Heaving Quotes

Authors: A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z
Categories: A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z
im-your-servant-my-immortal-pale-perfect-such-unholy-heaving-ludo
he-swallowed-down-dry-choking-sobs-which-had-been-heaving-up-from-his-heart-hitherto-elizabeth-gaskell
dear-earphones-please-just-stop-having-heaving-sex-in-my-pocket-sincerely-tired-of-untangling
just-as-wave-cannot-exist-for-itself-but-is-ever-part-heaving-surface-ocean-must-i-never-live-my-life-for-itself-but-always-in-experience-which-is-going-on-around-me-albert-schwe
black-are-the-brooding-clouds-and-troubled-the-deep-waters-when-the-sea-of-thought-first-heaving-from-a-calm-gives-up-its-dead
anything-more-low-obscene-feculent-manifold-heavings-history-have-not-cast-up-we-shall-come-to-worship-onions-cats-things-vermiculite-rufus-choate
what-would-martian-visitor-think-to-see-human-being-laugh-it-must-look-truly-horrible-sight-furious-gestures-flailing-limbs-thorax-heaving-in-marvin-minsky
she-is-stunning-in-her-anger-her-eyes-are-bright-her-chest-is-heaving-all-i-want-to-do-is-slam-against-her-into-nearest-wall-i-take-deep-breath-to-calm-hormones-again-alex-mr-fie
reform-is-born-need-not-pity-no-vital-movement-people-has-worked-down-for-good-evil-fermented-instead-carried-up-heaving-cloggy-mass-rebecca-harding-davis
the-winds-awaken-leaves-whirl-roundour-cheeks-are-pale-our-hair-is-unboundour-breasts-are-heaving-our-eyes-are-agleamour-arms-are-waving-our-lips-are-william-butler-yeats
we-can-no-longer-stand-for-security-council-passing-resolutions-then-in-effect-heaving-alongside-taking-vacation-we-cannot-leave-it-to-secretary-general-to-go-cap-in-hand
for-millions-years-on-average-one-species-became-extinct-every-century-we-are-now-heaving-more-than-thousand-different-species-animals-plants-off-douglas-adams
my-body-is-cracking-from-pain-i-have-swallowed-many-times-heaving-with-sobs-i-can-no-longer-suppress-my-dignity-dissolving-in-my-tears-agony-these-past-few-days-ripping-my-skin-t
then-skopamish-showed-up-their-chests-heaving-rotting-eyes-like-dull-raisins-in-their-skulls-their-eyes-found-mine-like-witching-wand-seeking-water-tamara-rose-blodgett
edwins-creations-landed-hit-miss-on-board-one-miss-year-ago-ended-with-us-heaving-overboard-for-week-fortifying-meal-solutions-my-ass-katherine-mcintyre
a-lonely-man-is-lonesome-thing-stone-bone-stick-receptacle-for-gilbeys-gin-stooped-figure-sitting-at-edge-hotel-bed-heaving-copious-sighs-john-cheever
i-got-hold-copy-video-that-showed-how-saddam-hussein-had-actually-confirmed-himself-in-power-this-snuffmovie-opens-with-plenary-session-baath-party-central-committee-perhaps-hund
excised-and-anatomised-deviscerated-disarray-the-torso-diverged-with-pride-deftly-amputated-evulsed-limbs-now-defunct-the-trunk-imbrued-tatty-stumps-the-berzerker
Suddenly, the man was thrown off her. Darcy looked around, but saw nothing. She rose up on her elbows to see the man climbing to his feet, shaking his head to clear it. His four comrades were looking up to the sky nervously. A huge, dark shape descended from the sky, vanishing quickly. Along with one of her attackers. Darcy was afraid to move and be taken as well. She remained still, her chest heaving. Another shape formed out of the dark sky. She could only stare openmouthed at the dragon coming right for her. Just before he touched down, the dragon shifted, taking the form of a man-a man that left her breathless and awestruck. There was no denying she was looking at a Dragon King. He stood naked, his hands at his sides while his gaze was riveted on the men who accosted her. The shadows kept much of him out of sight, but the streetlamps shed enough light of the hard sinew of his body that she wanted to see more. His lips peeled back in a snarl as he fought the four remaining men. He moved quickly, as if it were as effortless as breathing. The men began to throw huge bubbles of magic at the Dragon King. He dodged many of them. The few that hit him barely made an impact other than to infuriate him, if his bared teeth were any indication. The man-or whatever he was-who had stopped her in the pub was struck down with lethal force by the Dragon King. Darcy almost cheered, but it got lodged in her throat when she saw something out of the corner of her eye. Had she not turned right then, Darcy would never have seen the second dragon swoop from the sky and wrap its talons around another of the men before flying away, crushing him. That left just two of her attackers. They and the Dragon King circled each other on the street. 'She's ours, ' one of the red-eyed men said. The Dragon King merely raised a brow. 'Think again, Dark.' More globes of magic flew from the two Dark, but the Dragon King was too fast. He came up behind one of the Dark and ripped out his spinal column. The same instant the dragon grabbed the other. Both Dark fell lifeless to the ground a moment later. Darcy hadn't moved a muscle in the few minutes that had passed. The need that had assaulted her earlier with the Dark was now gone. But she wasn't alone. The Dragon King's gaze turned to her. Darcy watched him standing in the glow of the streetlight, completely mesmerized by the dragon tat that ran from the King's right shoulder, under his armpit, and down his side to the top of his right thigh. The dragon's head was at the front of the man's shoulder and had his mouth open as if on a roar. He was rearing with his wings up and out. It was his long tail that stopped at the King's thigh. The King glistened with sweat that made his muscles gleam in the light. Darcy had the absurd notion to run her hands all over his body, learning the feel of his hard muscles and warm skin. Her gaze traveled down his wide chest to his washboard stomach and narrow waist. Then lower...

