Quotes About Body

If it is made in a lab then it takes a lab to digest.

Deathstorm sees Power Ring as a fascinating experiment. Deathstorm is a scientist who's been merged with the dead body of his lab assistant. It's given him a cold demeanor and a clammy touch.

We have stigmatised sleep with the label of laziness.

There is a reason I am labeled 'The Most Expensive Body On Earth.'

I didn't know how men managed with something taking up so much room down there. And what the hell kind of design left a person's privates dangling loose in the air and changing sizes all the time?

There are a thousand ways to die," he told me quietly. "There are so few really to live. I would gladly risk the former for the latter, and it is my choice, is it not? To risk whatever I must, my heart, my body, my soul, in order to be with you. Is that not what love is? – Louis-Cesare

Dieser Körper ist der Grund all meiner nie geschehenen Taten.

Likewise, the tongue is a small part of the body, but it makes great boasts. Consider what a great forest is set on fire by a small spark. The tongue also is a fire, a world of evil among the parts of the body. It corrupts the whole body, sets the whole course of one's life on fire, and is itself set on fire by hell" (James 3:5 – 6).

Lisa's mama says all people are part of Christ's body, so some people have to be the armpits.

You have splendid breasts, lass," he purred, cupping the plump mounds. "Splendid," he repeated stupidly, and she almost laughed. Men loved breasts any shape or form, they just loved them. -Drustan to Gwen

I felt the electricity of his body behind me as he reached around me and took the card from my hand. He didn't move away, and I battled the urge to lean back into him, seeking the comfort of his strength. Would he wrap his arms around me? Make me feel safe, if only for a moment, and if only a delusion?

You're ashamed of me. Because I'm fat. That's why you don't want them to see me." She slit her eyes open just barely, lids heavy. "I'm not ashamed of you. And you're not fat." "Look at my belly," he said tearfully, clutching it with both paws and jiggling. She smiled. "I like your belly. I think it's a perfectly wonderful belly, all soft and round.

I always thought fainting showed an inherent weakness of character, but I understood it now. It was an act of self-preservation. Confronted by emotion too extreme to handle, the body shuts down to keep from running around like a chicken with its head cut off, potentially injuring itself.

She had a hard time making herself let go and they waged a short, silent, silly little battle that he won, which she reluctantly conceded was probably only fair since it was part of his body.

Sexual excitement alters the lines of her body, fuses it into new lines against mine. A woman's spine changes when she wants to fuck, a subtle, supple shifting at the base, a sharper curve at that hollow where back meets ass. Breasts tighten and lift, the slant of jaw changes as the mouth prepares and muscles draw tight. I have studied humans for a small eternity. Intent infuses their every movement. Road maps to their inner navigation, plastered all over their skin. Born to be slaves.

Lust is absurd. It strikes in the strangest places at the oddest times. She doesn't even realize she's feeling it. She's erected a barricade of propriety and lies between us. I despise the type of woman she is. I loathe her soft pink innocence. My body doesn't concur. I wonder why her?

But in a dream I might get to see the part of the swamp where her body washed up, bloated and rippling, or where she escaped to, if the dream was beautiful.

The same spine that has been inside her since babyhood is hers today, the exact same bones from the womb, a thought that always fills her with a kind of thrilling claustrophobia. So much surface wrapped around that old stem. She watches her hands smear the water droplets on her stomach. It's strange to own anything, Beverly thinks, even your flesh, that nobody outside yourself ever touches or sees.

America's great talent, I think, is to generate desires that would never have occurred, natively, to a body like mine, and to make those desires so painfully real that money becomes a fiction, an imaginary means to some concrete end.

Each body, Beverly believes, has a secret language candled inside it, something inexpressible bright that can be transmitted truly only via touch.

Necroluminescence--the light of the vanished. A hinnsight produced by the departed's body. Your failings backlit by the death of your loved ones.

He feels flattered by the attention. Most people look anywhere but his lower body. They pretend not to notice when he limps down the docks. It makes it worse, somehow, everyone pretending that he's still whole.

The body can be a marvel of resiliency, a cactus when it comes to sleep - capable of surviving on mere drops.

Necroluminescence--the light of the vanished. A hindsight produced by the departed's body. Your failings backlit by the death of your loved ones.