Quotes About Itch

The Deluge wasn't a wave, was it? It was blind men with axes; it was the great on their knees begging not to die at the hands of idiots; it was the itch of the irrational grown to an epidemic.

I hate mosquitoes. I mean, I know I'm delicious but dang!

There is nothing mysterious about it at all. It is only magic and sorcery--kishuf--that frighten men; life itches and burns like a hairshirt, but the rays from the sun of the spiritual world are mild and warming.

Coffined thoughts around me, in mummycases, embalmed in spice of words. Thoth, god of libraries, a birdgod, moonycrowned. And I heard the voice of that Egyptian highpriest. In painted chambers loaded with tilebooks. They are still. Once quick in the brains of men. Still: but an itch of death is in them, to tell me in my ear a maudlin tale, urge me to wreak their will.

Some psychic bombardment of the will to live had begun, a new particle of love's mysterious atom had been discovered — the itch to jump.

My nose itched. I tried to ignore it, but it got worse and worse, until it was all I could think of, the flaming lance of itch that strobed at the tip of my nostril. Furiously, I wrinkled my face, rattled at my restraints. The doc absentmindedly noticed my gyrations and delicately scratched my nose with a gloved finger. The relief was fantastic. I just hoped my nuts didn't start itching anytime soon.

Imagine trying to hold the tail of a comet as it blazes across the heavens. It's burning your hands, eating you up, but there's no malice in it; a comet can't possibly know or care about you. You will sacrifice all you are or ever will be for that comet because it suffuses every inch of your skin with a sweet itch you cannot catch, and through its grace you discover velocities you never dreamt possible.

I never write a book unless I can't help it. Something has to bother me, like a mosquito, until I have to do something to relieve the itch.

The stimulation I get from my phone does not feel like the opposite of boredom to me. It actually feels like a different flavor of boredom... a twitchier flavor. And sometimes, it's almost more irritation than stimulation. It's an itch.

One minute, I really am in awe of filmmakers, and I want to be working in film, and then the next minute, I get the itch to get back on stage.

I had a nose tickle.

People who are dependent are merely using alcohol as a crutch to get through the day. Yet doctors and scientists are still treating "alcoholism" as if it is the problem, when it has nothing to do with the problem. They might as well be studying "scratchism" for people who have a chronic itch.

such a social-media environment; it is merely the most recent and most efficient way that humans have found to scratch a prehistoric itch. The compelling nature of social media, then, can be traced back in part to the evolution of the social brain, as

Humor results when society says you can't scratch certain things in public, but they itch in public.

There is a deep-seated tendency, it's almost a compulsion, to distract ourselves, even when we're not consciously feeling uncomfortable. Everybody feels a little bit of an itch all the time. There's a background hum of edginess, boredom, restlessness. As I've said, during my time in retreat where there were almost no distractions, even there I experienced this deep uneasiness. The

The message here is that the only way to ease our pain is to experience it fully. Learn to stay. Learn to stay with uneasiness, learn to stay with the tightening, learn to stay with the itch and urge of shenpa, so that the habitual chain reaction doesn't continue to rule our lives, and the patterns that we consider unhelpful don't keep getting stronger as the days and months and years go by.

When you lie a rush of adrenaline to the capillaries in the nose causes it to itch. So people who are lying tend to involuntarily scratch it.

When you lie a rush of adrenaline to the capillaries in the nose causes it to itch. So people who are lying tend to involuntarily scratch it. - John Puller

I must to the barber's, mounsieur; for methinks I am     marvellous hairy about the face; and I am such a tender ass, if     my hair do but tickle me I must scratch.

got the itch to write, back in the early

You know what they say bout when your palm itch, Im gonna get money money Im gon get.

After having played serious drama for so long, I needed to scratch the itch of versatility.

Peace and harmony do not require perfection. Thank goodness for that—because life so often seems to be an itch here, a glitch there, a mess waiting to happen. Harmony is flexible. It bends with imperfection. So should you.

Revision, once well done, becomes a sort of automatic itch which you scratch in the next work without thinking about it.