Hissing 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
a-hissing-line-and-stranded-as
when-my-enemies-stop-hissing-i-shall-know-im-slipping-maria-callas
entrails-no-hissing-this-is-the-closest-we-will-ever-come-to-love
if-you-do-panto-everyone-says-you-are-washed-up-but-i-love-all-booing-hissing-jennifer-ellison
envys-coal-comes-hissing-hot-from-hell-philip-james-bailey
they-will-not-hear-its-hissing-they-will-forever-abide-in-what-their-hearts-desire-alanbiya-102
and-babylon-shall-become-heaps-a-dwellingplace-for-dragons-an-astonishment-and-an-hissing-without-an-inhabitant
a-madagascar-hissing-roach-chasing-jerry-lewis-that-would-be-really-neat-treat
and-i-will-make-this-city-desolate-and-an-hissing-every-one-that-passeth-thereby-shall-be-astonished-and-hiss-because-of-all-the-plagues-thereof
to-make-their-land-desolate-and-a-perpetual-hissing-every-one-that-passeth-thereby-shall-be-astonished-and-wag-his-head
the-scream-twelveinch-shrapnel-is-more-penetrating-than-hiss-from-thousand-jewish-newspaper-vipers-therefore-let-them-go-on-with-their-hissing-adolf-hitler
as-dragon-charged-it-released-huge-clouds-hissing-steam-through-its-nostrils-it-was-almost-as-if-gigantic-teapot-had-gone-mad-heywood-broun
serpent-hissing-between-lips-envy-is-huge-completely-fills-her-wideopened-mouth-that-muscles-her-face-are-strained-contorted-marcel-proust
the-art-taxation-consists-in-plucking-goose-as-to-obtain-largest-amount-feathers-with-least-possible-amount-hissing-jeanbaptiste-colbert
solar-bursts-typically-last-from-half-minute-to-couple-minutes-often-sound-like-rapid-hissing-noise-followed-by-gradual-decrease-back-to-honor-harger
teahour-is-hour-peace-strife-is-lost-in-hissing-kettle-tranquilizing-sound-second-only-to-purring-cat-agnes-repplier
life-is-not-as-idle-ore-but-iron-dug-from-central-gloom-and-heated-hot-with-burning-fears-and-dipt-in-baths-hissing-tears-and-batterd-with-shocks-alfred-lord-tennyson
but-clouds-bellied-out-in-sultry-heat-sky-cracked-open-with-crimson-gash-spewed-flame-ancient-forest-began-to-smoke-by-morning-there-was-mass-booming-fiery-tongues-hissing-crashi
I've heard that when you're in a life-or-death situation, like a car accident or a gunfight, all your senses shoot up to almost superhuman level, everything slows down, and you're hyper-aware of what's happening around you. As the shuttle careens toward the earth, the exact opposite is true for me. Everything silences, even the screams and shouts from the people on the other side of the metal door, the crashes that I pray aren't bodies, the hissing of rockets, Elder's cursing, my pounding heartbeat. I feel nothing-not the seat belt biting into my flesh, not my clenching jaw, nothing. My whole body is numb. Scent and taste disappear. The only thing about my body that works is my eyes, and they are filled with the image before them. The ground seems to leap up at us as we hurtle toward it. Through the blurry image of the world below us, I see the outline of land-a continent. And at once, my heart lurches with the desire to know this world, to make it our home. My eyes drink up the image of the planet-and my stomach sinks with the knowledge that this is a coastline I've never seen before. I could spin a globe of Earth around and still be able to recognize the way Spain and Portugal reach into the Atlantic, the curve of the Gulf of Mexico, the pointy end of India. But this continent-it dips and curves in ways I don't recognize, swirls into an unknown sea, creating peninsulas in shapes I do not know, scattering out islands in a pattern I cannot connect. And it's not until I see this that I realize: this world may one day become our home, but it will never be the home I left behind.

