Feel It In My Bones Quotes

He smiles. "You know- I feel everything when you touch me, love. I can feel your excitement. Your nervousness. Your pleasure. And I love it," he says quietly. "I love the way you respond to me. I love the way you want me. I feel it when you lose yourself, the way you trust me when we're together. And I feel your love for me," he whispers. "I feel it in my bones,"
~ Warner to Ella/Juliette ~ Tahareh Mafi

I feel it in my bones that if I had a kid, I would not either continue to write or have written the book I have done. So it's just me and the dog. I've always gotten along better with animals than I have with children, anyway. ~ Sonya Hartnett

She was without a doubt the girl I would marry one day; I knew that. Not next month or even next year, but one day. I had never in my life ever felt the peace I had when I was anywhere near Olivia. She made all the shit seem like it was miles away. In her eyes, I wasn't the poor boy from Texas who had some shit family. I was just Keeton Pearce, the man she loved. She was free of judgement, and nothing felt better than the love of a woman so pure and compassionate. Olivia Sawyer was an amazing woman, and in that moment I found myself falling even deeper than I already was. Falling felt natural, uncontrollable, and I wanted it so badly I could feel it in my bones. ~ C.A. Harms

I want you," he says with a gruff tenderness. "I want more of you. And I don't care how I get it."
I search his eyes, greener now than they have ever been. They're bright and burning and I know he wants me. I can feel it in my bones, and the thrill is like a million bombs going off at once. How did this even happen? I'm absolutely spellbound by him.
I clear my throat, but even so my words are quiet. "You have me. ~ Karina Halle

I feel you in my bones. You're knocking at my windows. You're slow to letting me go. And I know this feeling, This feeling in my bones. ~ Tegan Quin

I could feel it in my bones, how I missed the heat of my country and the love of my family. ~ Tony Perez

Beck, I think I may actually break through with this one. I think there could be something here. I feel it in my bones." "Maybe that's just osteoporosis. ~ Anonymous

I love him, I truly do. I feel it in my bones, in my soul, with all my heart. It's just like all those sentiments that I've read about in the past in those Hallmark cards. ~ L. Filloon

I just know there's an albino living in the colored quarters. I can feel it in my bones. ~ Fannie Flagg

Warmth rushes through me because Kismet always prevails.
The jury has decided. I feel it in my bones. ~ Courtney Cole

I can feel it in my bones: I'm gonna spend my whole life alone. ~ Liz Phair

I could feel it in my bones that I was where I belonged-close to him. ~ Inger Iversen

Such a nasty bruise," he says, staring straight into my eyes. I am stunned he can see it. Delicate to the touch and tender on every side, the bruise is deeper than days. My hand automatically moves to my chest.

Science taught me with valid assurance that my heart was fixed in my rib cage, but life has since shown me otherwise. My heart in fact dangles from a tangle of strings. The ends are grasped tight by numerous people who yank and release, having caused many painful bruises over time. I cry because they are invisible to most.

"Such a nasty bruise," he repeats, tugging on my poor heart.

His kind eyes fall away from mine as I feel a squeeze on my arm. He twists it enough to show me a small, round patch of purple surrounded by a sickly yellowish corona.

"Oh. My elbow." I let the air exhale from my lungs. Another bruise forms where my heart has hit the floor. It is jerked up again.

"Can I do anything for you?" I see in his eyes the mirror image of a finger - his finger - wrapped in one of the dangling strings. He tugs and I feel it.

"No," I reply to his question. But it is a lie. There is something he could do, along with all who grasp a portion of the web entangling my heart. I wish they would mercifully let go. ~ Richelle E. Goodrich

