Quotes About Tension

Lucifer. You're my brother, and I love you. But sometimes, You're just a great big bag of dicks.

We walk to the parking lot, and he says, "Did something happen back there? Did I say something wrong? I thought it was going very well until suddenly it wasn't." I say, "I just don't like you," and I get in my car.

Kate was right behind him. When he turned around, she was taken off guard by the power of his nearness. His masculine aura of strength engulfed her; she was suddenly all too aware of the bed nearby. Without warning, the air between them was charged with overwhelming tension. Her heart slammed in her chest. His hard face was shadowed by the candles' glow as he gazed almost wistfully into her eyes. In spite of all his assurances, his hunger for her was palpable in the room, confusing her.

All the suffering and frustration of the past two weeks came bursting out in an unpremeditated explosion.

Bravely, Kate went closer, joining him beside the table. "Here." She set the dragon book on it while Rohan dragged his fingers through his hair, shoving his long, sable locks back from his face. Tendrils of his hair still clung to his hot, damp skin. The heat radiating from his big, hard body and the musky male scent of him had a maddening effect on her senses, which she strove to ignore.

The wild, dark lords of Moonlight Square definitely made up their own dangerous breed. They fit right in with the haunted atmosphere that still lingered in this place, as though they were drawn to it. Each an island of gloom and brooding isolation unto himself, they drifted through Society like great, ominous thunderheads, crackling with the tension of pent-up lightning and liable to rage into a storm at any moment.

He put his hand on my waist, and my heart began to pound, a rougher rhythm than the music. I held my skirt. Our free hands met. His felt warm and comforting and unsettling and bewildering--all at once.

Kallista nodded. "Come, Torchay. Seems we should pack." They sailed upriver with the dawn. "What's wrong with you?" Someone had hold of Stone's hair, shaking his head as if it were a sackful of kittens to be drowned.

There was no relaxing when you lived a secret.

My heart was in my mouth.

Sometimes--and I know it doesn't last for anything more than a second--sometimes there can be perfect understanding between two people who can't stand each other. He smiled, and I smiled, and we put the Timex watches on, and we watched the seconds flit by.

No one talked because we all wanted to scream.

There's a kind of quiet angry that can lie down over a house. Maybe there are some houses, like the Daughertys', that have never know it - that house probably hasn't ever had a quiet day. But in The Dump, Angry Quiet was an old friend, and he moved in again. No one talked because we all wanted to scream.

Sometimes I heed the Spirit's desire, and sometimes I don't. Spiritual maturity is not getting to the point where you no longer experience this tension. Rather, maturity is becoming more sensitive to it and choosing more consistently to trust the leadership and empowering of God's Spirit—by stepping out in the midst of fear, aversion, and inadequacy to serve.

In an attempt to make it all work, I began to bear down even harder. You might say that I started to clench my way to success. I really did. I thought that this might be the way you went through life—with your jaw clenched, your fist clenched, your stomach clenched, and your butt clenched.

The same conclusion could be made about marriage. Every marriage has sorrows. Every marriage has trials. There isn't a shared bedroom in this country where tension doesn't occasionally or perhaps frequently lift its snarling head. Many a pillow has been a solemn receptacle for soul-felt tears, cried late at night or even all throughout the day. We don't get to choose which sorrows or trials we are called to bear, only that we must endure them.

And I know it doesn't last for anything more than a second-----sometimes there is perfect understanding between two people who can't stand one another.

There is no difference between acute schizophrenia and a world at war.

The human being taken in his profound reality as well as in his great tension of becoming is a divided being, a being which divides again, having permitted himself the illusion of unity for barely an instant. He divides and then reunites.

Anxiety, unlike real fear, is always caused by uncertainty.

That looked like an intense little conversation," she said. "Who called?" "President of the United States," he answered, starting the engine. "Okay, fine," Cori sighed. "Don't tell me.

Someone asked them to be quiet, so it's just a matter of a time before all hell breaks loose.

Musicians are there in front of you, and the spectators sense their tension, which is not the case when you're listening to a record. Your attention is more relaxed. The emotional aspect is more important in live music.

I don't think that writing, real writing, has much to do with affirming belief--if anything it causes rifts and gaps in belief which make belief more complex and more textured, more real. Good writing unsettles, destroys both the author and the reader. From my perspective, there always has to be a tension between the writer and the monolithic elements of the culture, such as religion.