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1 " Everyone thinks that courage is about facing death without flinching. But almost anyone can do that. Almost anyone can hold their breath and not scream for as long as it takes to die. True courage is about facing life without flinching. I don't mean the times when the right path is hard, but glorious at the end. I'm talking about enduring the boredom, the messiness, and the inconvenience of doing what is right. "
― Robin Hobb , The Mad Ship (Liveship Traders, #2)
2 " There are some dogs which, when you meet them, remind you that, despite thousands of years of man-made evolution, every dog is still only two meals away from being a wolf. These dogs advance deliberately, purposefully, the wilderness made flesh, their teeth yellow, their breath a-stink, while in the distance their owners witter, " He's an old soppy really, just poke him if he's a nuisance," and in the green of their eyes the red campfires of the Pleistocene gleam and flicker. "
3 " Once again, we are reminded that awakening, or enlightenment is not the property of Buddhism, any more than Truth is the property of Christianity. Neither the Buddha nor the Christ belongs exclusively to the communities that were founded in their names. They belong to all people of goodwill, all who are attentive to the secret which lives in the depths of their breath and their consciousness. (14) "
― Jean-Yves Leloup , Compassion and Meditation: The Spiritual Dynamic between Buddhism and Christianity
4 " It throbbed and pulsed, channeled by elemental forces of fear, love, hope, and sadness. The bow stabbed and flitted across the strings in a violent whorl of creation; its hairs tore and split until it seemed the last strands would sever in a scrape of dissonance. Those who saw the last fragile remnants held their breath against the breaking. The music rippled across the ship like a spirit, like a thing alive and eldritch and pregnant with mystery. The song held. More than held, it deepened. It groaned. It resounded in the hollows of those who heard. Then it softened into tones long, slow, and patient and reminded men of the faintest stars trembling dimly in defiance of a ravening dark. At the last, when the golden hairs of the bow had given all the sound they knew, the music fled in a whisper. Fin was both emptied and filled, and the song sighed away on the wind. "
― A.S. Peterson , Fiddler's Green (Fin's Revolution, #2)
5 " Some offer their out-flowing breath into the breath that flows in; and the in-flowing breath into the breath that flows out; they aim at Pranayama, breath-harmony, and the flow of their breath is in peace. "
― , The Bhagavad Gita
6 " She hesitated, wiping her hands off on her apron. “I’m not sure if I’ll be here when you get back. This place is a little—it’s a little much for me.”She didn’t have to tell him how it was. He had lived here for years, in a house that wanted to be silent until the silence was broken by a certain step and a certain voice, in a house holding its breath for someone’s return. If anyone held their breath long enough, they were dead. "
― Sarah Rees Brennan , The Turn of the Story
7 " The echo of two boys playing in a pool testing each other to see who could hold their breath the longest.… Whadda ya wanna do now?— I know, we could wrestle like the Roman gladiators— Okay— What do we fight for?— Loser has to do the victor’s homework for a week— Nah, raise the stakes. Loser has to suck the victor’s johnny— Trenton recalled the long ago memory of two boys wrestling, butt naked in the back yard and the battle went on forever locked in each other’s grip. A stalemate tangle in each other’s arm. And they kissed finding each other’s tongue. The taste of it so good and frightening at the same time and they pulled apart fearfully— Deez— Yeah Trent— I don’t think we should tell anyone about this, okay? — Yeah okay— "
― Talon P.S. , Becoming His Slave (Dominion of Brothers, #1)
8 " There can be no doubt that the chief fault we have developed, through the long course of human evolution, is a certain basic passivity. When provoked by challenges, human beings are magnificent. When life is quiet and even, we take the path of least resistance, and then wonder why we feel bored. A man who is determined and active doesn't pay much attention to 'luck'. If things go badly, he takes a deep breath and redoubles his effort. And he quickly discovers that his moments of deepest happiness often come after such efforts. The man who has become accustomed to a passive existence becomes preoccupied with 'luck'; it may become an obsession. When things go well, he is delighted and good humored; when they go badly, he becomes gloomy and petulant. He is unhappy—or dissatisfied—most of the time, for even when he has no cause for complaint, he feels that gratitude would be premature; things might go wrong at any moment; you can't really trust the world... Gambling is one basic response to this passivity, revealing the obsession with luck, the desire to make things happen.The absurdity about this attitude is that we fail to recognize the active part we play in making life a pleasure. When my will is active, my whole mental and physical being works better, just as my digestion works better if I take exercise between meals. I gain an increasing feeling of control over my life, instead of the feeling of helplessness (what Sartre calls 'contingency') that comes from long periods of passivity. Yet even people who are intelligent enough to recognize this find the habit of passivity so deeply ingrained that they find themselves holding their breath when things go well, hoping fate will continue to be kind. "
― Colin Wilson , Strange Powers