We should teach our kids that they're blessing and not a burden and that they're valuable beyond what they can imagine - in God's eyes, in the world's eyes - that they're purpose is so important to fulfill and it's gonna make a difference in the world. And they're the only ones that can make the difference that they can make, in the way that they can make it. That's why we all have different fingerprints. And I feel like the message is not clear enough. It's not clear because they go to school and they get challenged and they're bombarded with the idea that abortion is okay, that we can just go ahead and, you know, if we're not ready to have a kid we can just take care of that problem. But kids are not a problem, they're not a mistake, they're not a burden. They're blessing from God and that's what we don't understand. My mom was sixteen when she had me and we both almost died, I was a second kid, she had my brother when she was fifteen. And we both almost died and the doctors told her to abort me and I think that a lot of people gave her that advice. So when I grew up I think I had a sense of being a burden. And I think a lot of kids actually have that sense. ~ Lacey Sturm

I feel very lucky. I don't know what else there has to be. I'm happy, as corny as it sounds, to be living in a place where it's easy to live, easy to drive to the airport, easy to go pick up something at the supermarket and to have a circle of friends. Those were my goals in 1998, not to be queen of photography but to make a cultural adjustment to the West. And those are still more important goals to me than professional ones right now. ~ Andrea Modica

It is a good thing she is on our side, is it not?"
Noah started, turning to confront the Demon who had appeared at his back with flawless silence and concealment.
"Jacob! You just took ten years off my life," Noah hissed.
"Only ten? I must be losing my touch." Jacob looked from Noah to the last place Legna had been standing. He nodded his head in her former direction. "What was that all about?"
"I have no idea, but I am beginning to feel like I am the only one who does not know what the hell is happening in his own damn house."
"Sorry state of affairs, seeing as how you are King and all," Jacob said, his lips twitching with amusement as Noah glared at him. "That is only my opinion, though. Perhaps I will ask my troublemaking wife for hers."
Noah had the grace to openly wince.
"You heard that, hmm?"
"And therefore . . ." Jacob prompted.
"She heard it, too," Noah concluded with comical pain. "Forgive me, Bella. I think I am just in a foul mood."
"She says she will forgive you as soon as she needs a babysitter."
"You know, I think you better go out there and enforce some of my laws before I begin to think of how many ways I can set your ass on fire," the King said meanly, the glare of his gaze all business.
"I would, but I am in need of Gideon. Where is he?"
"How should I know?" Noah asked grumpily, moving to the fire and sinking down into the only thing in the room that wasn't giving him grief: his favorite chair. ~ Jacquelyn Frank

I used to feel guilty about spending morning hours working on a book; about fleeing to the brook in the afternoon. It took several summers of being totally frazzled by September to make me realize that this was a false guilt. I'm much more use to family and friends when I'm not physically and spiritually depleted than when I spend my energies as though they were unlimited. They are not. The time at the typewriter and the time at the brook refresh me and put me into a more workable perspective. ~ Madeleine L'Engle

All I'd ever heard my entire life in my family was, "Nobody wanted you, and we took you in." When you get that into your head at a tender age, you really feel like you are an unlovable human being, and then you behave like one. That's exactly what I had done. It took me many years to deal with my own violence and find my own niche. ~ Sam Hamill

Madame V begins the lesson by reading aloud the first stanza of a famous French poem: Il pleure dans mon coeur Comme il pleut sur la ville; Quelle est cette langueur Qui penetre mon coeur? Then she looks up and without any warning she calls on me to translate it. I swallow hard, and try: "It's raining in my heart like it's raining in the city. What is this sadness that pierces my heart?" Saying these words out loud, right in front of the whole class, makes me feel like I'm not wearing any clothes. ~ Sonya Sones

The perfect chocolate chip cookie," I intone, "should have three rings. The center should be soft and a little gooey. The middle ring should be chewy. And the outer ring should be crispy."
"I can't hear her give this speech again," Kitty says to Peter. "I just can't."
"Be patient," he says, squeezing her shoulder. "It's almost over, and then we get cookies."
"The perfect cookie is best eaten while still warm, but still delicious at room temperature."
"If you don't quit talking, they won't be warm anymore," Kitty grumbles. I shoot her a glare, but truthfully, I'm glad she's here to be a buffer between Peter and me. Her presence makes things feel normal.
"In the baking world, it is a truth universally acknowledged that Jacques Torres has perfected the chocolate chip cookie. Peter, you and I tasted it for ourselves just a few months ago." I'm really stretching it now to make them suffer. "How will my cookie measure up? Spoiler alert. It's amazing."
Kitty slides off her stool. "That's it. I'm out of here. A chocolate chip cookie isn't worth all this."
I pat her on the head. "Oh, naïve little Kitten. Dear, foolish girl. This cookie is worth all this and more. Sit or you will not partake."
Rolling her eyes, she sits back down.
"My friends, I have finally found it. My white whale. My golden ring. The cookie to rule them all. ~ Jenny Han

