Quotes About Throbbing

Develop interest in life as you see it; in people, things, literature, music—the world is so rich, simply throbbing with rich treasures, beautiful souls and interesting people. Forget yourself. HENRY MILLER

He had to have her, he couldn't wait, the need throbbed through him hot and urgent. But here? On the wooden floor of his brother's gazebo?

pain, though, was in his head. It was throbbing. Hot. If the feeling could be a colour, it would

I keep going, because now I'm fascinated by the way Roamer's veins are throbbing, and the way his head looks like a lightbulb, all lit up and too bright.

There is joy, joy, joy in serving Jesus Joy that throbs within my heart Every moment, every hour as I draw upon His power There is joy, joy, joy that never shall depart

Every bone in her body felt as if it were broken, her muscles and skin bruised, agony throbbing through her joints. Gritting

Her head throbbed as though gremlins were ripping holes in her brain

Life is a fragile hybrid throbbing, at each instant, between being and nothingness.

Life is everywhere. The earth is throbbing with it - it's like music. The plants, the creatures, the ones we see, the ones we don't see, it's like one, big, pulsating symphony.

Severed and gone, so many years! And art thou still so dear to me, That throbbing heart and burning tears Can witness how I cling to thee?

You wanted me to get a job. Well, that's their job-screening. I kill him, or he kills me. Winner gets the job. (Steele) You're kidding. (Syd) Absolutely. I'm not the least bit serious. All of this is one big hallucination. And I'm not sitting over here bleeding to death. But hey, since it's a hallucination, could you please make my arm stop throbbing because right now it hurts like hell. (Steele)

When I go to the shore, I take along the poems of Pablo Neruda. I suppose it's because the poems are simultaneously lush and ripe and kind of lazy, yet throbbing with life - like summer itself.

It came with the wind through the silence of the night, a long, deep mutter, then a rising howl, and then the sad moan in which it died away. Again and again it sounded, the whole air throbbing with it, strident, wild and menacing.

chain link heat, a little over whelming some times when the sweat runs down your body like so many open veins jagged and throbbing

Cameras flashed. I turned away and saw spots. It was surreal. That's what people always say to describe moments that are merely unusual. I thought: You have no fucking idea what surreal is. My hangover was really warming up now, my left eye throbbing like a heart.

I have always loved Naoko, and I still love her. But there is a decisive finality to what exists between Midori and me. It has an irresistible power that is bound to sweep me into the future. What I feel for Naoko is a tremendously quiet and gentle and transparent love, but what I feel for Midori is a wholly different emotion. It stands and walks on its own, living and breathing and throbbing and shaking me to the roots of my being.

She tries to think, but the monotonous stuttering of the wheels breaks the flow of her thoughts, and the narcotic cowl of sleep tightens over her throbbing forehead—that muffled and yet overpowering railroad-sleep in which one lies rapt and benumbed as though in a shuddering black coal sack made of metal.

Everything is infected with brightness, throbbing with it, and she prays for dark the way a wanderer lost in the desert prays for water. The world is every bit as barren of darkness as a desert is of water. There is no dark in the shuttered room, no dark behind her eyelids. There are only greater and lesser degrees of radiance. When she's crossed over to this realm of relentless brilliance, the voices start.

Was this love? Because it hurt. It was like a bit of glass stuck somewhere important--his heart or his head, and it was throbbing.

His headache was still sitting over his right eye as if it had been nailed there.

Helga Crane was silent, feeling a mystifying yearning which sang and throbbed in her.

The Soul can hear the violets grow! It can hear the throbbing heart of God!

We shall be notes in that great Symphony Whose cadence circles through the rhythmic spheres, And all the live World's throbbing heart shall be One with our heart, the stealthy creeping years Have lost their terror now, we shall not die, The Universe itself shall be our Immortality!

When things are shaky and nothing is working, we might realize that we are on the verge of something. We might realize that this is a very vulnerable and tender place, and that tenderness can go either way. We can shut down and feel resentful or we can touch in on that throbbing quality. There is definitely something tender and throbbing about groundlessness.