Bone Crushing Trampling Quotes

It is possible to tell things by a handshake. I like the "looking in the eye" syndrome. It conveys interest. I like the firm, though not bone crushing shake. The bone crusher is trying too hard to "macho it." The clammy or diffident handshake - fairly or unfairly - get me off to a bad start with a person. ~ George H. W. Bush

It was heartfelt, it was heartbreaking. It was extreme joy, it was bone-crushing grief. It was fiery hot, it was icy-cold. It was true love sprouting ... it was true love dying.
It's like we were both trying to hold onto something that was slipping through our fingers, and we didn't understand why. ~ S.C. Stephens

She was rotten to the heart. Lust of conquest had long ago done its work. Trampling upon the helpless abroad had taught her, by a natural process, to endure with apathy the like at home; multitudes who had applauded the crushing of other people's liberties, lived to suffer for their mistake in their own persons. The government was irrevocably in the hands of the prodigiously rich and their hangers-on, the suffrage was become a mere machine, which they used as they chose. There was no principle but commercialism, no patriotism but of the pocket. ~ Stephen Kinzer

Oh to break loose like the chinook
salmon jumping and falling back,
nosing up to the impossible
stone and bone-crushing waterfall ...
Time to grub up and junk the year's
output, a dead wood of dry verse:
dim confession, coy revelation,
liftings, listless self-imitation,
whole days when I could hardly speak,
came pluming home unshaven, weak
and willing to read anyone
things done before and better done ... ~ Robert Lowell

The migraine is a beast from Hell, a bone-crushing, brain-twisting, heart-rending, apocalyptic scourge - an insult to all that's holy. ~ Diane Stafford

Thanks to my ridiculous, sometimes tragic, and always unsteady upbringing, I was given the gift of bone-crushing insecurity. One thing you'll notice about people with mental problems is constant self-absorbation. I think that's because it's such a struggle just to be who they are, so they have a hard time getting past it. ~ Mark Oliver

A person frequently writes in order to escape madness and crushing despondency by culling moral lesson and healing growth serum from personal experiences. Akin to riders on a storm, and a dog without a bone, we only come to understand our limits by enduring suffering. Only by deliberately confronting the essential facts of life does a person come to understand humanity. Without suffering the full brunt of love, sorrow, pain, illness, death, and accepting the relentless march of time a person never comes to know anything at all regarding the wonderful mystery of life. ~ Kilroy J. Oldster

Every time he moved, with every breath he took, it seemed the man was carried along by iridescent orange and black wings.

She tried to convey how it was like travelling through the inside of a living body at times, the joints and folds of the earth, the liver-smooth flowstone, the helictites threading upward like synapses in search of a connection. She found it beautiful. Surely God would not have invented such a place as His spiritual gulag.

It took Ali's breath away. Sometimes, once men found out she was a nun, they would dare her in some way. What made Ike different was his abandon. He had a carelessness in his manner that was not reckless, but was full of risk. Winged. He was pursuing her, but not faster than she was pursuing him, and it made them like two ghosts circling.

She ran her fingers along his back, and the bone and the muscle and hadal ink and scar tissue and the callouses from his pack straps astonished her. This was the body of a slave.

Down from the Egypt, eye of the sun, in front of the Sinai, away from their skies like a sea inside out, their stars and planets spearing your soul, their cities like insects, all shell and mechanism, their blindness with eyes, their vertiginous plains and mind-crushing mountains. Down from the billions who had made the world in their own image. Their signature could be a thing of beauty. But it was a thing of death.

Ali got one good look, then closed her eyes to the heat. ~ Jeff Long

The boys asked themselves, naturally, if they could kill someone. Geraint had been brought up on tales of knights-at-arms and Icelandic warriors, but he did not imagine blood. Charles had disappointed his father by taking no pleasure in foxhunting or shooting. He rather thought he could not. Philip was not really listening to the conversation. He was looking at the juxtaposition of textures in the grass, the flowers, and the silks, and the very rapid colour changes that were taking place as the sky darkened. Browning and vanishing of red, efflorescence and deepening of blues. Tom imagines the thud and suck of a bomb, the flying stone and mortar, and could not quite imagine the crushing or burning of flesh. He thought of his own skull and his own ribs. Bone under skin and tendons. No one was safe ~ A.S. Byatt

You know the proverb, Mr. Hale, 'set a beggar on horseback, and he'll ride to the devil' - well, some of these early manufacturers did ride to the devil in a magnificent style - crushing human bone and flesh beneath their horses' hoofs without remorse. ~ Elizabeth Gaskell

I have no idea what to do, and everything is starting to feel dangerously hopeless. Hopelessness is not an emotion to be indulged. On the heels of hopelessness comes defeat, and even though everything seems pointless and impossible, I still want to win. Underneath my confusion and utter, bone-crushing fatigue, even though I don't know much of anything at all, I still know I want to win. ~ Carolyn Lee Adams

Protect your hands! Some fans demonstrate their enthusiam with bone-crushing hand shakes. My former teacher Julian Bream often bows Japanese style with his hands behind his back. Smart man ! ... ~ Liona Boyd

