Quotes About Body

Sometimes I get mail for people who lived in my home before I did, and sometimes my own body seems like a home through which successive people have passed like tenants, leaving behind memories, habits, scars, skills, and other souvenirs.

Writing is the most disembodied art, and reading and writing are largely private and solitary experiences, so music and dance have always enchanted me as arts in which the body of the performer communicates directly to the audience, welding a kind of communion writers rarely experience.

thinking is generally thought of as doing nothing in a production-oriented culture, and doing nothing is hard to do. It's best done by disguising it as doing something, and the something closest to doing nothing is walking. Walking itself is the intentional act closest to the unwilled rhythms of the body, to breathing and the beating of the heart. It strikes a delicate balance between working and idling, being and doing.

Some music has words, and rock had words that at times aspired to poetry, but the words were always sounds first, spoken to the body before the mind.

The sea is a body in a thousand ways that don't add up, because adding is too stable a transaction for that flux, but the waves come in in a roar and then ebb, almost silent but for the fain suck of sand and snap of bubbles, over and over, a heartbeat rhythm, the sea always this body turned inside out and opened to the sky, the body always a sea folded in on itself, a nautical chart folded into a paper cup.

My body was a lonely house. I was not always home; I was often elsewhere. I imagined when I was young some science-fiction version of humans becoming brains in jars as a good thing, that our bodies were some sad thing we were mired in rather than instruments of joy, connection, and vitality, the non-negotiable terms of our existence.

The sea is a body in a thousand ways that don't add up, because adding is too stable a transaction for that flux, but the waves come in in a roar and then ebb, almost silent but for the faint suck of sand and snap of bubbles, over and over, a heartbeat rhythm, the sea always this body turned inside out and opened to the sky, the body always a sea folded in on itself, a nautical chart folded into a paper cup.

a certain kind of wanderlust can only be assuaged by the acts of the body itself in motion, not the motion of the car, boat, or plane.

If the body is the register of the real, then reading with one's feet is real in a way reading with one's eyes alone is not.

There was a joy, she said, to finding that her body was adequate to get her where she was going, and it was a gift to develop a more tangible, concrete relationship to her neighbourhood and its residents.

Jeszcze jedno w kwestii Kasandry: niewiara, z jakÄ… spotykaÅ'y siÄ™ jej proroctwa, byÅ'a skutkiem klÄ…twy, którÄ… rzuciÅ' na niÄ… Apollo za to, ?e nie chciaÅ'a uprawia? z nim seksu. W tej historii od poczÄ…tku chodzi o to, ?e tracisz wiarygodno??, kiedy domagasz siÄ™ prawa do wÅ'asnego ciaÅ'a.

Or perhaps walking should be called movement, not travel, for one can walk in circles or travel around the world immobilized in a seat, and a certain kind of wanderlust can only be assuaged by the acts of the body itself in motion, not the motion of the car, boat, or plane. It is the movement as well as the sights going by that seems to make things happen in the mind, and this is what makes walking ambiguous and endlessly fertile: it is both means and end, travel and destination.

The body is nothing more than a parcel in transit, a chess piece dropped on another square, it does not move but is moved.

His tall, lanky body had the wrinkles of sleep, and he smelled like cotton and dreams.

I wish I knew then what I know now - and still had those thighs!

The curve of my spine was so elegant. I felt deeply moved that, in all the years of having these shoulders, this spine, this back, I had never noticed how it was a line of poetry—an overture to the magnificence of the human body. I realized in that moment that women have no clue about our own beauty; no clue about the connection between pleasure and time; no clue about this deep, delicious, endlessly replenishing source of divinity within each of us.

My mountain as a symbol for Communist ideals? Nonsense. Yet that seems to be what it is all coming to. I do not consider my death tragic. Tragedy is the death of the soul, not the body. The Chinese had their ladder. I had my spirit.

How odd it is, that the dead weigh more than the living. You would think it would be the opposite, but it isn't. I think it is because souls give bodies lightness and air. When the soul leaves, the body has nothing left and is desperate to return to the earth. That's why it's so heavy.

Your whole body, from wingtip to wingtip, Jonathan would say, other times, is nothing more than your thought itself, in a form you can see. Break the chains of your thought, and you break the chains of your body, too.

If our body is a perfect expression of our thought about body, and if our thought about body is that it's condition has everything to do with inner image and nothing to do with time, then we don't have to be impatient for being too young or frightened of being too old.

To begin with, you've got to understand that a seagull is an unlimited idea of freedom, an image of the Great Gull, and your whole body, from wingtip to wingtip, is nothing more than your thought itself.

Your whole body, from wingtip to wingtip," Jonathan would say, other times, "is nothing more than your thought itself, in a form you can see. Break the chains of your thought, and you break the chains of your body, too….

el secreto es dejar de verse a sí mismo como prisionero de un cuerpo limitado, rompe las cadenas de tu pensamiento y romperás también las de tu cuerpo

Break the chains of your thought, and you break the chains of your body, too. . . .