Abdomen Quotes

He slid his hand onto Riley's bare abdomen. "I got to thinkin' that a few years down the line, when yer older, what if that was our baby and I could feel it right here under my hand. Feel the life we'd created."
Riley's eyes moistened. "Girl or boy?"
"Doesn't matter. If it's a girl, we can name her after my gran. Her name was Emily Rose."
"Hmm ... I like that. Maybe the boy could be Paul Arthur, like my dad."
"Yeah, that works. But that's all the way down the line, isn't it?" It might never come to pass. ~ Jana Oliver

in 3000 b.c....in spain, france, the british isles and old europe, the lives of people centered on nature and motherhood. they honored mother nature, mother earth and mother creator. women were revered as the givers of life. as creators, they were thought to be connected to diety. statues of the goddesses of these early people were of full-breasted women with bodies clearly depicting the ballooning abdomen of women about to give birth. these primal people regarded birthing as the highest manifestation of nature. when a woman gave birth, everyone gathered around her in the temple for the "celebration of life." birthing was a religious rite, and not at all the painful ordeal it came to be years later. ~ Marie F. Mongan

I recall vividly the night before one of my own early surgeries, an eight-hour affair that would alter my body permanently. I was twenty-seven and unmarried at the time. Late in the evening a pleasant elderly woman, a technical aide, had come to my hospital room to shave my abdomen in preparation for the procedure. As she went about this humble task with great skill, she had asked me about the next day's surgery. Filled with resentment, self-pity, and a sense of victimhood, I told her what was planned and burst into tears. She had seemed quite surprised. "How would YOU feel if they were going to do this to YOU tomorrow?" I asked her angrily. she had taken my question literally and had thought it over. Then, patting me gently, she had said, "If I needed it to live, I would be glad for the help." Her answer had changed everything. ~ Rachel Naomi Remen

The act of mating concludes with the drone's genitalia being ripped from his abdomen as he falls to his death. ~ C. Marina Marchese

How come you're in such a good mood? You couldn't have gotten much more sleep than I did last night. Are you a morning person?" I ask in mock horror."A mornin' person, well maybe, but let's just say I got to experience the nicest parts of hell last night," he says quietly,taking the shirt I offer him. As he rises out of thebed, I can't help looking over his perfect abdomen and chest before he shrugs into his shirt."I'm sorry, the nicest parts of hell? What does that mean?" I ask."Red, yer not a guy, so there's no point explainin', ~ Amy A. Bartol

For the record, I tried to stop this," I said grimly. Then I turned my attention back to Ian.
The afternoon sun gave his copper-hued hair golden highlights and he made sure that the hard lines of his chest and abdomen were on full display as his pace kept his shirt billowing behind him. Grudgingly, I had to admit that several heads turned, and more than a few cars slowed down as female drivers gave him a second, third and fourth look. Ian responded by flashing them a dazzling smile, making him appear almost angelic to anyone who didn't know that he was a conscienceless slut. ~ Jeaniene Frost

The most numerous accidents bear on the digestive system; it is easy to establish anorexias of various kinds, troubles of deglutition, spasms of oesophagus at various heights, vomitings; then intestinal phenomena - diarrhoeas, as well as constipations, distensions of the abdomen, paralyses, or sphincter-spasms, troubles of the same nature in the emission and even in the secretion of the urine, etc. ~ Anonymous

The baby. Deep, deep inside of her the baby was moving. It was just a flutter. So curious. So light. Then it came again. She gasped. "What is it?" He was over her instantly. She shook her head. "The baby." "My God!" His voice was harsh, rasping. "Is it all right? Did - " "No, no! It's fine. He's moving! I can feel the baby. It's so strange!" His palm moved over her abdomen. "I can't feel it!" he said. She shook her head again. The darkness cast shadows over them both. "No, you can't feel him, not yet. It's just inside. I think it takes time to feel the movement from the outside. But - oh, there again! He's alive, he's moving, he's kicking, he's ... " "He's what?" Jeremy said. His palm still lay gently against her flesh. "He's real!" she breathed. "He's real, he's going to be born, he's going to live. ~ Heather Graham

It's clear that if we use the mind attentively, mental power is increased, and if we concentrate the mind in the moment, it is easier to coordinate mind and body. But in terms of mind and body unity, is there something we can concentrate on that will reliably aid us in discovering this state of coordination?

In Japan, and to some degree other Asian countries, people have historically focused mental strength in the hara (abdomen) as a way of realizing their full potential. Japan has traditionally viewed the hara as the vital center of humanity in a manner not dissimilar to the Western view of the heart or brain. I once read that years ago Japanese children were asked to point to the origin of thoughts and feelings. They inevitably pointed toward the abdominal region. When the same question was asked of American children, most pointed at their heads or hearts. Likewise, Japan and the West have commonly held differing views of what is physical power or physical health, with Japan emphasizing the strength of the waist and lower body and Western people admiring upper body power. (Consider the ideal of the sumo wrestler versus the V-shaped Western bodybuilder with a narrow waist and broad shoulders.)

However, East and West also hold similar viewpoints regarding the hara, and we're perhaps not as dissimilar as some might imagine. For instance, hara ga nai hito describes a cowardly person, "a person with no hara." Sounds similar to our saying that so-and-so "ha ~ H.E. Davey

I would die without you," he finally said. "I'd be crazy with terror if there were six of you to defend.
Not to mention crazy, period." There was a vein of amusement in the final sentence.
She took his hand and moved it to her abdomen. "Did I ever tell you, Dash, how much I dream of babies? Lots of babies. I wanted at least three, more if I could. And if what you say is true about your semen counteracting birth control, do you think you might not have plenty of little girls to protect and go crazy over? What will you do then? Stop having sex with me?"
She saw the pure terror that glittered in his eyes for just a second. Raw, blistering hot fear as his fingers flexed against her abdomen.
"God help me," he groaned. "You will make me crazy, Elizabeth. ~ Lora Leigh

He's morbidly obese. He's unusually bloated. There are needle marks on his abdomen and thighs that indicate he's an insulin-dependent diabetic. His diet was fast food and Skittles.

Collier looked skeptical. "So Harding conveniently slipped into a diabetic coma during the middle of a death match? ~ Karin Slaughter

Oh, Colin." She dabbed a fingertip to his sticky abdomen, then rubbed her fingers together, as though testing the quality of his seed. "That was fascinating. ~ Tessa Dare

Seen under the microscope, Stegomyia is a creature of striking beauty. Its general color is dark gray, but the thorax is marked with a silvery-white lyre-shaped pattern; the abdomen is banded with silvery-white stripes and the six-jointed legs are striped alternately with black and pure white. Among mosquitoes Stegomyia is the height of elegance. ~ David McCullough

Dominic reached behind his head and tugged on his T-shirt. The rising fabric revealed his abdomen. And yeah, he liked the way her gaze followed the hemline. But his arm stilled, his bicep taut and his T-shirt covering his hair. If he kept going, she'd see the damaged skin on his chest from where the bullet had entered.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked. "My scars aren't pretty."

