is an image of our minds at ease, so full of unlimited friendliness for all the junk at the bottom of the lake that we don't feel the need to churn up the waters just to avoid looking at what's there.

Love, he thought. It would come out soon enough. Words and feelings were all churned up together inside him, finding each other like lost parts of an atom. He didn't try to push them apart or away. He let them float in the new fullness in his chest.

But hope was a malicious, jagged thing, all spikes and razors that churned and cut deep in his guts. Hope was a great deal like fear.

There are always waves on the water. Sometimes they are big, sometimes they are small, and sometimes they are almost imperceptible. The water's waves are churned up by the winds, which come and go and vary in direction and intensity, just as do the winds of stress and change in our lives, which stir up the waves in our minds.

In the distance, a dust devil churned like a dervish, whirling into a patch of flame trees and unhousing a fat band of vultures.