Quotes About Throat

Every dude in here has had a fantasy about Jessica Simpson. Here's mine: Jessica, hold your sister Ashlee so I can kick her in the throat.

Kritiikin terve verenkierto: kurkut poikki.

Glowing. The moon through a doorway. Breath hard in my throat. Heart full to burst. The moon through a doorway. And its light… Hope.

What was the thread that held together the scattered beads of experience if not the pressure of interpretation? The meaning of life was whatever meaning one could thrust down its reluctant throat.

Y cuando es de noche, siempre, una tribu de palabras mutiladas busca asilo en mi garganta para que no canten ellos, los funestos, los dueños del silencio.

And at night, always, a tribe of mutilated words, looks for refuge in my throat.

Mi garganta es un archipielago maldito

Here's the thing about an apple: it sticks in the throat. It's a package deal: lust and understanding. Immortality and death. Sweet pulp with cyanide seeds.

He was suffering," Miranda recalled, while Parker promptly rolled his eyes. "Not such a stretch, O Psychic One. The guy did have a bullet hole in him." Miranda disregarded the comment. "No…before that, I mean. Some kind of punishment. His throat was raw, and his lips were all cracked. He could taste his own blood. And he really needed water." "Bar fight and hangover. Mystery solved.

Behind me, somebody cleared his throat. It was one of Annabeth's half-brothers, Malcolm. His face was bright red. "Um, sorry," he said. "Archery practice is starting, Annabeth. Chiron said to come find you." I stepped away from Annabeth. "We were just looking at maps," I said stupidly. Malcolm stared at me. "Okay." "Tell Chiron I'll be right there," Annabeth said, and Malcolm left in a hurry.

I you're in prayer, take care of your heart. If you're eating, take cre of your throat. If you're in another man's house, take care of your eyes. If you among people, take care of your tongue.

More than once I had seen a noble who had gotten his enemy at a disadvantage stop to pray before cutting his throat.

I had most need of blessing, and "Amen"Stuck in my throat.

every once in a while, maybe twice a year, I dream of blood. It tastes like copper pennies on your tongue. It's hot, hotter than you expect, and very wet at first, but it clots even as it fills your mouth. It sticks in your throat but you swallow it down, you can feel it stringy and dark in the back of your throat but you force it down so you can have some more, another mouthful, and another. I know it so well now. The dryness of it, the clots in your teeth. The need.

He poured out the wine and took a deep draught of it, then loosened his neckcloth, an act of dinner table impropriety that would have affronted most other wives, but which I strongly encouraged. Brisbane had a very handsome throat.

the spirit of an evil man who tried to take your body Ã¢â'¬Â¦ but you say fire?" "It felt like fire," Stammel said. His throat

I have a perfect cure for a sore throat: cut it.

Nan worked very hard. We didn't speak, but her breaths are a vocabulary. When she's concentrating, her tongue moves across her bottom lip as if polishing it. The air in the back of her throat laps, tide-like.

Camel-nose laughed deep in his muscled throat as if I'd just told him the one about the lumberjack and the water barrel. But he didn't relax his hold on my wrist.

Names called out across the water, names I called you behind your back, sour and delicious, secret and unrepeatable, the names of flowers that open only once, shouted from balconies, shouted from rooftops, or muffled by pillows, or whispered in sleep, or caught in the throat like a lump of meat.

would you like to meet him there, in Heaven? Imagine a room, a sudden glow. Here is my hand, my heart, my throat, my wrist. Here are the illuminated cities at the center of me, and here is the center of me, which is a lake, which is a well that we can drink from, but I can't go through with it. I just don't want to die anymore.

There was a feeling in him like a bruise, a purple ache that set between his ribs. He tasted a cry building at the back of his throat. It was too familiar and made him fearful.

That memory made a lump form in my throat as I remembered his face, serious and gorgeous, those brown eyes intense and passionate as he spoke up for me and convinced the others of my value.

Lila closed her mouth, but the scream continued. It was the insane scream of an hysterical woman, and it came from the throat of Norman Bates.