"I promise to focus on your abs," she murmured without looking up. "And lower. ~ Sara Jane Stone

Why do you want me?" I asked, suppressing the trembling of my voice. "I'm strange, definitely not perfect, and fucked up. Actually, a lot of the latter."
"Perfect is boring and overrated." He smiled that lopsided grin of his that made my lower abdomen twist and curl with delicious desire. "I'm looking for sexy, fun, kind, and honest. And you tick all the right boxes, Brooke. ~ J.C. Reed

She covered his hand with hers over her abdomen. His was so much bigger than hers and had probably fired guns, rifles, and god knew what else, but right here, right now, his tenderness broke down her will as sure as any grenade. ~ Lisa Kessler

Particle physicists may freeze a second, open it up, and explore its dappled contents like surgeons pawing through an abdomen, but in real life, when events occur within thousandths of a second, our minds cannot distinguish past from future. ~ James Gleick

Mikhail, I don't know what you want." She didn't know what she wanted either.
He stood up then, power and grace combined. His shadow reached her before he did. His strength was enormous, but his touch was gentle as he pulled her to her feet. His hands slid up her arms, rested lightly on her shoulders, thumbs stroking the pulse in her neck. His touch sent warmth curling in her abdomen.
She was so small beside him, so fragile and vulnerable. "Do not try to leave me, little one. We need one another." His dark head bent lower, his mouth brushing her eyelids, sending little darts of fire licking along her skin. "You make me remember what living is," he whispered in his mesmerizing voice. His mouth found the corner of hers, and a jolt of electricity sizzled through her body.
Raven reached up to touch the shadowed line of his jaw, to place a hand on the heavy muscles of his chest in an attempt to put space between them. "Listen to me, Mikhail." Her voice was husky. "We both know what loneliness is, what real isolation can do to a person. It's beyond my imagination that I can be this close to you, physically touch you, and not be swamped with unwanted burdens. But we can't do this."
Amusement crept into the dark fire of his eyes, a hint of tenderness. His fingers curled around the nape of her neck. "Oh, I think we can." His black velvet voice was pure seduction, his smile frankly sensual. ~ Christine Feehan

She wrapped her arms around his head and hugged him to her abdomen. "Why are you so nice to me?"
His chuckle was muffled against her belly. "I have ulterior motives."
"Such as?"
"Making you mine." Shit. Why had he said that? He was showing his cards much too soon.
She slapped his shoulder. "Don't say it if you don't mean it." He wished he could say he didn't mean it. He didn't particularly want to be so far gone. Ah, what the fuck - he liked her. A lot. She was just going to have to learn to live with it. If he could admit it, surely she could accept it.
"I mean it, Toni." He untangled his head from her grasp so he could look up at her. "I really do like you. And it isn't just lust." For once in his dick-led life. "I can't stop thinking about you. Even when you're not in my bed, you're in my head. It's driving me crazy. I'm not sure how to handle it."
She smiled, and he saw her feelings displayed clearly in her eyes. "You're going to break my heart someday." She released a sigh and stared over his head as she spoke. "I really like you too, Logan. But maybe it's best if we pretend the only thing between us is lust. If I fall for you . . ." She shook her head and closed her eyes.
"You don't trust me with your heart."
"Should I?"
He wanted to say she should, wanted to say that he'd never hurt her, but he, more than anyone, was aware of his track record with women.
"That's something you'll have to decide on your own. ~ Olivia Cunning

She had just given Liger his food when a tap sounded on the connecting door. Priss's heart leaped into her throat.
With excitement.
Not dread, or annoyance, or even indifference.
Pure, sizzling stimulation. Suddenly she was wide-awake.
Tamping down her automatic smile, Priss leaned on the door. "Yeah?"
"Open up."
Still fighting that twitching grin, Priss tried to sound disgruntled as she asked, "Why?"
Something hit the door - maybe his head - and Trace said, "I heard you up and moving around, Priss. I have coffee ready, but if you don't want any - "
Being a true caffeine junkie, she jerked open the door. "Oh, bless you, man." She took the cup straight out of Trace's hand, drank deeply and sighed as the warmth penetrated the thick fog of novel sentiment. "Ahhhh. Nirvana. Thank you."
Only after the caffeine ingestion did she notice that Trace wore unsnapped jeans and nothing else. Her eyes flared wide and her jaw felt loose. Holy moly.
"That was my cup," Trace told her, bemused.
But Priss could only stare at him. Despite the delicious coffee she'd just poured in it, her mouth went dry.
When she continued to stare at him, at his chest and abdomen, her gaze tracking a silky line of brown hair that disappeared into his jeans, Trace crossed his arms.
Her gaze jumped to his face and she found him watching her with equal fascination.
A little lost as to the reason for that look, Priss asked with some belligerence, ~ Lori Foster

Hawke."
"Shh ... Lie back and think of England."
Laughter reawakened inside of her, bubbling its way past the raw burn of emotion. "I'd rather think of you."
She felt his smile against the curve of her abdomen, his jaw rough with stubble that made her shiver as he kissed his way oh-so-slowly down her body. ~ Nalini Singh

I like you."

"I like you, too."

"I've liked you since the morning you ran into me."

I giggle and try to shove him away, but he uses the motion to pull us closer. "You have not," I say.

"I have," he whispers, and now his lips brush against my cheek. "I remember thinking, 'Nice job, dickhead. Add another girl to the list of people who hate you.'"

"I don't hate you. I've never hated you."

"Now, that's reassuring," he says, but I can hear the smile in his voice. He inhales along my cheekbone, and sparks flare through my abdomen. "You should write for Hallmark."

"All my future love letters will start with 'To whom it may concern.'"

"Are you going to send me future love letters?"

I flush, and I'm sure he can see it. Feel it. ~ Brigid Kemmerer

But then one morning when I'd been on night shift, she miscarried suddenly and severely. The doctor said it seemed as though she had provoked it herself. I found that hard to believe, given how much she'd been looking forward to having the baby. At any rate, there were large blue bruises on her abdomen. But it's impossible to know about these things. There are a lot of mixed feelings involved when a woman faces raising an unplanned child on her own. ~ Jussi Adler-Olsen

I had a very bad torn groin, my abdomen right through my legs. I was finding it really hard to get in the ring and run around and function at a decent rate. Then they had the idea that it might be better to do a retirement thing. ~ Owen Hart

In Tennessee I Found a Firefly"

Flashing in the grass; the mouth of a spider clung
to the dark of it: the legs of the spider
held the tucked wings close,
held the abdomen still in the midst of calling
with thrusts of phosphorescent light -

When I am tired of being human, I try to remember
the two stuck together like burrs. I try to place them
central in my mind where everything else must
surround them, must see the burr and the barb of them.
There is courtship, and there is hunger. I suppose
there are grips from which even angels cannot fly.
Even imagined ones. Luciferin, luciferase.
When I am tired of only touching,
I have my mouth to try to tell you
what, in your arms, is not erased. ~ Mary Szybist