Ara. Ara, stop." He propped my body against the wall and unfastened my hands from his neck.
"Why? What's wrong?" I wiped my mouth dry with the back of my wrist. "Did I hurt you?"
"Yes, you little leech." He cupped his hand over the bite mark and pulled it away to look at it. "I may not have a heartbeat, but I still feel pain."
"You're bruising." I squinted through the dull light to see his neck.
"I know. I can feel that."
"I'm sorry."
"Are you kidding me?" He looked up at me. "Ara, that felt amazing. It hurt, but damn it was hard for me to control myself."
"Control yourself?"
"Yeah. I wanted to..." He looked down and shook his head.
"You wanted to what?" I lifted his face.
"I wanted to do...things to you."
"What kinds of...things." Excitement and fear made my heart thump. "Bad things?"
"Yes. Bad things." He reached up slowly and slipped the shoestring strap of my dress down my shoulder, then ran a delicate line of kisses along the curve of my neck, making the skin on my lower back tingle.
"That doesn't feel like bad things."
"This is not what I had in mind," he said into my shoulder. ~ Angela M. Hudson

Until my thirtieth year, I lived in a state of almost continuous anxiety interspersed with periods of suicidal depression. It feels now as if I am talking about some past lifetime or somebody else's life.

One night not long after my twenty-ninth birthday, I woke up in the early hours with a feeling of absolute dread. I had woken up with such a feeling many times before, but this time it was more intense than it had ever been. The silence of the night, the vague outlines of the furniture in the dark room, the distant noise of a passing train – everything felt so alien, so hostile, and so utterly meaningless that it created in me a deep loathing of the world. The most loathsome thing of all, however, was my own existence. What was the point in continuing to live with this burden of misery? Why carry on with this continuous struggle? I could feel that a deep longing for annihilation, for nonexistence, was now becoming much stronger than the instinctive desire to continue to live.

'I cannot live with myself any longer.' This was the thought that kept repeating itself in my mind. Then suddenly I became aware of what a peculiar thought it was. 'Am I one or two? If I cannot live with myself, there must be two of me: the 'I' and the 'self' that 'I' cannot live with.' 'Maybe,' I thought, 'only one of them is real.'

I was so stunned by this strange realization that my mind stopped. I was fully conscious, but there were no more thoughts. Then I felt draw ~ Eckhart Tolle

Books are my very favorite gift to give. If you give a book to someone and they really respond to it, you feel you've actually changed their life in some way. ~ Jeannette Walls

I'm always trying to mentor young women. I speak on college campuses and I have events in my own studio where I open it up to women's groups to learn. I feel really strongly about it. ~ Emily Lazar

Style" comes on and we all go crazy, screaming in each other's faces and jumping up and down. Peter goes craziest of all. He keeps asking me if I'm having fun. He only asks out loud once, but with his eyes he asks me again and again. They are bright and hopeful, alight with expectation. With my eyes I tell him, Yes yes yes I am having fun.
We're starting to get the hang of slow dancing, too. Maybe we should take a ballroom-dancing class when I get to UVA so we can actually get good at it.
I tell him this, and fondly he says, "You always want to take things to the next level. Next-level chocolate chip cookies."
"I gave up on those."
"Next-level Halloween costumes."
"I like for things to feel special." At this, Peter smiles down at me and I say, "It's just too bad we'll never dance cheek to cheek."
"Maybe we could order you some dancing stilts."
"Oh, you mean high heels?"
He snickers. "I don't think there's such a thing as ten-inch heels."
I ignore him. "And it's too bad your noodle arms aren't strong enough to pick me up."
Peter lets out a roar like an injured lion and swoops me up and swings me around, just like I knew he would. It's a rare thing, to know someone so well, whether they'll pivot left or right. Outside of my family, I think he might be the person I know best of all. ~ Jenny Han

