There is a saying in the Neverland that,every time you breathe, a grown-up dies.
Think of God oftener than you breathe.
Here and now. . . breathe and relax. . . in battle and in life
Whatever. Boris, must you constantly breathe on me?
I felt the exact same way. But if it helps,you look much cuter freaking out than I ever did. " I peeked out through my hands. "But what if I don't get in?" He wrapped his arms around me. "No more worrying about it. You'll get in. " "Good. Someone needs to keep an eye on you and that dirty little dyrad of a lab assistant. " He laughed,squeezing me until I couldn't breathe. "Why would I ever want a lusty tree nymph when I could have a hyperventilating Evie?
You know how they say a man's house is his castle? I think for a woman, it's her body. I feel so strongly about a woman's right to choose. This is my Zionism. It's not a "right" any more than it's a right to breathe, to take in oxygen.
For once, he slept first. She lay in the dark, listening to him breathe, stealing a little of his warmth as her own body cooled. Since he was asleep, she stroked his hair. "I love you," she murmured. "I love you so much, I'm stupid about it. " With a sigh, she settled down, closed her eyes, and willed her mind to empty. Beside her, Roarke smiled into the dark. He never slept first.
I need you to breathe for me.
I fear no man. If you breathe oxygen, I do not fear you.
she held her breath, and in her head, counted seconds. She pretended that for each second she didn’t breathe, God would grant her another day
I write, and I feel how the correct and precise use of words is sometimes like a remedy to an illness. Like a contraption for purifying the air, I breathe in and exhale the murkiness and manipulations of linguistic scoundrels and language rapists of all shades and colors. I write and I feel how the tenderness and intimacy I maintain with language, with its different layers, its eroticism and humor and soul, give me back the person I used to be, me, before my self became nationalized and confiscated by the conflict, by governments and armies, by despair and tragedy.
When I see old photos of me on the beach I don't look too bad. . . but it's hard trying to breathe in for such a long time when I spot the photographers!
A government can be compared to our lungs. Our lungs are best when we don't realize they are helping us breathe. It is when we are constantly aware of our lungs that we know they have come down with an illness.
The trees must breathe so I can breathe.
There were a couple of times that we did end up moving the set [of Helix] outside to shoot some of the outside scenes, just because we needed a bit more space, and that ended up being a little bit more helpful and easier to breathe, when you're dealing with some of the fake snow stuff. It was a lot of fun, and it looks amazing.
I write to breathe life back into memory.
Any great art work … revives and readapts time and space, and the measure of its success is the extent to which it makes you an inhabitant of that world - the extent to which it invites you in and lets you breathe its strange, special air.
Being able to breathe underwater would be sweet.
I feel most vulnerable when I am underprepared - for instance, if I have an audition and haven't worked through the material enough beforehand. Also, if I am running late, I feel completely vulnerable because I am usually the person who is early to everything so that I can settle down and breathe before jumping in to the task at hand.
Remember to breathe. It is after all, the secret of life.