One young woman's tribute describes unwrapping her cadaver's hands and being brought up short by the realization that the nails were painted pink. "The pictures in the anatomy atlas did not show nail polish", she wrote. "Did you choose the color? Did you think that I would see it? I wanted to tell you about the inside of your hands. I want you to know you are always there when I see patients. When I palpate an abdomen, yours are the organs I imagine. When I listen to a heart, I recall holding your heart. ~ Mary Roach

Dare I ask how you were received?"
"Warily, at first. Then somewhat belligerently." His eyebrow quirked. "But my reception improved markedly, once I extended the invitation to a dinner party with my aunt."
A rueful smile curved Sophia's lips. Yes, that would be her parents' reaction. They'd dine with the Devil himself, if a duchess were in attendance. "They are dreadful, aren't they?"
He shrugged. "Isn't everyone's family? I doubt your father and I will ever be great friends, but we did discover one interest in common."
"What's that?"
"You." Strong fingers cupped her chin. "We both want to see you happy. We both love you."
For a moment, Sophia did not trust herself to speak. Relief and joy swelled within her, until there was room for nothing else.
His lips brushed hers in a gentle kiss. "Am I forgiven, for not telling you first?"
Yes, yes. Forgiven, cherished, treasured, adored. Loved, beyond reason.
"I suppose," she said coyly, tracing the line of his jaw with her fingertips. "So long as you will extend me the same forgiveness."
"Why?" His eyes narrowed. "Have you been keeping secrets again?"
"Just one." Smiling, she took his hand and pressed it meaningfully against her gently rounded abdomen. "A very, very tiny one. ~ Tessa Dare

He'd told her she was his. That he was jealous and he wasn't sharing her. Where the hell had that come from?
He didn't know, but as she leaned forward and pressed her mouth to his abdomen, he knew he'd spoken the truth. He was jealous. Completely and utterly, and it twisted him up inside to realize it. ~ Lynn Raye Harris

People say that rape is not sex, that it's violence," Lucy says, bitterly. "But it's also sex. You can't get around that," she says. "he didn't run me over with a car. He had sex with me. You're not supposed to do that. You're not supposed to have sex with an eighth-grader. You're not supposed to have sex when you're in eighth grade. It was very intimate. You can't get around it. This part of the body," she says, gesturing from her heart to her lower abdomen, though I understand she means to indicate her vagina. "If you're sitting around with a group of women, talking about various traumas, someone will say, I got beaten by my mother. But if you say, I got raped, it's a different thing."
I wonder if that is true. Is rape really the worst sort of violation? I'm not sure. I often wonder why it matters whether we're penetrated or not. There is the pain, but the pain doesn't last. The shame does. (216) ~ Jessica Stern

The symptoms I thought were caused by asthma were really caused by my heart not being able to expel blood with sufficient force and then expand quickly enough to receive the next load of blood returning through the veins. This caused back pressure in the pulmonary veins and fluid would leak through their walls and accumulate in my lungs and abdomen. ~ Ray Reynolds

creamy poppy seed and she loved the strawberry-spinach salad's crunchy sweetness. She enjoyed a few bites uninterrupted, grateful she could eat at all with Byron nearby. His knee rubbed against hers and the bite of spinach stuck in her throat. She swallowed then glanced up. Their gazes met and tangled, an entire conversation passed between them, almost without her permission. The earnestness and warmth of his look was a dagger through her abdomen. How could she still love him so much? She knew who he was, what he was. He wasn't future husband material and never would be. When he was eighty he'd still be smoking hot and still have women crawling all over him. The waitress came to request their drink orders. She nodded to Marissa's request of a lemon for her water and fawned all over Byron as he ordered lemonade. "She's ~ Cami Checketts

The expression "fee thulumaatin thalaathin," translated into English
as "a threefold darkness," indicates three dark regions involved during
the development of the embryo. These are:
a) The darkness of the abdomen
b) The darkness of the womb
c) The darkness of the placenta
As we have seen, modern biology has revealed that the embryological
development of the baby takes place in the manner revealed in
the verse, in three dark regions. Moreover, advances in the science of
embryology show that these regions consist of three layers each.
The lateral abdominal wall comprises three layers: the external
oblique, the internal oblique, and transverses abdominis muscles.91
Similarly, the wall of the womb also consists of three layers: the
epimetrium, the myometrium and the endometrium.92
Similarly again, the placenta surrounding the embryo also consists
of three layers: the amnion (the internal membrane around the foetus),
the chorion (the middle amnion layer) and the decidua (outer amnion
layer.)93
It is also pointed out in this verse that a human being is created in
the mother's womb in three distinct stages.
Indeed, modern biology has also revealed that the baby's embryological
development takes place in three distinct regions in the mother's
womb. Today, in all the embryology textbooks studied in departments
of medicine, this subject is taken as an element of basic kno ~ Harun Yahya

Looking down at the Chinese officer who was trying to gather his entrails with his hands. Suriyawong had the irrational thought that the man ought really to wash his organs before jamming them back into his abdomen. It was so unsanitary. ~ Orson Scott Card

I crept into his bed and curled myself around him, resting my head against his back, wrapping my arms around his chest. I wanted to seal him to me, to fuse him to my skin, to reassure myself that he was actually mine. I pressed my lips against his back and slid my hands up under his T-shirt, pressing my hands against his flat abdomen, stroking upward to his chest. ~ Amy Harmon

A human head with the face and hair of a fifteen-year-old boy emerged form the body of the spider, and the abdomen filled out into something of a primate-like torso. The legs remained spindly and long. He thought he looked cool driving a car as a wolf spider. He did look cool, although it was difficult to control the car. It was important to him that he look cool while driving, although he would not have been able to articulate why. ~ Joseph Fink

This must be love, she murmured, in between sips of water.
What's that? He sat behind her, cradling her in his arms.
You held my hair, Professor. You must love me.
He reached a tentative hand to her lower abdomen. I seem to recall you looking after me once, when I was sick. And that was before you loved me.
I always loved you, Gabriel.
Thank you. He kissed her forehead. We made this little one together. You aren't going to scare me off with bodily fluids.
I'll remember that when my water breaks. ~ Sylvain Reynard

She was an extravagantly slender girl. Her ribs showed. The conspicuous knobs of her hipbones framed a hollowed abdomen, so flat as to belie the notion of "belly." Her exquisite bone structure immediately slipped into a novel - became in fact the secret structure of that novel, besides supporting a number of poems. ~ Vladimir Nabokov

Cassius leaned against Merrick and sighed. It felt too perfect, too right, and Merrick feared the tormenting aftermath of this spellbinding evening shared with a man he'd fantasized about almost nightly. "You feel like heaven, and I wish we could stay like this for days."
When Cassius glanced back at him, Merrick took his mouth again in a bruising kiss. His fingers glided over Cassius's chest to toy with his nipples as Cassius shuddered against him.
Merrick's hand brushed over Cassius's abdomen, and the valet moaned, burying his head against his shoulder. Merrick forked his fingers through the downy hair at his groin, his palm closing around the velvety skin of his cock, stroking the hardened shaft upward.
Cassius whimpered as his back bowed in what Merrick hoped was utter bliss. "I…have dreamed of this moment."
Merrick groaned in his ear. "Tell me more of this dream ~ Riley Hart

How to Perform Progressive Muscle Relaxation

Make sure you are wearing loose clothing and that you remove your shoes. Sit in a comfortable chair with your body fully supported.
First, tense all the muscles in the area you are targeting. Concentrate on how tight they feel. Next, relax the muscles that were just tensed. Imagine they have turned to jelly and concentrate on how limp and loose they feel. When that muscle group is completely relaxed, move on to the next area. It is recommended that you work all the major muscle groups in your body, listed as follows. When you have finished, keep your eyes closed for a few seconds, then get up slowly.

