Quotes About Tension

crevices. There was a noise in his

Non-Euclidean calculus and quantum physics are enough to stretch any brain; and when one mixes them with folklore, and tries to trace a strange background of multi-dimensional reality behind the ghoulish hints of Gothic tales and the wild whispers of the chimney-corner, one can hardly expect to be wholly free from mental tension.

The world is a chaos, an irreducible plurality of forces, instincts and drives which ceaselessly clash.

The people who were content with each other spoke as little as those who bristled with resentment or boredom; it was the rhythm of their speech that differed, like a lazy tennis ball batted back and forth or the quick swattings of a fly. *

The intellect must not be kept at consistent tension, but diverted by pastimes.... The mind must have relaxation, and will rise stronger and keener after recreation.

Her voice sounded like a string that was fraying.

one half leaning in, one half pulling away.

These days it seemed like the words between them were there only to outline the silences.

It was one of those moments where I knew we were not having the conversation that we needed to be having. And since I didn't really know what to say, never having crossed this particular bridge between thought and deed before, I pressed my and against the thick ridge in his pants. He backed away from me.

He was suffering from wanderlust, complicated by the tension of knowing that he was rooted to this town by something as simple as his name.

There are the ones who believe, and the ones who don't, and caught in the space between them are guns.

Can a person hold tightly to two thoughts that look, at first sight, as if they'd cancel each other out?

I can't believe you're making jokes while I'm freaking out.

MÄ›l jsem strach. Kdo by nemÄ›l nahnáno? KromÄ› blázn?, robot?, kandidát? na sebevraždu... ... a d?stojník?.

I cut him off at once, with that particular form of corrosive savagery that grown sons reserve for their bumbling fathers.

So, I begin each day with a gesture of cynicism, and close it with a gesture of faith; or, if you prefer, begin it by reminding myself that, for me at least, goals and objectives are without value, and close it by demonstrating that the fact is irrelevant. A gesture of temporality, a gesture of eternity. It is in the tension between these two gestures that I have lived my adult life.

He held it out to Maude, who leaned forward, keeping her eyes locked on his as the cigarette began to spark, and then she sat back again, her left hand poised on the mattress behind her. She continued to stare at him before turning her face towards the ceiling and blowing a great cloud of white smoke in the air, as if she was preparing to announce the election of a new Pope.

I sat down again, wishing I had never been brought here. It was as if I had walked onstage into the middle of a dramatic play, where the other characters are already engaged in a battle that has been going on for some years but which only now, upon my arrival, is allowed to reach a climax.

When shame underlies the control and release it seems to intensify both sides of the tension. . . . Shame makes the control dynamic more rigidly demanding and unforgiving and the release more dynamic and self-destructive. The more intensely one controls, the more one requires the balance of release and the more abusingly or self destructively one releases, the more intensely one requires control.

It's as the old adage says: motion causes friction.

I hate you but I still love you. It's like I want to throw you off a cliff then rush down to save you.

My head says who cares? But then my heart says you do stupid...

Me and my heart we got issues, don't know if I should hate you or miss you.

The feeling where you don't know whether to punch the wall or cry in a dark room.