Donna Grant
suddenly-man-was-thrown-off-her-darcy-looked-around-but-saw-nothing-she-rose-up-on-her-elbows-to-see-man-climbing-to-his-feet-shaking-his-head-to-clear-it-his-four-comrades-were-
The plane banked, and he pressed his face against the cold window. The ocean tilted up to meet him, its dark surface studded with points of light that looked like constellations, fallen stars. The tourist sitting next to him asked him what they were. Nathan explained that the bright lights marked the boundaries of the ocean cemeteries. The lights that were fainter were memory buoys. They were the equivalent of tombstones on land: they marked the actual graves. While he was talking he noticed scratch-marks on the water, hundreds of white gashes, and suddenly the captain's voice, crackling over the intercom, interrupted him. The ships they could see on the right side of the aircraft were returning from a rehearsal for the service of remembrance that was held on the ocean every year. Towards the end of the week, in case they hadn't realised, a unique festival was due to take place in Moon Beach. It was known as the Day of the Dead... When he was young, it had been one of the days he most looked forward to. Yvonne would come and stay, and she'd always bring a fish with her, a huge fish freshly caught on the ocean, and she'd gut it on the kitchen table. Fish should be eaten, she'd said, because fish were the guardians of the soul, and she was so powerful in her belief that nobody dared to disagree. He remembered how the fish lay gaping on its bed of newspaper, the flesh dark-red and subtly ribbed where it was split in half, and Yvonne with her sleeves rolled back and her wrists dipped in blood that smelt of tin. It was a day that abounded in peculiar traditions. Pass any candy store in the city and there'd be marzipan skulls and sugar fish and little white chocolate bones for 5 cents each. Pass any bakery and you'd see cakes slathered in blue icing, cakes sprinkled with sea-salt.If you made a Day of the Dead cake at home you always hid a coin in it, and the person who found it was supposed to live forever. Once, when she was four, Georgia had swallowed the coin and almost choked. It was still one of her favourite stories about herself. In the afternoon, there'd be costume parties. You dressed up as Lazarus or Frankenstein, or you went as one of your dead relations. Or, if you couldn't think of anything else, you just wore something blue because that was the colour you went when you were buried at the bottom of the ocean. And everywhere there were bowls of candy and slices of special home-made Day of the Dead cake. Nobody's mother ever got it right. You always had to spit it out and shove it down the back of some chair. Later, when it grew dark, a fleet of ships would set sail for the ocean cemeteries, and the remembrance service would be held. Lying awake in his room, he'd imagine the boats rocking the the priest's voice pushed and pulled by the wind. And then, later still, after the boats had gone, the dead would rise from the ocean bed and walk on the water. They gathered the flowers that had been left as offerings, they blew the floating candles out. Smoke that smelt of churches poured from the wicks, drifted over the slowly heaving ocean, hid their feet. It was a night of strange occurrences. It was the night that everyone was Jesus... Thousands drove in for the celebrations. All Friday night the streets would be packed with people dressed head to toe in blue. Sometimes they painted their hands and faces too. Sometimes they dyed their hair. That was what you did in Moon Beach. Turned blue once a year. And then, sooner or later, you turned blue forever.

Rupert Thomson
the-plane-banked-he-pressed-his-face-against-cold-window-the-ocean-tilted-up-to-meet-him-its-dark-surface-studded-with-points-light-that-looked-like-constellations-fallen-stars-t
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