-Right foot
-Right calf and foot
-Entire right leg
-Left foot
-Left calf and foot
-Entire left leg
-Right hand
-Right forearm and hand
-Entire right arm
-Left hand
-Left forearm and hand
-Entire left arm
-Face
-Neck and shoulders
-Abdomen
-Chest ~ Heather Moehn

Modern man is rather like a bisected wasp which goes on sucking jam and pretends that the loss of its abdomen does not matter ~ George Orwell

Above the thighs in the abdomen there are two rows of five points on each side. They are henggu (K11), dahe (K12), qixue (K13), siman (K14), and zhongzhu (K15); wailing (ST26), daju (ST27), shuidao (ST28), guilai (ST29), and qichong (ST30). This is the pathway transversed by the kidney qi, therefore referred to as the thoroughfare of the kidneys. The liver, kidney, and spleen channels converge on the inside of the leg. The kidney channel counts six points on each leg, collectively called taichong, or the great thoroughfare. They consist of dazhong (K4), zhaohai (K6), fuliu (K7), jiaoxin (K8), zhubin ~ Maoshing Ni

I'm not leaving this cabin again until you've laid your egg."
Kellan snuggled up to Vic. "Our egg, remember?"
"Mmm. Our baby." Vic buried his nose in Kellan's hair. "This is all so surreal, but I couldn't be more thrilled."
They held each other in silence, the only sound being the rustle of the branches in the light wind and the crackle of the well-seasoned wood in the fireplace. Part of what Vic had said sunk in.
"Hey, Vic?"
"Yeah?"
"You can't stay here round the clock with it being so busy at the inn and everything. It's Christmas week. I've heard you say plenty of times that it gets crazy between now and New Year's Day."
Vic tightened his hold. "I don't care."
Kellan rolled his eyes. "But it's not fair to everyone else. It's bad enough that I'm not there helping as it is." He glanced up at Vic. "And what about food?" They took most of their meals at the restaurant since it was so convenient.
Vic stuck out his lower lip. "I'll make Dora deliver them to the cabin."
Kellan sighed. "Vic, you're not being reasonable."
He huffed. "Reasonable? Who cares about reasonable? My mate is about to lay an egg at any minute!"
Kellan let out a laugh, then grabbed his abdomen. It didn't hurt, but it sure as hell felt weird. Too much pressure.
Vic gasped, grabbing Kellan's upper arms then holding him back, his gaze roaming Kellan's body. "Is it time? Should you go lie down in the nest?"
This is going to be fu ~ M.M. Wilde

The "stiff, dead, retracted pelvis" is one of man's most frequent vegetative disturbances. It is responsible for lumbago as well as for hemorrhoidal disturbances. Elsewhere, we shall demonstrate an important connection between these disturbances and genital cancer in women, which is so common.
Thus, the "deadning of the pelvis" has the same function as the deadening of the abdomen, i.e., to avoid feelings, particularly those of pleasure and anxiety. ~ Wilhelm Reich

My strength comes from my abdomen. It's the center of gravity and the source of real power. ~ Bruce Lee

Feel the energy of your inner body. Immediately mental noise slows down or ceases. Feel it in your hands, your feet, your abdomen, your chest. Feel the life that you are, the life that animates the body. The body then becomes a doorway, so to speak, into a deeper sense of aliveness underneath the fluctuating emotions and underneath your thinking. ~ Eckhart Tolle

Her abdomen clenched as he thrust hard once, filling her completely. Surprising her, he didn't start thrusting, but remained still inside her as he continued kissing her.
She could kiss the sexy man for hours, be consumed by the taste and feel of him.
"Move, damn it," she gasped. She was aware the demand sounded a lot like begging. She was beyond caring. She needed more, more, more. ~ Katie Reus

Sensations of somatic distress occurring in waves lasting from twenty minutes to an hour at a time, a feeling of tightness in the throat, choking with shortness of breath, need for sighing, and an empty feeling in the abdomen, lack of muscular power, and an intense subjective distress described as tension or mental pain. Tightness in the throat. ~ Joan Didion

There's nothing worse than when someone takes a community education course and becomes an expert on how yoga is the best way to burn the visceral fat that's housed deep in your abdomen. ~ Dan John

I want you both." I said quietly, not caring that my cheeks had grown warmer. "I have for a while."
"If we try this - " Tyler took a deep breath. "And it doesn't feel right - "
"We'll stop." Kacey promised as he slid his hand beneath my halter neck and began caressing my skin. "You say it baby, and we'll stop and forget all about it."
My stomach flipped at the feel of his fingers circling my navel. "And if I don't want to stop?"
An unreadable look crossed Tyler's face and my heart skipped as Kacey moved behind me. The warmth of his body seeped into my back, while his fingers painted trails of heat across my abdomen and along my ribs.
"Then what happens in Silver Creek, stays in Silver Creek. Unless you decide otherwise." Kacey pressed his lips to my ear. A shiver ran down my neck and spine. "Does that sound fair? ~ Elizabeth Morgan

The alley and the music all fell away, and there was nothing but her and the rain and Jace, his hands on her ... He made a noise of surprise, low in his throat, and dug his fingers into the thin fabric of her tights. Not unexpectedly, they ripped, and his wet fingers were suddenly on the bare skin of her legs. Not to be outdone, Clary slid her hands under the hem of his soaked shirt, and let her fingers explore what was underneath: the tight, hot skin over his ribs, the ridges of his abdomen, the scars on his back. This was uncharted territory for her, but it seemed to be driving him crazy: he was moaning softly against her mouth, kissing her harder and harder, as if it would never be enough, not quite enough - ~ Cassandra Clare

We assert that in all mammals the center of primal, constructive consciousness and activity lies in the middle front of the abdomen, beneath the navel, in the great nerve center called the solar plexus. How do we know? We feel it, as we feel hunger or love or hate. ~ D.H. Lawrence

