Morning Breath Quotes

Reading for me, was like breathing. It was probably akin to masturbation for my brain. Getting off on the fantasy within the pages of a good novel felt necessary to my survival. If I wasn't asleep, knitting, or working, I was reading. This was for several reasons, all of them focused around the infititely superior and enviable lives of fictional heroines to real-life people.
Take romans for instance. Fictional women in romance novels never get their period. They never have morning breath. They orgasm seventeen times a day. And they never seem to have jobs with bosses.
These clean, well-satisfied, perm-minty-breathed women have fulfilling careers as florists, bakery owners, hair stylists or some other kind of adorable small business where they decorate all day. If they do have a boss, he's a cool guy (or gal) who's invested in the woman's love life. Or, he's a super hot billionaire trying to get in her pants.
My boss cares about two things: Am I on time ? Are all my patients alive and well at the end of my shift?
And the mend in the romance novels are too good to be true; but I love it, and I love them. Enter stage right the independently wealthy venture capitalist suffering from the ennui of perfection until a plucky interior decorator enters stage left and shakes up his life and his heart with perky catch phrases and a cute nose that wrinkles when she sneezes.
I suck at decorating. The walls of my apartment are bare. I am allergic to most sto ~ Penny Reid

Take romance for instance. Fictional women in romance novels never get their period. They never have morning breath. They orgasm seventeen times a day. And they never seem to have jobs with bosses. ~ Penny Reid

Mist in the morning is Earth's morning breath… ~ Nanette L. Avery

Love is missing the taste of someone's morning breath. Thinking they're beautiful, even when their nose is Rudolph-red and their hair is bird's nest crazy. Love isn't putting up with someone in spite of their faults
it's adoring them because of them. ~ Emma Chase

Three things I know this second: I have morning breath, I'm naked and I'm waking up next to a boy I don't know. ~ Daisy Whitney

Morning breath here. 'A dirty mouth you say,' clean it up with Orbit." Maya chuckled. "Unless you have gum, I'm not letting you near me." She reached for a pillow and plopped it over her face.
"Ha-ha! Good one. No gum on me, but I'll settle for kissing your belly." Alex whisked her pajama top up and knelt down to kiss the roundest part of her tummy. ~ Melisa M. Hamling

You can fix it as soon as you get up - you brush and use mouthwash - but there's something about knowing you woke up with hot-mothball mouth that makes you feel old. I think God designed our mouths to die first to help us slowly transition to the grave. ~ Tina Fey

Call me cynical, call me cold-hearted, but I don't believe in just knowing and love at first sight. I just don't believe that's love. Love is knowing someone's flaws, habits and pet peeves; having to deal with their grumbling after a bad day; the weird quirks that only surface after several months of being together; living with their morning breath and farts. It's not that gushy, obsessive, in-the-moment feeling. That's a crush. And sure, they can hurt, but you'll get over them. It's not destiny. ~ Emily May

These were the girls who had boyfriends. Not girls with keratosis on their upper arms, or morning breath, or who spent an inordinate number of evenings watching K dramas with their dads, or … girls who at the age of seventeen still hadn't had boyfriends. ~ Maurene Goo

Any situation was better faced with an empty bladder, a clean body, and a lack of morning breath. ~ Jeaniene Frost

He takes my face in his hands and presses his lips against mine – a tender, beautiful kiss – the kiss I've waited for forever. He quickly pulls his shirt over his head and my breath catches in my throat at the sight of his muscular body and smooth skin. He pushes Ordinary gently to the bottom of the bunk and climbs in next to me. Wrapping his arms around me, he lays his head next to mine. At last, we sleep.' ...from Notes on a Rebellion ~ Valentina Hepburn

It was a lovely morning, hinting at a brutally hot day. Cole squinted into the milky haze that filled his canyon, enjoyed the coffee, and noticed a red-tailed hawk circling overhead, searching for field mice and snakes. Cole said, "What do you think? Is today his day or not?" A black cat sat nearby on the deck, staring down through the rail into the canyon. The cat didn't answer, which is what you get when you talk to cats. Cole said, "You're just jealous you can't fly. ~ Robert Crais

A morning-flowered dalliance
demured and dulcet-sweet
with ebullience and efflorescence
admiring, cozy cottages
and elixirs of eloquence
lie waiting at our feet -

We'll dance through fetching pleasantries
as we walk ephemeral roads
evocative epiphanies
ethereal, though we know
our hearts are linked with gossamer
halcyon our day
a harbinger of pretty things
infused with whispers longing still
and gamboling in sultry ways
to feelings, all ineffable
screaming with insouciance
masking labyrinthine paths

where, in our nonchalance, we walk
through the lilt of love's new morning rays.