9 " Every small town has at least one house the children whisper about; the type of house that has always been abandoned; where the once pristine white paint has faded to a grimy gray; where the windows are boarded, and the lawn never grows; where children hold their breath and close their eyes as they pass by. A house that sounds like it contains an army of whispering spirits when the wind whistles through the nearby trees.In the town of Blackwood, that house could be found on Creep Street. It had stood there as long as he could remember. "
10 " The music is everywhere, pressing in on them both, so much that she can almost see it floating in the air around them. It’s like wind, but also not, gracing over her skin as light as air, and she can hear it, more than hear it, both in her head and outside of it. It’s like Callum is shocking her, except the transfer is music, rather than electricity, and it goes on nearly forever. She can feel it weaving itself into her head, wrapping around and entangling with her thoughts in little, fragile, insistent tendrils. “It just amazes me,” Callum whispers, voice blending perfectly with the music. “How something can be so soft and so loud at the same time. It’s almost like it isn’t there at all, isn’t it?” The song ends. And in this moment, as the sun sets outside, and the room begins to go dark, she can feel him thinking. She can hear their breath mingling in the silence. She can hear every emotion he’s ever had, and she realizes that, though she has this, this thing that nobody else has, she understands perhaps the least about it of anyone. And he makes her want to. He makes her want to understand more. "
11 " The desert became grim, dark and foreboding. A silence of death lay over the land, and it seemed as though the very stars held their breath and twinkled no more. "
― Alan Kinross , Longinus The Vampire: Babylon
12 " Politicians would be well advised not to hold their breath for youth to engage in politics any time soon. Today’s youth are the first generation to have realized for real change to occur, it must happen on an individual level rather than at an administrative level. "
― James Morcan , The Orphan Conspiracies: 29 Conspiracy Theories from The Orphan Trilogy
13 " A person can hurry through or sleep walk through life, but whenever they stop to catch their breath or awaken from a long nap, they will find apprehension, disquiet, and fretfulness waiting their directed attention. "
― , Dead Toad Scrolls
14 " She was called a cook, but there was no real evidence she had even a small amount of ability to do this. Every meal, no matter how much you thought you liked it before, would be ruined forever after having one of Margery’s slop versions of it. Burger and Chips or Lasagne, as Mike liked, were gruesomely murdered by the time Margery had used the ingredients (and added some special ones of her own!) to deliver a pile of gruel. It did not matter what the menu said; when served, it was always green, even if none of the ingredients were actually green!“Nexxxttt! Hey, you, I said NEXXTT!!!” she shouted at the violet boy who had hesitated to wonder if life was really worth this. “What’s your name, boy? Speak up now and tell me which class you are in?” This was a usual evil method Margery used so children had to give up holding their breath and smell the putrid stench of her sweaty BO mixed with the green muck she scooped from a giant vat beside her. The poor boy nearly passed out when it hit him, but, fortunately, his friend helped him stay up. He quickly grabbed his tray and sloshed his green slush all over as he ran for freedom. NNNNNNEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEXXXXXXXXXXXTTTTTTT!!! "
― , Back on Track
15 " She shifted, bringing them closer. The blanket slipped down to her waist, revealing a blue tee shirt that shouldn't have been sexy, but fit her curves like a second skin and molded her perfect breasts. Their breath mingled. The air charged around them. Their gazes met and locked. Then Lucas sealed his fate and dropped his gaze to her parted lips. " I don't want to be alone tonight," she whispered. "
16 " Lo!" said Percivale, " those I had slain were not put to silence. I heard their breath speak out of the lips of others; I saw their looks mock out of the eyes of others; the life that was gone from their bodies was but draughted to enliven fresh matter. In every ray of light, in every gust that blew, the life of the dead moved to confound me. Ah, Saint, the things they had uttered were black and heavy; I could not bear them. "
17 " This meaning-argument is of a very different kind from the arguments I have been speaking about so far. The premise entails the conclusion all right, but it is so astoundingly false that it defies criticism, at first, by the simple method of taking the reader's breath away. This was a method which the neo-Hegelian idealists later perfected: reasoning from a sudden and violent solecism. Say or imply, for example, that in English “value” means the same as “individuality.” You can be miles down the track of your argument before they get their breath back. This method is not only physiologically but ethologically sound. Of course it should never be used first. You need first to earn the respect of your readers, by some good reasoning, penetrating observations, or the like: then apply the violent solecism. Tell them, for example, that when we say of something that it is a prime number, we mean that it was born out of wedlock. You cannot go wrong this way. Decent philosophers will be so disconcerted by this, that they will never do the one thing they should do: simply say, “That is NOT what ‘prime number’ means!” Instead, they will always begin … [by] casting about for an excuse for someone’s saying what you said, or a half-excuse, or a one-eighth excuse; nor is there any danger that they will search in vain. "
18 " When you love someone it feels like their blood runs through your veins, their breath fills your lungs, their heart makes yours beat, and without them everything stops.”“Fuck. That sounds tragic.”Tell me about it. “It is.” I bend to kiss him again, this time on the forehead. “But it’s worth it. "
― D.R. Graham , One Percenter (Noir et Bleu Motorcycle Club #1)