Livy." His voice deepened to nearly guttural. Desire unfurled in her abdomen. Then reality slammed her in the face.
"Are you glamoring me?" she asked, anger rippling along her skin.
His eyebrows drew down. "Glamoring?"
"Yeah. What vampires do." She put her hands on her hips. "Making me want you."
He chuckled again. "Oh, you want me, and it's all you. There's no such thing as glamoring."
Truth. She opened her senses, and he was definitely telling the truth. "Oh. ~ Rebecca Zanetti

The disease then seized upon his whole body and distracted it by various torments. For he had a slow fever, and the itching of the skin of his whole body was insupportable. He suffered also from continuous pains in his colon, and there were swellings on his feet like those of a person suffering from dropsy, while his abdomen was inflamed and his privy member so putrefied as to produce worms. Besides this he could breathe only in an upright posture, and then only with difficulty, and he had convulsions in all his limbs, so that the diviners said that his diseases were a punishment. ~ Eusebius

So, I see we meet again." He offered a smile. Although he could clearly see from her rounded abdomen that she was expecting a baby, he couldn't keep from noticing once again that she was a lovely woman. "I have to say, we didn't officially meet," he continued, trying to put her at ease. "Unless of course you go by the title Frau Maple Syrup." "I'm Frau Werner. Annalisa Werner." "And I'm Carl Richards." He put his arm to his waist and bowed as if he were the grand duke and she a duchess. "I'm Gretchen." Annalisa's daughter let go of her oma and turned to him. "Ah, I was expecting something like Raindrop." He turned to the little girl and bowed to her. "But I like Gretchen much better. It's a lovely name for a princess. ~ Jody Hedlund

But criticism, for the most part, comes from the opposite place that book-enjoying should come from. To enjoy art one needs time, patience, and a generous heart, and criticism is done, by and large, by impatient people who have axes to grind. The worst sort of critics are (analogy coming) butterfly collectors - they chase something, ostensibly out of their search for beauty, then, once they get close, they catch that beautiful something, they kill it, they stick a pin through its abdomen, dissect it and label it. The whole process, I find, is not a happy or healthy one. Someone with his or her own shit figured out, without any emotional problems or bitterness or envy, instead of killing that which he loves, will simply let the goddamn butterfly fly, and instead of capturing and killing it and sticking it in a box, will simply point to it - "Hey everyone, look at that beautiful thing" - hoping everyone else will see the beautiful thing he has seen. Just as no one wants to grow up to be an IRS agent, no one should want to grow up to maliciously dissect books. ~ Dave Eggers

Do not be ashamed of your most beautiful body, ma petite," he said, placing a hand flat on her abdomen. "Me? I would be proud. For you have given life! This strong female flesh has carried and born children. Such scars, wrinkles and imperfections were honorably earned. You are a mature woman, with many life experiences. ~ Nikki Sex

the squares on your abdomen have been reabsorbed, like tiny islands in a rising sea of lard. ~ Junot Diaz

It is a common belief that we breathe with our lungs alone, but in point of fact, the work of breathing is done by the whole body. The lungs play a passive role in the respiratory process. Their expansion is produced by an enlargement, mostly downward, of the thoracic cavity and they collapse when that cavity is reduced. Proper breathing involves the muscles of the head, neck, thorax, and abdomen. It can be shown that chronic tension in any part of the body's musculature interferes with the natural respiratory movements.
Breathing is a rhythmic activity. Normally a person at rest makes approximately 16 to 17 respiratory incursions a minute. The rate is higher in infants and in states of excitation. It is lower in sleep and in depressed persons. The depth of the respiratory wave is another factor which varies with emotional states. Breathing becomes shallow when we are frightened or anxious. It deepens with relaxation, pleasure and sleep. But above all, it is the quality of the respiratory movements that determines whether breathing is pleasurable or not. With each breath a wave can be seen to ascend and descend through the body. The inspiratory wave begins deep in the abdomen with a backward movement of the pelvis. This allows the belly to expand outward. The wave then moves upward as the rest of the body expands. The head moves very slightly forward to suck in the air while the nostrils dilate or the mouth opens. The expiratory wave begins in the upper part of the body ~ Alexander Lowen

Those tingles she'd felt in her abdomen spread lower. Her body recognised her lover's voice, wanted him. ~ Starla Kaye

JJ glared at his slumbering frame. Long legs, lethal in denim, his button fly already enticingly popped, abdomen all ridged and naked, begging for a finger or a tongue to discover the hills and valleys, dark shaggy hair spread around his head like a freaking halo on her pillow.
Well too damn bad for this broken-down angel. She was the one who'd worked her ass off until two am. Not him.
And she wanted her bed back. ~ Amy Andrews

His mouth is parted, and the sheets are kicked off. One of his hands rests on his stomach. His shirt has hiked up, and I can see his abdomen. My gaze is transfixed.

Holy crap. I just slept with St. Clair. ~ Stephanie Perkins

If I am to believe everything that I see in the media, happiness is to be six foot tall or more and to have bleached teeth and a firm abdomen, all the latest clothes, accessories, and electronics, a picture-perfect partner of the opposite sex who is both a great lover and a terrific friend, an assortment of healthy and happy children, a pet that is neither a stray nor a mongrel, a large house in the right sort of postcode, a second property in an idyllic holiday location, a top-of-the-range car to shuttle back and forth from the one to the other, a clique of 'friends' with whom to have fabulous dinner parties, three or four foreign holidays a year, and a high-impact job that does not distract from any of the above. There are at least three major problems that I can see with this ideal of happiness. (1) It represents a state of affairs that is impossible to attain to and that is in itself an important source of unhappiness. (2) It is situated in an idealised and hypothetical future rather than in an imperfect but actual present in which true happiness is much more likely to be found, albeit with great difficulty. (3) It has largely been defined by commercial interests that have absolutely nothing to do with true happiness, which has far more to do with the practice of reason and the peace of mind that this eventually brings. In short, it is not only that the bar for happiness is set too high, but also that it is set in the wrong place, and that it is, in fact, the wrong bar. J ~ Neel Burton

I catch a glimpse of his abdomen. Yummy. "Yummy tummy."
He startles. "What?"
"Hmm? ~ Stephanie Perkins

And then there she was, a girl of elegant height, perhaps eighteen or nineteen years of age - gawky and coltish, all long legs and arms, but with the promise of stunning beauty to add graceful curves to the lean lines of her body. She was dressed in a pair of my blue jeans, cut off at the tops of her muscled thighs, and my own T-shirt, tied off over her abdomen. A pentacle amulet, identical to my own, if less battered, lay over her heart, between the curves of her modest breasts. Her skin was pale, almost luminous, her hair a shade of brown-gold, like ripe wheat, her eyes a startling, storm-cloud grey in contrast. Her smile lit up her face, ~ Jim Butcher

Warmth pooled in her belly, and spiraled through her body. Her breasts, her abdomen, her knees. Her knees? She'd never really had an orgasm in her knees before. ~ Meg Benjamin