Mellifluous murmurings
from a babbling brook
that soothes our heated passion-songs
and panoplies perplexed with thought
of shadows carried off with clouds
in stormy summer rains…

My dear, and that I can call you 'dear'
after ripples turned to crashing waves
after pyrrhic wins, emotions drained
we find our palace sunned and rayed
with quintessential moments lit
with wildflower lanterns arrayed
on verandahs lush with mutual love,
the softest love – our preferred décor

of life's lilly-blossom gate

in white-fenced serendipity…

Twilight sunlit heavens cross

our gardens, graced with perseverance,
bliss, and thee, and thou, so splendid, deli ~ Numi Who

The sun had burned off whatever morning fog and low clouds had gripped the city, and now a glorious fall day was upon them. Warm sunlight caressed his face as cool ocean breezes carried the sound of gulls and the tang of salt. He remembered the stab of pain he had felt when he had thought he would not see the day, and the terror and panic that had gripped him as rough hands had placed him upon the gallows returned. Erik felt a choking sensation in his own chest, and suddenly, without any ability to control it, he began to weep. Roo ~ Raymond E. Feist

Kingsley woke up that morning and decided to fuck the first girl who'd let him. Luckily there was a girl conveniently located in his bed. Who she was he didn't quite remember, but it didn't really matter. ~ Tiffany Reisz

On one end it had a few tables and a little kitchen that served as a diner where the old men sat and drank their coffee in the morning. "Sweaty Betty" Johnson (we called her Mrs. Johnson to her face) ran the diner and has for longer than I can remember. She's a one woman operation - she cooks, waitresses, and manages it all on her own. She makes fluffy homemade donuts and the best greasy french fries on the planet. Everything she makes is deep-fried, and her face has a permanent sheen from the grease and the heat – which is how she got the nickname Sweaty Betty. Even cleaned up for church on Sundays her face glows and sadly, it isn't from the Holy Spirit. ~ Amy Harmon

How much of her life had she spent waiting? Waiting for a plant to sprout? Waiting for her father's judgment? Waiting for another letter
to appear in the knothole from Kai? Waiting for years after Kai left to feel at peace with her decision? She fed the Reduced, she did her chores, she avoided her father and her sister, and she waited.She did the duties she'd been taught as a Luddite, and she lied with every breath. ~ Diana Peterfreund

As he stood there lost in reflection, Auclair thought he seemed more like a man revolving plans for a new struggle with fortune than one looking back upon a life of brilliant features. The Count had the bearing of a fencer when he takes up the foil; from his shoulders to his heels there was intention and direction. His carriage was his unconscious idea of himself,
it was an armour he put on when he took off his night-cap in the morning, and he wore it all day, at early mass, at his desk, on the march, at the Council, at his dinner-table. Even his enemies relied upon his strength. ~ Willa Cather

When you get up in the morning and know you're doing something you love, feel fit and look after yourself, it's just a great thing to do. ~ Jermain Defoe

The significance is that it is my challenge; it gets me out of the door every morning and it is good for my physical and mental health which I can monitor on a daily basis. ~ Ron Hill

Well, good luck to you both. Rome will be the winner whoever is the victor'. Cicero began to move away but then checked himself, and a slight frown crossed his face. He returned to Catulus. 'One more thing, if I may? Who proposed this widening of the franchise?' 'Caesar' Although Latin is a language rich in subtlety and metaphor, I cannot command the words, either in that tongue or even in Greek, to describe Cicero's expression at that moment. 'Dear gods' he said in a tone of utter shock. 'Is it possible he means to stand himself?' 'Of course not. That would be ridiculous. He's far too young. He's thirty-six. He's not yet even been elected praetor' 'Yes, but even so, in my opinion, you would be well advised to reconvene your college as quickly as possible and go back to the existing method of selection.' 'That is impossible' 'Why?' 'The bill to change the franchise was laid before the people this morning' 'By whom?' 'Labienus' 'Ah!' Cicero clapped his hand to his forehead. ~ Robert Harris

But he was so young then that later he was only able to remember fragments of what happened next: the lull of the morning fields, the springy cotton flanks of the sheep, the suddenness of the tumble down the deep hole in which he would spend the night, alone, gazing up at the puzzled sheep, and hours later, Mother Vera's thoughtful, dawn-lit face hovering over the mouth of the hole. ~ Tea Obreht