You know this has really affected my ability to trust myself. No matter what happened in my life, I was always able to trust myself. My instincts. Two men in a row carrying on indiscretions makes me feel like I made up some story. Almost like a fiction, I
wrote in my mind that had a beginning, middle and end. It feels like I manufactured some ideal life that was a made-up invention that I needed to believe was the truth. ~ Jacqueline Simon Gunn

The only time I waste is time I spend doing something that, in my gut, I know I shouldn't. If I choose to spend time playing video games or sleeping in, then it's time well spent, because I chose to do it. I did it for a reason - to relax, to decompress or to feel good, and that was what I wanted to do. ~ Simon Sinek

When I break My Silence, the impact of My Love will be universal and all life in creation will know, feel and receive of it. It will help every individual to break himself free from his own bondage in his own way. I am the Divine Beloved who loves you more than you can ever love yourself. The breaking of My Silence will help you to help yourself in knowing your real Self. ~ Meher Baba

Clare, I want to tell you, again, I love you. Our love has been the thread through the labyrinth, the net under the high-wire walker, the only real thing in this strange life of mine that I could ever trust. Tonight I feel that my love for you has more density in this world than I do, myself: as though it could linger on after me and surround you, keep you, hold you. ~ Audrey Niffenegger

I had always been very rational, but I'd always used reason in such a way as to convince myself that reasoning alone would not solve anything, really. Reasoning is theoretical. Until you feel with your heart, you don't know if a thing is true. I found that book was absolutely authentic. I absolutely knew it was the truth. My whole heart accepted it. ~ Goswami Kriyananda

As the sun shines low and red across the water, I wade into the ocean. The water is still high and brown and murky with the memory of the storm, so if there's something below it, I won't know it. But that's part of this, the not knowing. The surrender to the possibilities beneath the surface. It wasn't the ocean that killed my father, in the end. The water is so cold that my feet go numb almost at once. I stretch my arms out to either side of me and close my eyes. I listen to the sound of water hitting water. The raucous cries of the terns and the guillemots in the rocks of the shore, the piercing, hoarse questions of the gulls above me. I smell seaweed and fish and the dusky scent of the nesting birds onshore. Salt coats my lips, crusts my eyelashes. I feel the cold press against my body. The sand shifts and sucks out from under my feet in the tide. I'm perfectly still. The sun is red behind my eyelids. The ocean will not shift me and the cold will not take me. ~ Maggie Stiefvater

Standing at the edge of time
Almost falling down to the dark abyss
As I near the end of mine
I reminisce the things I will miss

The smiles and laughter
Running around without a care
The time when my grin will never falter
Being so free, willing my soul to bare

Heartaches, heartbreaks and tears
Now I know better and to myself I will never lie
Because in woe, I learned to love and never fear
Those were the best and worst moments of my life

As the memories rush back to me
I look down and now I feel relieved
Because when it is time
Everything will be fine when I leave ~ Isabelle Guzman

You can't help but change when you have a kid, and for me it was just a sense of I didn't feel like anything was missing in my life and it wasn't. It all came at just the right time, and now if I am absent from my son, I do feel like something is missing. ~ Chris Pratt

Most people don't understand what a library does for me and I've tried to explain it to them. All I know is that I feel energized when I'm in one. My pulse quickens when I walk through the the stacks. I feel like an explorer surveying an uncharted shore. Lost worlds are here waiting to be discovered. Ancient worlds; once glorious, not crumbled. Future worlds; no more substantial than the numbers or ideas or words of those who dream them. Mythical worlds. Worlds of limitless dimensions.
Libraries are medieval forests masking opportunity and danger; every aisle is a path, every catalog reference a clue to the location of the Holy Grail. ~ Jack Cavanaugh

I wish I knew how it would feel to be free"