She wanted to know what his body would feel like under her hands. Her palms slid, almost as if under someone else's control, under his jacket until she embraced his waist. His jacket, now parted on either side of her, left only a thin shirt and her dress between her belly and the ridges she felt across his abdomen. She was right about what she'd imagined under his suit. ~ Elizabeth SaFleur

I feel shock splinter through him, his body going rigid. Then he relaxes, melting into me, stepping forward until I am caught between him and the wall, the torch crackling beside me. His hands slide down my back, over my hips and thighs, leaving a trail of fire. His heart beats fast enough for the both of us, its thunderous pulse echoing through me.
I bury my hands in his dark hair, fingers knotting around those thick locks. Desire pulls at my stomach, and I lean into him, lifting one leg and wrapping it around his waist. He lifts me, and my other leg coils around him, my skirts sliding up my thighs, my back pressed against the column.
His lips are soft and warm and gentle, underlined with barely restrained urgency. I cannot get enough of him. I pull his kurta over his head and let it fall on the floor. I press my hands against his bared chest, feel his heart against my palm, his lungs rising and falling. His shoulder is knotted with the scar from the arrow he took for me. He kisses me again, this time more strongly, and I run my hands down his jaw and neck, over his shoulders, the taut muscles of his back.
He turns, without letting me go or breaking our kiss, and we tumble onto the soft divan. Aladdin holds himself over me, his abdomen clenched and his hair hanging across his forehead. His lips wander downward, to my chin, to the curve of my jaw, to my neck.
My hands are ravenous, exploring the planes and angles of his body. His fingers find mine, and our ~ Jessica Khoury

First the shirt. His chest was so sculpted and beautiful. I could see all the tiny lines chiseled into his abdomen. If he looked this good in the window reflection, I couldn't even imagine how insanely gorgeous he was going to be when I looked directly at him. Next ~ Vi Keeland

Having shaved, washed, and dexterously arranged several artificial teeth, standing in front of the mirror, he moistened his silver-mounted brushes and plastered the remains of his thick pearly hair on his swarthy yellow skull. He drew on to his strong old body, with its abdomen protuberant from excessive good living, his cream-colored silk underwear, put black silk socks and patent-leather slippers on his flat-footed feet. He put sleeve-links in the shining cuffs of his snow-white shirt, and bending forward so that his shirt front bulged out, he arranged his trousers that were pulled up high by his silk braces, and began to torture himself, putting his collar-stud through the stiff collar. The floor was still rocking beneath him, the tips of his fingers hurt, the stud at moments pinched the flabby skin in the recess under his Adam's apple, but he persisted, and at last, with eyes all strained and face dove-blue from the over-tight collar that enclosed his throat, he finished the business and sat down exhausted in front of the pier glass, which reflected the whole of him, and repeated him in all the other mirrors.

" It is awful ! " he muttered, dropping his strong, bald head, but without trying to understand or to know what was awful. Then, with habitual careful attention examining his gouty-jointed short fingers and large, convex, almond-shaped finger-nails, he repeated : " It is awful. . . . ~ Ivan Alekseyevich Bunin

There is no good word for stomach; just as there is no good word for girlfriend. Stomach is to girlfriend as belly is to lover, and as abdomen is to consort, and as middle is to petite amie. ~ Nicholson Baker

The men digging in on both sides of me cursed the stench and the mud. I began moving the heavy, sticky clay mud with my entrenching shovel to shape out the extent of the foxhole before digging deeper. Each shovelful had to be knocked off the spade, because it stuck like glue. I was thoroughly exhausted and thought my strength wouldn't last from one sticky shovelful to the next.
Kneeling on the mud, I had dug the hole no more than six or eight inches deep when the odor of rotting flesh got worse. There was nothing to do but continue to dig, so I closed up my mouth and inhaled with short shallow breaths. Another spadeful of soil out of the hole released a mass of wriggling maggots that came welling up as though those beneath were pushing them out. I cursed and told the NCO as he came by what a mess I was digging into.
'You heard him, he said put the holes five yards apart.'
In disgust, I drove the spade into the soil, scooped out the insects, and threw them down the front of the ridge. The next stroke of the spade unearthed buttons and scraps of cloth from a Japanese army jacket in the mud - and another mass of maggots. I kept on doggedly. With the next thrust, metal hit the breastbone of a rotting Japanese corpse. I gazed down in horror and disbelief as the metal scraped a clean track through the mud along the dirty whitish bone and cartilage with ribs attached. The shoved skidded into the rotting abdomen with a squishing sound. The odor nearly overwhelmed me as ~ Eugene B. Sledge

A gray V-neck T-shirt hugged his wide shoulders and broad chest, then hung loose over his tight abdomen. a pair of worn Levi's lovingly cupped his generous package, embraced long legs, and broke across the tops of well-worn cowboy boots. Jackson had the type of physique that made a woman's girl parts tingle. She'd have to be dead not to include herself in that party. Especially since her girl parts had been told "No" way too many time sin recent years. ~ Candis Terry

While the repression of a memory is a psychological process, the suppression of feeling is accomplished by deadening a part of the body or reducing its motility so that feeling is diminished. The repression of the memory is dependent upon and related to the suppression of feeling, for as long as the feeling persists, the memory remains vivid. Suppression entails the development of chronic muscular tension in those areas of the body where the feeling would be experienced. In the case of sexual feeling, this tension is found in and about the abdomen and pelvis ~ Alexander Lowen

Of all the named structures within the abdomen and the chest, those associated with reproduction retained the mysteries of their willful behavior long after others had been solved to the satisfaction of physicians and philosophers. ~ Sherwin B. Nuland

Who claims I am ruined ? Because I am without fangs & claws ?
Are they necessary ? How do you forget the knife
plunged in abdomen up to the hilt ? Green Cardamom leaves for the buck, art of hatred & anger
and of war ! ~ Malay Roy Choudhury

Merrill Hartweiss scales a rocky incline toward Renna. The noon sun bakes the hillside as Merrill's boots dig into the broiling sands. Yet another gypsy tune enters his head. It starts off slowly. A lone guitar, its strings strummed with the lustful passion of a young man brushing his fingertips softly against the breasts of his lover. Another guitar joins, like a second hand, exploring her hot flesh, stroking the side of her bare abdomen, and gradually moving upward toward her chest. Then, a female voice joins the guitars; it is slightly raspy, yet sultry; filled with a fiery allure. The guitars pick up in intensity and tempo. There is a rhythmic clapping now, in synchronization with the strumming. The man has entered his lover.