Beth Revis
ive-heard-that-when-youre-in-lifedeath-situation-like-car-accident-gunfight-all-your-senses-shoot-up-to-almost-superhuman-level-everything-slows-down-youre-hyperaware-whats-happe
What are you doing following me around the back streets of London, you little idiot?' Will demanded, giving her arm a light shake. Cecily's eyes narrowed. 'This morning it was cariad (note: Welsh endearment, like 'darling' or 'love'), now it's idiot.' 'Oh, you're using a Glamour rune. There's one thing to declare, you are not afraid of anything when you live in the country. But this is London.' 'I'm not afraid of London, ' Cecily said defiantly. Will leaned closer, almost hissing in her ear and said something very complicated in Welsh She laughed. 'No, it wouldn't do you any good to tell me to go home. You are my brother, and I want to go with you.' Will blinked at her words. You are my brother, and I want to go with you. It was the sort of thing he was used to hearing Jem say. Although Cecily was unlike Jem in every other conceivable possible way, she did share one quality with him. Stubbornness. When Cecily said she wanted something, it did not express an idle desire, but an iron determination. 'Do you even care where I'm going?' he said. 'What if I were going to hell?' 'I've always wanted to see hell, ' Cecily said. 'Doesn't everyone?' 'Most of us spend our time trying to stay out of it, Cecily. I'm going to an ifrit den, if you must know, to purchase drugs from vile, dissolute criminals. They may clap eyes on you, and decide to sell you.' 'Wouldn't you stop them?' 'I suppose it would depend on whether they cut me a part of the profit.' She shook her head. 'Jem is your parabatai, ' she said. 'He is your brother, given to you by the Clave, but I am your sister by blood. Why would you do anything for him, but you only want me to go home?' 'How do you know the drugs are for Jem?' Will said. 'I'm not an idiot, Will.' 'No, more's the pity. Jem- Jem is like the better part of me. I would not expect you to understand. I owe him. I owe him this.' 'So what am I?' Cecily said. Will exhaled, too desperate to check himself. 'You are my weakness.' 'And Tessa is your heart, ' she said, not angrily, but thoughtfully. 'I am not fooled. As I told you, I'm not an idiot. And more's the pity for you, although I suppose we all want things we can't have.' 'Oh, ' said Will, 'and what do you want?' 'I want you to come home.' A strand of black hair was stuck to her cheek by the dampness, and Will fought the urge to pull her cloak closer about her, to make her safe as he had when she was a child. 'The Institute is my home, ' Will sighed, and leaned his head against the stone wall. 'I can't stand out her arguing with you all evening, Cecily. If you're determined to follow me into hell, I can't stop you.' 'Finally, ' she said provingly. 'You've seen sense. I knew you would, you're related to me.' Will fought the urge to shake her. 'Are you ready?' She nodded, and he raised his hand to knock on the door.

Cassandra Clare
what-are-you-doing-following-me-around-back-streets-london-you-little-idiot-will-demanded-giving-her-arm-light-shake-cecilys-eyes-narrowed-this-morning-it-was-cariad-note-welsh-e
Like the most of you, I was raised among people who knew - who were certain. They did not reason or investigate. They had no doubts. They knew that they had the truth. In their creed there was no guess - no perhaps. They had a revelation from God. They knew the beginning of things. They knew that God commenced to create one Monday morning, four thousand and four years before Christ. They knew that in the eternity - back of that morning, he had done nothing. They knew that it took him six days to make the earth - all plants, all animals, all life, and all the globes that wheel in space. They knew exactly what he did each day and when he rested. They knew the origin, the cause of evil, of all crime, of all disease and death. At the same time they knew that God created man in his own image and was perfectly satisfied with his work... They knew all about the Flood - knew that God, with the exception of eight, drowned all his children - the old and young - the bowed patriarch and the dimpled babe - the young man and the merry maiden - the loving mother and the laughing child - because his mercy endureth forever. They knew too, that he drowned the beasts and birds - everything that walked or crawled or flew - because his loving kindness is over all his works. They knew that God, for the purpose of civilizing his children, had devoured some with earthquakes, destroyed some with storms of fire, killed some with his lightnings, millions with famine, with pestilence, and sacrificed countless thousands upon the fields of war. They knew that it was necessary to believe these things and to love God. They knew that there could be no salvation except by faith, and through the atoning blood of Jesus Christ. Then I asked myself the question: Is there a supernatural power - an arbitrary mind - an enthroned God - a supreme will that sways the tides and currents of the world - to which all causes bow? I do not deny. I do not know - but I do not believe. I believe that the natural is supreme - that from the infinite chain no link can be lost or broken - that there is no supernatural power that can answer prayer - no power that worship can persuade or change - no power that cares for man. Is there a God? I do not know. Is man immortal? I do not know. One thing I do know, and that is, that neither hope, nor fear, belief, nor denial, can change the fact. It is as it is, and it will be as it must be. We can be as honest as we are ignorant. If we are, when asked what is beyond the horizon of the known, we must say that we do not know. We can tell the truth, and we can enjoy the blessed freedom that the brave have won. We can destroy the monsters of superstition, the hissing snakes of ignorance and fear. We can drive from our minds the frightful things that tear and wound with beak and fang. We can civilize our fellow-men. We can fill our lives with generous deeds, with loving words, with art and song, and all the ecstasies of love. We can flood our years with sunshine - with the divine climate of kindness, and we can drain to the last drop the golden cup of joy.