Her quickened breath was the very affirmation of life. ~ William Gay

Love Sorrow

Love sorrow. She is yours now, and you must
take care of what has been
given. Brush her hair, help her
into her little coat, hold her hand,
especially when crossing a street. For, think,

what if you should lose her? Then you would be
sorrow yourself; her drawn face, her sleeplessness
would be yours. Take care, touch
her forehead that she feel herself not so

utterly alone. And smile, that she does not
altogether forget the world before the lesson.
Have patience in abundance. And do not
ever lie or ever leave her even for a moment

by herself, which is to say, possibly, again,
abandoned. She is strange, mute, difficult,
sometimes unmanageable but, remember, she is a child.
And amazing things can happen. And you may see,

as the two of you go
walking together in the morning light, how
little by little she relaxes; she looks about her;
she begins to grow. ~ Mary Oliver

Slut Shaming
Misogyny is like a malignant virus, the way it seeps into your life and puts you in a position of painful vulnerability. Where even the people who love you will judge you for your past. Where the act of sex degrades a woman and celebrates a man. The infuriating double standard where a man will admire a girl in a string bikini, and in the same breath, tell his partner that her skirt is too short ~ Lang Leav

And she shrieked when she was lifted up and set carefully on her feet. "Are you hurt?" Richard asked anxiously. "I was just checking the floor," she said, trying to catch her breath. "You scared me to death." "You frightened me to death," he countered. "Don't just lie down thusly without warning!" "By the saints, Richard" Kendrick said with a laugh from behind Richard, "let the girl be. You'll smother her with all that mother-henning. ~ Lynn Kurland

Please do not leave me, he thought. He could not bear a world without Alli. He realized how much he relied on her from morning until night. She was his only conversation. His only smile. She prepared their meager food and always offered it to him first, even though he insisted she eat before he did. THey leaned on each other at sunsets. Holding her as they slept felt like his last connection to humanity. ~ Mitch Albom

meant us," she whispered. "I destroyed us." His fingers tightened against her cheek. "I'm not destroyed." Her breath stopped. "I'm scarred." He withdrew his hand and closed it carefully into a fist at his side. Again it slid in search of a pocket, but found none in which to bury itself. "I'm battered. But I'm still standing, Kai. ~ Laura Florand

This morning did you wake up to an alarm clock or an opportunity clock? ~ Zig Ziglar

Remember the darkness is never as permanent as it seems and find your path by being grateful for the next breath. ~ K.J. Kilton

Leda was very still, and very small, as Watt slid into the bed and curled around her. He listened to the ragged rise and fall of her breath. There was an excited nervousness spiking up and down her body, and Watt knew that he was the cause of it, and he realized he was glad.
She turned around to face him, so they were both lying on their sides, twin silhouettes in the darkness. The only thing that separated them was a shaft of moonlight slicing through the open window. Still, Watt waited. ~ Katharine McGee

Hardly had the light been extinguished, when a peculiar trembling began
to affect the netting under which the three children lay.

It consisted of a multitude of dull scratches which produced a metallic
sound, as if claws and teeth were gnawing at the copper wire. This was
accompanied by all sorts of little piercing cries.

The little five-year-old boy, on hearing this hubbub overhead, and
chilled with terror, jogged his brother's elbow; but the elder brother
had already shut his peepers, as Gavroche had ordered. Then the little
one, who could no longer control his terror, questioned Gavroche, but in
a very low tone, and with bated breath:--

"Sir?"

"Hey?" said Gavroche, who had just closed his eyes.

"What is that?"

"It's the rats," replied Gavroche.

And he laid his head down on the mat again.

The rats, in fact, who swarmed by thousands in the carcass of the
elephant, and who were the living black spots which we have already
mentioned, had been held in awe by the flame of the candle, so long as
it had been lighted; but as soon as the cavern, which was the same
as their city, had returned to darkness, scenting what the good
story-teller Perrault calls "fresh meat," they had hurled themselves in
throngs on Gavroche's tent, had climbed to the top of it, and had begun
to bite the meshes as though seeking to pierce this new-fang ~ Victor Hugo

This love was a torment, and he resented bitterly the subjugation in which it held him; he was a prisoner and he longed for freedom.
Sometimes he awoke in the morning and felt nothing; his soul leaped, for he thought he was free; he loved no longer; but in a little while, as he grew wide awake, the pain settled in his heart, and he knew that he was not cured yet. ~ W. Somerset Maugham