Sweat begins to form on Merrill's forehead, then quickly turns to vapor, dissipating into the blistering heat from the sunlight reflecting off the sands. Steady clapping, louder still. The tempo quickens, progressively and with a vigorous intensity. The man arches his back, cresting then falling; cresting, arching, rising and falling deeper again and again into his lover. The clapping, now faster, still rhythmic, but so much more intense. The guitars keep pace with increasing ferocity. In the woman's voice, short, quick breaths form words as she cries out her lover's name from deep within the throes of a forbidden love ~ Angel Rosa

One of the differences between now and then is that the idea of body image is a much bigger issue now. Back then, just being kind of heavy and barrel-chested passed for heroic. Now, you wouldn't dare to play a hero without a lot of dieting and various specialised abdomen machines. But that was one of the things which was interesting about it and I did want to portray because there's good and bad. ~ Ben Affleck

How do you know if your child is a writer? Your obstetrician holds his stethoscope to your abdomen and only hears excuses. ~ Fran Lebowitz

Ever since that first day on the beach, I haven't been able to stop thinking about you." A burst of warmth breaks free low in my abdomen. "And then later," he continues, "when you were in the pool, drifting just out of reach." His fingers dance along my hip toward my back, setting me on fire from the outside in.
I press my palms flat against the door behind me, needing to feel something but afraid to reach for him. His head drops lower and for a moment I think he's about to finally kiss me. But instead he shifts, bringing his lips slowly to my ear. "Do you know how many times I've imagined what would have happened if I'd just gone in after you? ~ Carrie Ryan

Arms wrapped around [Darcy's] abdomen from the back. Fingers felt for the spot above his navel. Two fists pushed in and upward. Darcy felt a violent squeezing sensation. The offending prawn shot out of his gullet, flew across the table, and knocked Tate's wine glass over...Tate looked down at the partially chewed shrimp in disgust and covered it with his napkin. ~ Donna Warner & Gloria Ferris

She lives between the Vale of Kashmir & nirvana, beneath a bipolar sky. The voice speaks of an atlas & a mask, a map of Punjab, an ugly scar from college days on her abdomen, the unsaid credo, but I still can't make the voice say, Look, I'm sorry. I've been dead for a long time. ~ Yusef Komunyakaa

She swung her legs around his waist and crossed her ankles behind his back. "I like the way your mind works," she panted before losing herself in the sensation of his hardness rubbing against her core. Lief took the few steps across the room to the bed in record time and flung her down on the covers. He leaned back to tear his clothes off. "My mind hardly works at all when you are near." She chuckled leaning back on her elbows, enjoying the view of naked flesh being revealed. She rose up on her knees and traced the ridges on his chest and abdomen. As her fingers trailed down toward his proud shaft, he captured her wrists.

"Be careful." He smiled down at her. "I'm loaded and might go off any minute."

She laughed. "You've been watching too many old Western movies with Harold. ~ Asa Maria Bradley

Gator, go wake that woman of yours. I need some answers. We need her to run the computers for us."
"Tonight, Boss?" Gator complained. "I had other ideas." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.
"We all did. Hop to it."
"What about Sam?" Tucker asked. "His woman is the one who got us into this."
"I'm wounded." Sam clutched his abdomen dramatically and staggered with quick, long strides so that he made it to the doorway in three quick steps.
Jonas coughed, sounding suspiciously like he'd muttered "bullshit" under his breath. Kyle threw a peanut at him and Jeff surfed across the table in his bare socks to try to catch him before he bolted.
"He's in love, boys, let him go. He'll probably just get laughed at," Tucker said. "Do you really think Azami's brothers are going to allow her to hook up with Sam? She's fine and he's . . . well . . . klutzy."
"That hurt," Sam said, turning back.
"Did you get a good look at those boys? I thought Japanese men were supposed to be on the short side, but Daiki was tall and all muscle. His brother moves like a fucking fighter," Tucker added. "They might just decide to give you a good beating for having the audacity to even think you could date their sister, let alone marry her."
"Fat help you are," Sam accused. "I could use a little confidence here."
Kyle snorted. "You don't have a chance, buddy."
"Goin' to meet your maker," Gator added solemnly.
Jeff crossed himself as he hung five toes ~ Christine Feehan

The blades touched my abdomen. A cold shock ran through me, and my head began to spin. If he had pressed just a bit harder, the scissors might have pierced my soft belly. The skin would have peeled back, the fat beneath laid bare. Blood would have dripped on the bedspread. ~ Yoko Ogawa

There was no doubt what must be done - the law was clear. Written centuries ago, the Lex Caesare decreed that if any woman died while pregnant, the living child was to be immediately cut out of her abdomen. This poor girl, whose name no one knew, was certain to die; but the baby inside her lived and must be given a chance to survive. Selene was fearful. She had never before performed a Caesarean-law operation. ~ Barbara Wood

You are quarter ghost on your mother's side.
Your heart is a flayed peach in a bone box.
Your hair comes away in clumps like cheap fabric wet.
A reflecting pool gathers around your altar
of plywood sub flooring and split wooden slats.
You are rag doll prone. You are contort,
angle and arc. Here you rot. Here
you are a greening abdomen, slipping skin,
flesh fly, carrion beetles.
This is where bullets take shelter,
where scythes find their function, breath loses
its place on the page. This is where the page is torn
out of every book before chapter's close,
this is slippage, this is a shroud of neglect
pulled over the body, this
is your chance to escape.
Little wraith,
bend light around your skin until it colors you clear,
disappear like silica in a kiln, become
glass and glass beads, become
the staggered whir of an exhaust fan:
something only noticed
when gone. Become
an origami swan. Fold yourself smaller
than ever before. Become less. More
in some ways but less
in the way a famine is less. They will
forgive you for not being satisfied
with fitting in their hands.
They will forgive you
for dying to be
a bird diminutive enough
to fit in a mouth and not be crushed. ~ Jamaal May

I was still walking behind Mrs. Haze through the dining room when, beyond it, there came a sudden burst of greenery – "the piazza," sang out my leader, and then, without the least warning, a blue sea-wave swelled under my heart and, from a mat in a pool of sun, half-naked, kneeling, turning about on her knees, there was my Riviera love peering at me over dark glasses.

It was the same child-the same frail, honey-hued shoulders, the same silky supple bare back, the same chestnut head of hair. A polka-dotted black kerchief tied around her chest hid from my aging ape eyes, but not from the gaze of young memory, the juvenile breasts I had fondled one immortal day. And, as if I were the fairy-tale nurse of some little princess (lost, kidnapped, discovered in gypsy rags through which her nakedness smiled at the king and his hounds), I recognized the tiny dark-brown mole on her side. With awe and delight (the king crying for joy, the trumpets blaring, the nurse drunk) I saw again her lovely indrawn abdomen where my southbound mouth had briefly paused; and those puerile hips on which I had kissed the crenulated imprint left by the band of her shorts – that last mad immortal day behind the "Roches Roses." The twenty-five years I had lived since then, tapered to a palpitating point, and vanished. ~ Vladimir Nabokov