I wish I knew how
It would feel to be free
I wish I could break
All the chains holdin' me
I wish I could say
All the things that I should say
Say 'em loud say 'em clear
For the whole 'round world to hear

I wish I could share
All the love that's in my heart
Remove all the bars
That keep us apart
I wish you could know
What it means to be me
Then you'd see and agree
That every man should be free

I wish I could give
All I'm longin' to give
I wish I could live like I'm longing to live
I wish I could do all the things that I can do
And though I'm way over due
I'd be startin' a new

Well I wish I could be
Like a bird in the sky
How sweet it would be
If I found I could fly
Oh I'd soar to the sun
And look down at the sea

Then I'd sing 'cause I'd know yeah
And I'd sing 'cause I'd know yeah
And I'd sing 'cause I'd know

I'd know how it feels
I'd know how it feels to be free
Yeah, yeah I'd know how it feels
Yes, I'd know
I'd know how it feels, how it feels
To be free, oh lord ~ William Taylor, Richard Carroll Lamb

The wu in wuxia means both "to cut" and "to stop." It also refers to the weapon - usually a sword - carried by the assassin, the hero of the story. The genre became very popular during the Song Dynasty [960–1279]. These stories often depicted a soldier in revolt, usually against a corrupt political leader. In order to stop corruption and the killing of innocent people, the hero must become an assassin. So wuxia stories are concerned with the premise of ending violence with violence. Although their actions are motivated by political reasons, the hero's journey is epic and transformative - physically, emotionally, and spiritually. In the Tang Dynasty, a prominent poet named Li Bai wrote some verses about an assassin. This is the earliest example I know of wuxia literature. Gradually, the genre gave shape to ideas and stories that had been percolating in historical and mythological spheres. Although these stories were often inspired by real events of the past, to me they feel very contemporary and relevant.

It's one of the oldest genres in Chinese literature, and there are countless wuxia novels today. I began to immerse myself in these novels when I was in elementary school, and they quickly became my favorite things to read. I started with newer books and worked my way back to the earliest writing from the Tang Dynasty. ~ Hou Hsiao-hsien

I never knew before, what such a love as you have made me feel, was; I did not believe in it; my Fancy was afraid of it, lest it should burn me up. But if you will fully love me, though there may be some fire, 'twill not be more than we can bear when moistened and bedewed with Pleasures. ~ John Keats

She looked at me and the expression on her face was an expression of dislike, one I hadn't seen before but knew right away. Later I would see it turned toward other people. But the first time was looking at me and was because she believed she'd done all she could that was correct and the best thing, and it had only gotten her stuck with me. And I couldn't do anything that mattered. Though if I could I would've had my father be there, or Warren Miller, or somebody who had the right words that would take the place of hers, anybody she could speak to without just hearing her own voice in a room and having to go about the trouble of pretending she did not feel absolutely alone. ~ Richard Ford

Who can tell truth from falsehood any more?
I say it, and you feel it in your hearts:
no man or woman on this big small earth.
How should our sages miss the mark of life,
and our most skillful players lose the game?
your hearts will tell you, as my heart has told me:
because all know, and no one understands. ~ E. E. Cummings

I faced odds when glaucoma took the bat out of my hands. But I didn't give in or feel sorry for myself. I've said it before, and I'll say it again: 'It may be cloudy in my right eye, but the sun is shining very brightly in my left eye.' ~ Allan Ray

•"I'm head cheerleader for the football team." She shrugged.
"Wait, back up a little…I'm screwing a cheerleader?" I groaned at the thousand lustful thoughts of her in a little cheer uniform. "You have a uniform?" I could feel myself getting excited at the thought alone.
She nodded, rolling her eyes. "What is it with guys and cheer uniforms?" she teased, trailing little kisses across my cheek. ~ Kirsty Moseley