Astonish me in the morning! ~ Tyrone Guthrie

I'm sorry I could never see myself out
of the twitching fever of my heartache,
that I traded everything we had for
something that never ended up being.
But if I could take anything back, it wouldn't be
the glittering hope I stuck in the amber of your eyes,
or the sweet eager of our conversations.
No, it would be that last stony path to nothing,
when we both gave up without telling the other.
How silence arrived like a returned valentine
on that morning
we finally taught our phones not to ring. ~ Cristin O'Keefe Aptowicz

You get up and, first thing in the morning, you do your 500 words. Do it every day and you've got a book in eight or nine months. ~ Vaclav Smil

That's why when Peter started talking to me in homeroom this morning, i soaked up his attention like a doughnut dipped in coffee. The fact that his comments have left me soggy and wilted doesn't matter. That's the price you pay when you withdraw to the safety of anonymity ~ Randa Abdel-Fattah

We can have ethics and we can have honor and we can have loyalty," he insisted, "and every other key virtue we learned as humans." He was roaring at me under his breath, as the British so often do it, with a veneer of silvery politeness. ~ Anne Rice

There was her face, like a summer peach, beautiful and warm, and the light of the candles reflected in her dark eyes. [He] held his breath. The entire world waited and held its breath. ~ Ray Bradbury

It's been open about a year now.And it is one of my favorite places in the city."
"You never told me," he said, sounding surprised.
"So even after all these years,we can still surprise one another," she teased.
He leaned over and kissed her quickly on the cheek. "Even after all these years," he said. "So enlighten me-how often do you come to this place?"
"Five,maybe six times a week."
"Oh?"
"Every morning when I'd leave the shop,I'd usually walk down to the Embarcadero,amble along the promenade and end up walking the length of this pier.Where did you think I was for that hour?"
"I thought you'd popped across the road for coffee."
"Yea,Nicholas," Perenelle said in French. "I drink tea. You know I hate coffee."
"You hate coffee?" Nicholas said. "Since when?"
"Only for the last eighty years or so."
Nicholas blinked,pale eyes reflecting the blue of the sea. "I knew that.I think."
"You're teasing me."
"Maybe," he admitted. ~ Michael Scott

He lowered his head until his breath warmed my lips. "But here's my warning for you: I need you tonight. Don't run." He pulled hi head back, his eyes searching mine. "Please don't run. ~ Tijan

the toilet is an intimacy
only shared with parents when you are young
and once again when they are older
and with lovers when say on a Sunday
morning stretching into the bathroom
you wake to the sound of stream into bowl
and go to hug the naked body
stood with its back to you and kiss the neck
and taste the whole of the night on there
and smell the morning's pale yellow loss
and take the whole of him in your hand
and feel the water moving through him
and knowing that this is love the prone flesh
what we expel from the body and what we let inside ~ Andrew McMillan

Why wish for the privilege of living your past life again? You begin a new one every morning ~ Robert Quillen

Some people
Never find the right kind of love
you know, the kind that steals
your breath away.
Like diving into a snowmelt.
The kind that jolts your heart,
sets it beating apace.
An anxious hiccuping of hummingbirds wings.
The kind that makes every terrible minute apart feel like hours.
Days.
Years.
Some people flit from one insane possibility to the next.
Never experincing the connection of two people.
rocked by destiny.
Never knowing what it means to love someone else,
more than themselves.
More than life itself, or the promise of something better.
Beyond this world,
More even (forgive me!) than god.
Lucky me, I found the right kind of love.
With the wrong person. ~ Ellen Hopkins

Text from Aiden to Keatyn:
Hottie God: Good morning, beautiful. I miss sleeping with you. Hottie God: And waking up with you. Hottie God: I just miss you. ~ Jillian Dodd

Big words do not smite like war-clubs, Boastful breath is not a bow-string, Taunts are not so sharp as arrows, Deeds are better things than words are, Actions mightier than boastings. ~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Getting up in the morning and loving what you do is a dream come true. ~ Elie Tahari

My corps of attorneys will contact you in the morning wherever it is that you carry on your questionable activities. I shall warn them beforehand that they may expect to see and hear anything. They are all brilliant attorneys, pillars of the community, aristocratic Creole scholars whose knowledge of the more surreptitious forms of living is quite limited. They may even refuse to see you. A considerably lesser representative may be sent to call upon you, some junior partner whom they've taken in out of pity. ~ John Kennedy Toole