You okay?" he says, touching my cheek. His hand cradles the side of my head, his long fingers slipping through my hair. He smiles and holds my head in place as he kisses me. Heat spreads through me slowly.And fear, buzzing like an alarm in my chest.
His lips still on mine,he pushes the jacket from my shoulders.I flinch when I hear it drop,and push him back,my eyes burning. I don't know why I feel this way. I didn't feel like this when he kissed me on the train.I press my palms to my face,covering my eyes.
"What? What's wrong?"
I shake my head.
"Don't tell me it's nothing." His voice is cold.He grabs my arm. "Hey. Look at me."
I take my hands from my face and lift my eyes to his.The hurt in his eyes and the anger in his clenched jaw surprise me.
"Sometimes I wonder," I say,as calmly as I can, "what's in it for you. This...whatever it is."
"What's in it for me," he repeats. He steps back,shaking his head. "You're an idiot,Tris."
"I am not an idiot," I say. "Which is why I know that it's a little weird that,of all the girls you could have chosen,you chose me.So if you're just looking for...um,you know...that..."
"What? Sex?" He scowls at me. "You know, if that was all I wanted, you probably wouldn't be the first person I would go to."
I feel like he just punched me in the stomach. Of course I'm not the first person he would go to-not the first, not the prettiest,not desirable. I press my hands to my abdomen and look away, fightin ~ Veronica Roth

Having made a sufficient opening to admit my finger into the abdomen, I passed it between the intestines to the spine, and felt the aorta greatly enlarged, and beating with excessive force. By means of my finger nail, I scratched through the peritoneum on the left side of the aorta, and then gradually passed my finger between the aorta and the spine, and again penetrated the peritoneum, on the right side of the aorta. I had now my finger under the artery, and by its side I conveyed the blunt aneurismal needle, armed with a single ligature behind it ... ~ Astley Cooper

May walked slowly around the body, studying it. Putrefaction had been halted in its advance, but the corpse's skin had turned green and black, producing an acrid odour. He found it hard to imagine that this man had recently been walking around, eating in restaurants, watching TV. He was someone's lover, someone's son, but there was almost nothing human left. Without a head his trunk bore an unsettling similarity to something you would find in a meat locker. How would his loved ones feel if they could see him like this? 'Get anything else?' 'It's tricky because the usual decay process has been interrupted by the relatively sterile storage of the body. Usually, after two to three days you get staining on the abdomen. The discolouration spreads, veins grow dark, the skin blisters after a week, tissue starts softening and nails fall off at around the three-week stage, and finally the face becomes unrecognisable as the skin liquefies - ~ Christopher Fowler

She screamed. Not a normal scream of pain, but a deep and blind cry as reason deserted her. Of all the screams cataloged in the encyclopedic audio library of the Hidden Schools, Tara's bore the closest resemblance to the scream of a man whose abdomen was being devoured by a jagged-clawed insect that wore a child's face. ~ Max Gladstone

You cannot explain, with the limitations of language and inexperience, why your body can cause such a sudden, fumbling response in someone else, nor can you put into exact words what you feel about your body, explain the thrum it feels in proximity to another warm-skinned form. What you feel is a tangle of contradictions: power, pleasure, fear, shame, exultation, some strange wish to make noise. You cannot say how those things knit themselves together somewhere in the lower abdomen and pulse. ~ Marya Hornbacher

Kylie watched as his shirttail upward, exposing a very hard abdomen. The hem of his shirt inched higher, and she took in the cutest inny belly button she'd ever seen. And then his chest. Solid. Hard. A few drops of water glistened against his skin. Hear heart beat to the sound of passion again. ~ C.C. Hunter

You are real," she said to herself.

"Aye." His voice was deep and resonant, a caress in her ears. But then it cracked, as if he were in pain. "And you are with young."

"I am."

He closed his eyes again, but now it was as if he'd been struck by a body blow. "I saw you."

"When?"

"At the clinic. Nights and nights ago. I thought they had beaten you."

"The Brotherhood? Why ever - "

"Because of me." His eyes opened, and there was such anguish in them, she wanted to comfort him in some way. "I would never have chosen for you to be in this position. You are not of the war, and my lieutenant should never, ever have brought you into it." His voice grew deeper and deeper. "You are an innocent. Even I, who have no honor, recognized that instantly."

If he had no honor, why had he disarmed himself just now, she thought.

"Are you mated?" he said roughly.

"No."

Abruptly, his upper lip peeled back from tremendous fangs. "If you were raped - "

"No. No, no - I chose this for myself. For the male." Her hand went to her abdomen. "I wanted a young. My needing came, and all I could think of was how much I wanted to be a mahmen to something that was mine."
Those narrowed eyes closed again, and he brought up a callused hand to his face. Hiding his irregular mouth, he said, "I wish that I..."

"What?"

"...I were worthy to have given you what you d ~ J.R. Ward

So, if you're a doctor, how can you recognize that you're having a feeling? Some tips from Dr. Zinn:
Most emotions have physical counterparts. Anxiety may be associated with a tightness of the abdomen or excessive diaphoresis; anger may be manifested by a generalized muscle tightness or a clenching of the jaw; sexual arousal may be noted by a tingling of the loins or piloerection; and sadness may be felt by conjunctival injection or heaviness of the chest. ~ Anne Fadiman

Ten Best Song to Strip
1. Any hip-swiveling R&B fuckjam. This category includes The Greatest Stripping Song of All Time: "Remix to Ignition" by R. Kelly.

2. "Purple Rain" by Prince, but you have to be really theatrical about it. Arch your back like Prince himself is daubing body glitter on your abdomen. Most effective in nearly empty, pathos-ridden juice bars.

3. "Honky Tonk Woman" by the Rolling Stones. Insta-attitude. Makes even the clumsiest troglodyte strut like Anita Pallenberg. (However, the Troggs will make you look like even more of a troglodyte, so avoid if possible.)

4. "Pour Some Sugar on Me" by Def Leppard. The Lep's shouted choruses and relentless programmed drums prove ideal for chicks who can really stomp. (Coincidence: I once saw a stripper who, like Rick Allen, had only one arm.)

5. "Amber" by 311. This fluid stoner anthem is a favorite of midnight tokers at strip joints everywhere. Mellow enough that even the most shitfaced dancer can make it through the song and back to her Graffix bong without breaking a sweat. Pass the Fritos Scoops, dude.

6. "Miserable" by Lit, but mostly because Pamela Anderson is in the video, and she's like Jesus for strippers (blonde, plastic, capable of parlaying a broken nail into a domestic battery charge, damaged liver). Alos, you can't go wrong stripping to a song that opens with the line "You make me come."

7. "Back Door Man" by The Doors. Almost too eas ~ Diablo Cody

I think you look... delicious!" Her hand traveled further down my abdomen until she brushed my cock with her fingers.

"Delicious, huh? That's a new one. I was thinking virile, or the male personification of perfection. ~ C.J. Roberts

When our laws tell people that what lies behind the thin wall of a women's abdomen during pregnancy is not a human being and that the destiny of a preborn child lies with the private conscience of the mother, we are essentially telling society that life itself is not important enough to be called an inalienable right. If life itself is not the most fundamental of all rights, then what is? ~ Bob Dornan

The pillow mashed into her abdomen like a ten-kilo sandbag, filling her mouth with the taste of stomach acid. ~ James S.A. Corey