Robert G. Ingersoll
like-most-you-i-was-raised-among-people-who-knew-who-were-certain-they-did-not-reason-investigate-they-had-no-doubts-they-knew-that-they-had-truth-in-their-creed-there-was-no-gue
It was getting difficult to see exactly what was going on in the pool and a fourth officer jumped in as one came up with the unconscious form of the first cop. While others pulled the half-drowned man from the pool, three more wrestled Skorzeny to the surface and dragged him to the steps at the shallow end of the pool. He wasn't struggling any longer. Nor was he breathing with any apparent difficulty. The biggest of the three cops later admitted to punching him as hard as he could in the stomach and Skorzey doubled over. Another half-dragged him, still on his feet, shirt torn, jacket ripped, out of the pool and put a handcuff on his left wrist. Skorzeny pulled his arm away from the cop and, suddenly straightening, elbow-jabbed him in the gut, sending him sprawling and rolling back into the pool. Skorzeny turned toward the back fence and was now between the pool and a small palm tree. Before him were two advancing officers, pistols leveled. Behind him two more circled the pool. Skorzeny lunged forward and all fired simultaneously. The noise was deafening. Lights in neighboring houses began to go on. Skorzeny's body twitched and bucked as the heavy slugs ripped through his body. His forward momentum carried him into the officers ahead of him and he half-crawled, half-staggered to the southeast corner of the yard where another gate was set into the fiberglass fencing. Two more officers, across the pool, cut loose with their pistols, emptying them into this writing body which danced like a puppet. Another cop fired two shots from his pump-action shotgun and Skorzeny was lifted clean off his feet and slammed against the gate, sagging to the ground. En masse from both ends of the pool they advanced, when he gave out with a terrible hissing snarl and started to rise once more. All movement ceased as the cops, to a man, stood frozen in their tracks. Skorzeny stood there like some hideous caricature, his shredding clothing and skin hanging like limp rags from his scarecrow form. His flesh was ripped in several places and he was oozing something that looked like watered-down blood. It was pinkish and transparent. He stood there like a living nightmare. Then he straightened and raised his fist with the cuff still dangling from it like a charm bracelet. 'Fools!' he shrieked. 'You can't kill me. You can't even hurt me.' Overhead, the copter hovered, the copilot giving a blow-by-blow description of the fight over the radio. The police on the ground were paralyzed. Nearly thirty shots had been fired (the bullets later tallied in reports turned in by the participating officers) and their quarry was still as strong as ever. He'd been hit repeatedly in the head and legs, so a bulletproof vest wasn't the answer. And at distances sometimes as little as five feet, they could hardly have missed. They'd seen him hit. They stood frozen in an eerie tableau as the still roiling pool water threw weird reflections all over the yard. Then Skorzeny did the most frightening thing of all. He smiled. A red-rimmed, hideous grin revealing fangs that 'would have done justice to a Doberman Pinscher.

Jeff Rice
it-was-getting-difficult-to-see-exactly-what-was-going-on-in-pool-fourth-officer-jumped-in-as-one-came-up-with-unconscious-form-first-cop-while-others-pulled-halfdrowned-man-from
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