Quotes About Discomfort

We are well," Hugh said, looking me over with more intensity than seemed proper. "And you?" "I'm well, thank you," I said, lying through my teeth. I'd been better the day I took to my bed with measles.

Oh good Lord. She definitely hadn't put on enough deodorant for this.

You're green. Tell me you have the flu." "No." "The shoulder?" "Yeah." "Well, fuck me." "I'd rather not.

Tilly: How are you doing? Quinn: I'm thirty months pregnant, how do you think I'm doing? I'm peeing every two seconds and eating the house.

they were all sweating like hookers in a confessional

It gets too hot in there after a long test," he told Ehren. "The air gets all squishy." "It's called humidity, Tavi," Ehren said. "I haven't slept in almost two days. It's squishy.

I felt like a collection of complaints and malfunctions

He leant back to stare heavenwards, gently fingering the swollen skin around his black eye. But the river stank. Reduced by the heat like a good soup, it was sixty per cent ducks' piss with a hint of incontinent rat.

I was cold because nothing in my body was working as it should.

At least she'd finally figured out why the green leggings she wore were called tights. It was because they were tight. Extremely tight. So very tight that she felt like a sausage about to split open on a blazing hot barbecue grill.

But it was like wearing a size five sneakers when your foot is a seven- you can get by for a few steps, and then you set down and pull off the shoes because it just plain much

It's a bad day when my glasses are M.I.A.

I hate being around a bunch of drunk a.. adults.

Being sick and having a nose ring sucks!

You know what's the worst? Being sick in the Summertime.

3 reasons why I hate being sick: 1. I can't smell anything 2. I can't taste anything 3. I have to keep blowing my nose!

In short, I was in a familiar place, the place of feeling unfamiliar, which I responded to in my usual fashion by arming myself with a gin and tonic, my first of the evening. I

the sodden, sweaty weariness of his own body, the whisky misery of it.

People believe easily when it doesn't cause them any discomfort. It's when it hurts to believe that believing means something.

My hands felt bruised from the hot, dry air. Inside,

The twist in his lower back that was aggravated by lifting objects, or sneezing, or moving, or not moving. No one had ever told him that growing old would hurt so much.

Nobody ever died of discomfort, yet living in the name of comfort has killed more ideas, more opportunities, more actions, and more growth than everything else combined. Comfort kills!

When I dance, I look like I'm a dad at a prom. I never grasped my limbs. Ever since puberty I've just kind of felt like we don't understand each other.

He'd never lost the simple pleasure, which went way back, of making people uncomfortable, comfortable people especially.