When she finally reached it, she bent forward and looked through the peephole.
Jay was grinning back at her from outside.
Her heart leaped for a completely different reason.
She set aside her crutches and quickly unbolted the door to open it.
"What took you so long?"
Her knee was bent and her ankle pulled up off the ground. She balanced against the doorjamb. "What d'you think, dumbass?" she retorted smartly, keeping her voice down so she wouldn't alert her parents. "You scared the crap out of me, by the way. My parents are already in bed, and I was all alone down here."
"Good!" he exclaimed as he reached in and grabbed her around the waist, dragging her up against him and wrapping his arms around her.
She giggled while he held her there, enjoying everything about the feel of him against her. "What are you doing here? I thought I wouldn't see you till tomorrow."
"I wanted to show you something!" He beamed at her, and his enthusiasm reached out to capture her in its grip. She couldn't help smiling back excitedly.
"What is it?" she asked breathlessly.
He didn't release her; he just turned, still holding her gently in his arms, so that she could see out into the driveway. The first thing she noticed was the officer in his car, alert now as he kept a watchful eye on the two of them. Violet realized that it was late, already past eleven, and from the look on his face, she thought he must have been hoping for a quiet, uneventful eve ~ Kimberly Derting

His gaze lifted as he leaned in, placing his mouth an inch from mine. The air was sucked right out of the room, and I felt dizzy again. "Ever since I first saw you." He moved so that his mouth was angled with mine. "And right now I want to so badly it hurts. You have no idea, Em, but I don't want to hurt you."
My gaze dropped to his parted lips. What would it be like to feel them against my own? Unable to stop myself, I brought my mouth within a hair's breadth of his. "I want to kiss you, too. ~ Jennifer L. Armentrout

Dad takes a step back, one hand still on my shoulder, and reaches into his pocket. He draws out a little blue capsule, and I feel every molecule in my body screaming to run. Dad must catch the panic in my eyes - he squeezes my shoulder and holds out the capsule. "Cas, it's fine. It's going to be fine. This is just in case."

Just in case. Just in case the worst happens. The ship falls. Durga fails, I fail, and the knowledge I carry as a Reckoner trainer must be disposed of. That information can't fall into the wrong hands, into the hands of people who will do anything to take down our beasts.

So this little capsule holds the pill that will kill me if it comes to that.

"It's waterproof," Dad continues, pressing it into my hand. "The pocket on the collar of your wetsuit, keep it there. It has to stay with you at all times."

It won't happen on this voyage. It's such a basic mission, gift-wrapped to be easy enough for me to handle on my own. But even holding the pill fills me with revulsion. On all my training voyages, I've never had to carry one of these capsules. That burden only goes to full-time trainers.

"Cas." Dad tilts my chin up, ripping my gaze from the pull. "You were born to do this. I promise you, you'll forget you even have it." I suppose he ought to know - he's been carrying one for two decades.

It's just a right of passage, I tell myself, and throw my arms around his neck once more. ~ Emily Skrutskie

Wow!" My whole body exploded with joy and excitement to see this magnificent sight. Overwhelmed by their presence, my stomach fluttered right along with them. Butterflies of every color, looking as if they were painted with patches of bold bright reds, oranges, blues, purples, and yellows, all intertwined, overlapping each other. As I continued to follow their path, I squinted at the brilliant sun in the cloudless sky. It blinded me for a split second, and then I saw that the butterflies were returning, circling around Michael and me - all of them dancing in the sky. Each knew its location and position with such precision, never colliding while reaching higher and higher to form a tunnel. Countless butterflies, circling around us, gave me chills as I could feel the air gently flowing from their wings. It was incredible to experience such beauty of color and grace so close within reach. ~ C. Gockel

They will eat him alive. On his current course, Henry will fail spectacularly."

My chest constricts so tight it feels like my bones may crack.

Because she's right.

"He won't."

"You don't know that," she swipes back.

"I damn well do! I never would have abdicated otherwise."

"What?"

"Don't mistake me - I wouldn't have married anyone but Olivia, and I would've waited a lifetime if I had to, until the laws were changed. But I didn't because I knew in my heart and soul that Henry will not just be a good king, he will be better than I ever could've been."

For a moment I don't breathe. I can't. The shock of my brother's words has knocked the air right out of my lungs.

Granny's too, if her whisper is any indication.

"You truly believe that?"

"Absolutely. And, frankly, I'm disheartened that you don't."

