Quotes About Breathing

Doubt always hovers nearby, but I take photographs the way a musician hums. Looking is like breathing. So when luck turns my way and offers me a good picture, joy is surely nigh.

Not that money will solve anything, since you're alone, broke, unsettled, and unreliable. But we're all unreliable and broken somewhere inside and sometimes it seems desperately attractive to be unrooted and breathing nothing but your own solitude

it seems desperately attractive to be unrooted and breathing nothing but your own solitude

the impossibility of being human all too human this breathing in and out out and in these punks these cowards these champions these mad dogs of glory moving this little bit of light toward us impossibly.

concentrate on my deep breathing and the whole mindfulness shtick and on trying not to casually squeeze the contents of a taxiing aluminum tube of intercontinental goodness into my imaginary mouth—it's a Boeing 777 or Airbus A330 and it's nearly two miles away, a distantly rational part of me realizes—

When you take something that's inert, and through motion, give it life, make it appear to be alive, living, breathing thinking and having emotions, that's animation. But when you take something that's live-action, and move a part of it, that's a special effect.

He wanted to say to her that we are all savage, foolish, violent, and mistaken; that, full of our fear and confusion, we walk in ignorance upon the living and beautiful earth, breathing young, vital air and bathing in the light of morning, seeing

jedoch spürt man auf ziemlich perverse Art, dass man dem Leben an sich ausgeliefert ist, weil es einen zwingt, zu atmen und zu atmen und zu atmen in einer endlosen Kapitulation vor der biologischen Routine, und dass das menschliche Streben nach Kontrolle ebenso viel mit der Machtergreifung über den eigenen Körper zu tun hat wie mit der Ausübung von Macht über andere.

Quiet! Fool!! So what if he's hurt? This is a battle. Inequality is to be expected…a monster born of inequality and intolerance. 'I can't stand that guy.' 'I think I can beat him.' 'I'll never forgive him.' We make enemies for all kinds of reasons. And the moment we do…even breathing becomes part of the struggle.

I'm not…dead yet. Breathing is so agonizing. To have to endure such agony just to live…living is so cumbersome. I was taught that you either go to heaven or hell when you die. I wonder if it's easy to breathe in heaven. A place where my body or my head won't hurt. I hope it is. Is hell an even more agonizing place than this? If it is, I'm scared. I don't want to go. I don't. I'm scared. I'm scared of going to hell.

LOUISIANA IN SEPTEMBER was like an obscene phone call from nature. The air—moist, sultry, secretive, and far from fresh—felt as if it were being exhaled into one's face. Sometimes it even sounded like heavy breathing.

Pan is right," he thought. "Death can ruin a man's life even though he go on breathing.

The things that help you sleep all the way through it. Back-breaking labor might do it; or liquor. Surely a body -- friendly if not familiar -- lying next to you. Someone whose touch is a reassurance, not an affront or a nuisance. Whose heavy breathing neither enrages nor disgusts, but amuses you like that of a cherished pet.

like a sore tooth that is not content to throb in isolation, but must diffuse its own pain to other parts of the body- making breathing difficult, vision difficult, nerves unsettled

It withheld the refreshment in a sleep slept on it. It imposed a furtiveness on the loving done on it. Like a sore tooth that is not content to throb in isolation, but must diffuse its own pain to other parts of the body—making breathing difficult, vision limited, nerves unsettled, so a hated piece of furniture produces a fretful malaise that asserts itself throughout the house and limits the delight of things not related to it.           The

I was in the studio so much, it was about the search for air in a metaphoric sense, and the breathing has more to do with travel for me, about the search musically for open air.

S]omeone else is breathing in here besides me, and I don't think Tim the cowman dabs . . . lily of the valley, is it . . . behind his ears. Although he should.

To plant the seed of mindfulness firmly in your life, set the intention to practice mindful breathing daily.

It's the arrangement of events which makes the stories. It's throwing away, compressing, underlining. Hindsight can give structure to anything, but you have to be able to see it. Breathing, waking and sleeping: our lives are steamed and shaped into stories. Knowing that is what keeps me from going insane, and though I don't like to admit it, sometimes it's the only thing.

He's far from a fool, nowhere near. I'm quite near. I can feel the fool that's so far away from him breathing down my neck.

He's far from a fool, nowhere near. I'm quite near. I can feel the fool that's so far away from him breathing down my neck.

My slumbers--if I slumber--are not sleep, But a continuance of enduring thought, Which then I can resist not: in my heart There is a vigil, and these eyes but close To look within; and yet I live, and bear The aspect and the form of breathing men.

Why does a bear shit in the woods? he demanded. Because it is his nature. Lying comes as easily as breathing to a man like Littlefinger. You ought to know that, you of all people.

Jam to some tunes. Anything that helps you relax and especially breathe more deeply assists your lymph to circulate. Listening to music works; singing or playing an instrument has an even more powerful effect. Orchestra conductors live longer; they move their lymph through the chest via their arm movements. Go ahead and dance, air-conduct, and enjoy your favorite music. I played music all the time in