He captured her wrists and pinned them to the tree before covering her mouth with his.
This was no gentle kiss, but one filled with hunger long denied, lips crushing, tongue sliding deep, as if he couldn't get enough of the taste of her. ~ M.J. Fredrick

I hadn't actually come out and asked him to pick us up, so when he said, "All right, give me twenty minutes, I gotta go dig out my old crutches," I knew with every last drop of blood and every bone in my body that Mike was at least related to Jesus. ~ Jennifer Gooch Hummer

I could not see the unholy creature, but I could feel the bone-aching chill of its presence, and I heard the howl of its mindless hate. I quailed to think of the power that had called it into being and loosed it on the world. ~ Stephen R. Lawhead

Scared?"
Terrified. "Of you? Nah. If you grow claws, I might get my sword, but I've fought you in your human shape." It took all my will to shrug. "You aren't that impressive."
He cleared the distance between us in a single leap. I barely had time to jump to my feet. Steel fingers grasped my left wrist. His left arm clasped my waist. I fought, but he outmuscled me with ridiculous ease, pulling me close as if to tango.
"Curran! Let . . . "
I recognized the angle of his hip but I could do nothing about it. He pulled me forward and flipped me in a classic hip-toss throw. Textbook perfect. I flew through the air, guided by his hands, and landed on my back. The air burst from my lungs in a startled gasp. Ow.
"Impressed yet?" he asked with a big smile.
Playing. He was playing. Not a real fight. He could've slammed me down hard enough to break my neck. Instead he had held me to the end, to make sure I landed right.
He leaned forward a little. "Big bad merc, down with a basic hip toss. In your place I'd be blushing."
I gasped, trying to draw air into my lungs.
"I could kill you right now. It wouldn't take much. I think I'm actually embarrassed on your behalf. At least do some magic or something."
As you wish. I gasped and spat my new power word. "Osanda." Kneel, Your Majesty.
He grunted like a man trying to lift a crushing weight that fell on his shoulders. His face shook with strain. Ha-ha. He wasn't the only one who got a boost ~ Ilona Andrews

i don't blame you for not knowing how to remain soft with me. sometimes i stay up thinking of all the places you are hurting which you'll never care to mention. i come from the same aching blood. from the same bone so desperate for attention i collapse in on myself. i am your daughter. i know the small talk is the only way you know how to tell me you love me. cause it is the only way i know how to tell you. ~ Rupi Kaur

John Galt spent years looking for it. He crossed oceans, and he crossed deserts, and he went down into forgotten mines, miles under the earth. But he found it on the top of a mountain. It took him ten years to climb that mountain. It broke every bone in his body, it tore the skin off his hands, it made him lose his home, his name, his love. But he climbed it. He found the fountain of youth, which he wanted to bring down to men.Only he never came back. ~ Ayn Rand

Flesh and bone and blood no longer are my makeup. I'm stacks of naught, packed into my being at the molecular level. My skin, my muscles, my organs, my cunt - cells of non-existence, masquerading as bits of human. Touch me, I'll feel nothing. Bruise me, fuck me, love me - nothing, nothing, nothing.
Everything within me has been altered and adapted.
There's nothing real anymore. Nothing solid. Nothing worthy.
Only pieces of limbo. Only nihilism. Only nothing.
Nothing wrapped securely around my core, an impenetrable seal.
Nothing jammed in all my spaces, crammed in tight, protecting the last embers of a once-blazing heart. I'm barely aware of its beat anymorethrough the layers of vacuity, barely feel the steadiness of its pulse. ~ Laurelin Paige

The wife Estelle's stone sinks to the right. The dead here seem really dead, and bone lonely, unlike the graves in Italian cemeteries, bedecked with fresh flowers, red votive lights, and photos of the deceased. ~ Frances Mayes

It's close to Christmas."
"Oh yeah? I thought everyone was just crushing on an old dude with stellar beard ~ Anyta Sunday

at Thanksgiving and all? They make a wish, rip it apart and laugh because some idiot gets more of the dead thing's bone than someone else. It's just really stupid, if you ask me. All these nice parents who've got kids and tell them to be nice and then get their kicks ripping bones apart. Sick bastards. I ~ Lauren J. Woodhouse

I have tamed a land created to wither humans away until they are polished bone. Do not think to defy me. ~ R.F. Kuang

It was the time of year, the time of day, for a small insistent sadness to pass into the texture of things. Dusk, silence, iron chill. Something lonely in the bone. ~ Don DeLillo

Katherine Bone is an author after my own heart! DUKE BY DAY, ROGUE BY NIGHT is a sexy, adventurous romp guaranteed to keep you reading into the wee hours of the night." Shana Galen, author of WHEN YOU GIVE A DUKE A DIAMOND ~ Katherine Bone

In other words, I'd say the whole story of Bob Dylan is one man's search for God. The turns and the steps he takes to find God are his business. I think he went to a study group at the Vineyard, and it created a lot of excitement. ~ T Bone Burnett

If he gave me a knife, he thought I'd need it. And not for digging up roots and hacking tree bark, either. Know its purpose, indeed. "It fits my hand," I said, looking down and stroking the small groove that fit my thumb. "How did you know to make it so exactly?" He laughed at that. "I've had your hand round my cock often enough to know the measure of your grip, Sassenach, ~ An Echo In The Bone.