"Henry has never been one to rise to the occasion," she states plainly.

"He's never needed to," my brother insists. "He's never been asked - not once in his whole life. Until now. And he will not only rise to the occasion . . . he will soar beyond it."

The Queen's voice is hushed, like she's in prayer.

"I want to believe that. More than I can say. Lend me a bit of your faith, Nicholas. Why are you so certain?"

Nicholas's voice is rough, tight with emotion.

"Because . . . he's just like Mum."

~ Emma Chase

Tell me how does it feel with my teeth in your heart! ~ Euripides

The first movements of the fetus produce this sense of the splitting subject; the fetus's movements are wholly mine, completely within me, condition my experience and space. Only I have access to these movements from their origin, as it were. For months only I can witness this life within me, and it is only under my direction of where to put their hands that others can feel these movements. I have a privileged relation to this other life, not unlike that which I have to my dreams and thoughts, which I can tell someone but which cannot be an object for both of us in the same way... Pregnancy challenges the integration of my body experience by rendering fluid the boundary between what is within, myself, and what is outside, separate. I experience my insides as the space of another, yet my own body. ~ Iris Marion Young

The woman [Cadsuane] looked at the battered tea things as if she had all the time in the world. "Now you know," she said at last, calm as ever, "that I know your future, and your present. The Light's mercy fades to nothing for a man who can channel. Some see that and believe the Light denies those men. I do not. Have you begun to hear voices, yet?"
"What do you mean?" he asked slowly. He could feel Lews Therin listening.
[...]
"Some men who can channel begin to hear voices." She spoke almost absently, frowning at the flattened sphere of silver and gold. "It is a part of the madness. Voices conversing with them, telling them what to do." The teapot drifted gently to the floor by her feet. "Have you heard any?"
[...]
"I will ask the questions," Rand said firmly. "You seem to forget. I am the Dragon Reborn." You are real, aren't you? he wondered. There was no answer. Lews Therin? Sometimes the man did not answer, but Aes Sedai always drew him. Lews Therin? He was not mad; the voice was real, not imagination. Not madness. A sudden desire to laugh did not help.
Cadsuane sighed. "You are a young man who has little idea where he is going or why, or what lies ahead. You seem overwrought. Perhaps we can speak when you are more settled. Have you any objection to my taking Merana and Annoura away for a little while? I've seen neither in quite some time."
Rand gaped at her. She swooped in, insulted him, threatened him, casually announced she knew about ~ Robert Jordan

I sing the best when I'm really in my voice. It's kind of like I'm meditating but I sort of imagine my voice as a physical thing. I see colours, I feel it moving out of me and I try to tap into images that I was tapping into when I was writing the song. ~ Brett Dennen

Goodbye, Christian," I murmur.
"Ana, goodbye," he says softly, and he looks utterly, utterly broken,a man in agonizing pain, reflecting how I feel inside. I tear my gaze away from him before I can change my mind and try to comfort him.
The elevator doors close close and it whisks me down to the bowels of the basement and to my own personal hell. ~ E.L. James

Music for me is something I prefer to keep away form the whole business part of my life. I feel like everything I do, in a way, has some sort of business around it. So with my music I can have my privacy. If people don't have to pay for it then I think they can be a little more open to new ideas. ~ Milla Jovovich

Who is setting the bar for what you call accessibility? The definition of "accessible" is "easy to understand," and so much of the fiction I love is just ... not that. It is complex and rich and sometimes puzzling, and it stays with me precisely because I can't quite wrap my head around it. Sometimes it is lucid and approachable on the surface, and other times the language is congested in order to fire up strong sensations. Accessibility is such a strange, sad measure of the writing I love. Dora the Explorer is accessible. The Unconsoled is not. But I have never been deliberately difficult, if that's what you're getting at. That has no appeal to me. I've always tried to write the fiction that compels me the most - I have to feel passionate, engaged, and nearly desperate if I'm going to get anything done. When I'm working on material that is conceptual or abstract or in some way difficult, I strive for clarity, transparency, a vivid attack. ~ Ben Marcus