But he had never seen Myrna in practice...never that close up. He had been impressed and a little frightened by the contrast between seeing ballet on stange, where everyone seemed to either glide or mince effortlessly on the tips of their pointes. and seeing it from less than five feet away, with harsh daylight pouring in the floor-to-ceiling windows and no music- only the choreographer rythmically clapping his hands and yelling harsh criticisms. No praise, only criticisms. Their faces ran with sweat. Their leotards were wet with sweat. The room, as large and airy as it way, stank of sweat. Sleek muscles trembled and fluttered on the nervous edge of exhaustion. Corded tendons stood out like insulated cables. Throbbing veins popped out on foreheads and necks. Except for the choreographer's clapping and angry, hectoring shouts, the only sounds were the thrup-thud of ballet dancers on pointe moving across the floor and harsh, agonized panting for breath. Jack had suddenly realized that these dancers were not just earning a living, they were killing themselves. Most of all he remembered their expressions- all that exhausted concentration, all that pain... but transcending the pain, or at least creeping around its edges, he had seen joy. Joy was unmistakably what that look was, and it scared Jack because it had seemed inexplicable. ~ Stephen King

If I describe a sunny morning in May (the buds, the wet-winged flies, the warm sun and cool breeze), I am also implying the perishing quality of a morning in May, and a good description of May sets up the possibility of a May disaster. ~ Clark Blaise

Hymn

He sendeth sun, he sendeth shower,
Alike they're needful for the flower:
And joys and tears alike are sent
To give the soul fit nourishment.
As comes to me or cloud or sun,
Father! thy will, not mine, be done!
Can loving children e'er reprove
With murmurs whom they trust and love?
Creator! I would ever be
A trusting, loving child to thee:
As comes to me or cloud or sun,
Father! thy will, not mine, be done!
Oh, ne'er will I at life repine:
Enough that thou hast made it mine.
When falls the shadow cold of death
I yet will sing, with parting breath,
As comes to me or shade or sun,
Father! thy will, not mine, be done! ~ Sarah Fuller Flower Adams

When the September 11th attacks happened, only about a year later, the crypto community was holding its breath because here was a time when we just had an absolutely horrific terrorist attack on U.S. soil, and if the NSA and the FBI were unhappy with anything, Congress was ready to pass any law they wanted. The PATRIOT Act got pushed through very, very quickly with bipartisan support and very, very little debate, yet it didn't include anything about encryption. ~ Matt Blaze

The regular early morning yell of horror was the sound of Arthur Dent waking up and suddenly remembering where he was ~ Douglas Adams

It was the red vision of the revolution, which would one day inevitably carry them all away, on some bloody evening at the end of the century. Yes, some evening the people, unbridled at last, would thus gallop along the roads, making the blood of the middle class flow, parading severed heads and sprinkling gold from disembowelled coffers. The women would yell, the men would have those wolf-like jaws open to bite. Yes, the same rags, the same thunder of great sabots, the same terrible troop, with dirty skins and tainted breath, sweeping away the old world beneath an overflowing flood of barbarians. ~ Emile Zola

A critical faculty is a terrible thing. When I was eleven there were no bad films, just films I didn't want to see, there was no bad food, just Brussels sprouts and cabbage, and there were no bad books - everything I read was great. Then suddenly, I woke up in the morning and all that had changed. How could my sister not hear that David Cassidy was not in the same class as Black Sabbath? Why on EARTH would my English teacher think that 'The History of Mr Polly' was better than 'Ten Little Indians' by Agatha Christie? And from that moment on, enjoyment has been a much more elusive quality. ~ Nick Hornby

Try your breath on the bones of everything that has them, remember the best songs and figure out how to write them down so when somebody's blowing on your bones, the songs keep on. ~ Catherynne M Valente

Cautiously, slowly, and hoping that God was too busy with other things to notice, our logic and lust would unravel quilts of Sunday morning sermons, catechism lessons, confessional admonitions, and parental warnings.
Such apprehensive behavior would often overflow into other activities. A devout Catholic would never completely open his Christmas gifts until August. Catholics also did very well on bomb squads.
By the time we got through all the wrappings, we would often discover that our virginity had simply melted away. Ask a non-Catholic when they lost their virginity and they recall a specific moment. Ask a Catholic the same question and they begin counting the years on their fingers. ~ John R. Powers

Live life as though nobody is watching, and express yourself as though everyone is listening. ~ Nelson Mandela