Autumn comes
like a buyer of cloth,
her long fingers
touching,
turning orange,
yellow, brown.

taking what she wants,
stretching
the bone taut air.

Her skin crackles beneath
our feet.

I didn't think anyone wanted me,

bruises pulled
like a sweater around
my neck.

We talk
in the pore tightening air,
branches bare,
about the girl buried in the chill
of prewinter.

We show each other
our mutilated children
in the guise of women
as autumn plucks
at our lips.

Each color,
blue, black, ochre
popping like kisses
on the rib lined flesh,
the puberty soft things.

And we muse
how women
keep bruises
hidden
beneath dead
leaves. ~ Janice Mirikitani

Almost everyone today is prepared to say that those teachings of Christianity cannot be things we know and that, in this respect, they are like the teachings of every religion. We in the United States live under a social consensus that seems to require such a response. According to it, the teachings of religion are not possible subjects of knowledge. But we must not accept this conclusion without question, for its implications are of profound importance. They place the teachings of religion at a crushing disadvantage before all that passes for knowledge in our world. They relegate them to practical irrelevance and loosen any grip they might otherwise have on the understanding and direction of life. Is that really justified? Or is it a terrible mistake? ~ Dallas Willard

He'd been working for my father and following me around for I didn't know how long. He probably knew a lot of things about me. Probably even knew what kind of underwear I wore.
Which begged the question. Was he a boxer or brief kind of guy? ~ Devon Monk

If you continually write and read yourself as a fiction, you can change what's crushing you. ~ Jeanette Winterson

Cat limbs all over the floor, chewed to the bone." "Mew-Mew, Licorice!" Maripat cried. Tearfully, Augusta told them about Tiny grinning at the end of Augusta's bed, covered with blood. His little tongue hanging out, a demoniacal mask on his face, his fangs dripping with blood as he sprang for her throat just before she slammed the door shut. ~ Luanne Rice

Babies are soft. Anyone looking at them can see the tender, fragile skin and know it for the rose-leaf softness that invites a finger's touch. But when you live with them and love them, you feel the softness going inward, the round-cheeked flesh wobbly as custard, the boneless splay of the tiny hands. Their joints are melted rubber, and even when you kiss them hard, in the passion of loving their existence, your lips sink down and seem never to find bone. Holding them against you, they melt and mold, as though they might at any moment flow back into your body.

But from the very start, there is that small streak of steel within each child. That thing that says "I am," and forms the core of personality.

In the second year, the bone hardens and the child stands upright, skull wide and solid, a helmet protecting the softness within. And "I am" grows, too. Looking at them, you can almost see it, sturdy as heartwood, glowing through the translucent flesh.

The bones of the face emerge at six, and the soul within is fixed at seven. The process of encapsulation goes on, to reach its peak in the glossy shell of adolescence, when all softness then is hidden under the nacreous layers of the multiple new personalities that teenagers try on to guard themselves.

In the next years, the hardening spreads from the center, as one finds and fixes the facets of the soul, until "I am" is set, delicate and detailed as an insect in amber. ~ Diana Gabaldon

Why doesn't constant trampling defeat the dandelion? The key to its strength is its long and sturdy root, which extends deep into the earth. The same priciple applies to people. The true victors in life are those who, enduring repeated challenges and setbacks, have sent the roots of their being to such a depth that nothing can shake them. ~ Daisaku Ikeda

He knew he needed to release her, but once he allowed his physical connection to drop away, he was uncertain if he'd ever have a chance to reconnect. Instinctively, he knew Azami was elusive, like water flowing through fingers, or the wind shifting in the trees. He needed a way to seal her to him.
"How does one court a woman in Japan? Do I need your brothers' permission?"
She blinked again. Shocked. A hint of uncertainty crept into her eyes. She frowned, and he bent his head to swallow her protest before she could utter it. Her mouth trembled beneath his, and then she opened to him, like a flower, luring him deeper. Her arms slid around his neck, her body pressing tightly against his. He tightened his fingers in her hair.
He was burning, through and through, from the inside out, a hot melting of bone and tissue. He hadn't known he was lonely or even looking for something. He'd been complete. He loved his life. He was a man with teammates he trusted implicitly. He lived in wild places of beauty he enjoyed. He hadn't considered there would be a woman who could ever fit with him, who would ever turn his insides soft and his body hard.
Feel the same way, Azami. He didn't lift his mouth, kissing her again and again because one he'd made the mistake, he was addicted and what was the use fighting it? Not when it felt so damn right.
Somewhere along the line, his kiss went from sheer aggression and command, to absolute tenderness. The emotion for her rose like ~ Christine Feehan