Riuz Heavy Quotes

He went into the kitchen. It was eight in the evening. He tried to shut the bright spring evening out with the curtains, but it forced its way past them in places, dust-filled sunbeams that lit up the gloom in his flat. Spring and summer were not Erlendur's seasons. Too bright. Too frivolous. He wanted heavy, dark winters. Finding nothing edible in the kitchen, he sat down at the table with his chin resting in his hand. ~ Arnaldur Indridason

Everything in the room is like that: unnecessarily solid, abnormally heavy and dangerously sharp. ~ Christopher Isherwood

Freedom is heavy. You got to put your shoulder to freedom. Put your shoulder to it and hope your back holds up. ~ August Wilson

His last words hung in the air, their gravity slowly sinking in. After a few heavy moments, I spoke. "Then what hope is there for us, David?" David smiled reassuringly. "Only the grace of God." "But why would He give me His grace?" "Because He loves you." "Why would He love me, a sinner?" "Because He's your Father." David's words hit me powerfully. I had heard Christians call God "Father," but it never clicked. Only when trying to figure out why God would give me mercy and grace when I deserved none did the gears start turning. ~ Nabeel Qureshi

That evening he plays with the children, cleans the hamster's cage with them, gets them into their pyjamas, and reads to them three times over, once together, then to Jake on his own, then to Naomi. It is at times like these that his life makes sense. How soothing it is, the scent of clean bedlinen and minty toothpaste breath, and his children's eagerness to hear the adventures of imaginary beings, and how touching, to watch the children's eyes grow heavy as they struggle to hang on to the priceless last minutes of their day, and finally fail. ~ Ian McEwan

The phone rang and Chassie excused herself to answer it. Silence hung between them as heavy as snow clouds in a winter sky.

Eventually, Edgard said, "She doesn't know anything about me. Not even that we were roping partners. Not that we were..."

He looked at Trevor expectantly.
"No." Trevor quickly glanced at the living room where Chassie was chattering away. "You surprised?"

"Maybe that she isn't aware of our official association as roping partners. There was no shame in that. We were damn good together, Trev." The word shame echoed like a slap. As good as they were together, it'd never been enough, in an official capacity or behind closed doors.
"What are you really doin' here?"
Edgard didn't answer right away. "I don't know. Feeling restless. Had the urge to travel."
"Wyoming ain't exactly an exotic port of call." "You think I don't realize that? You think I wouldn't rather be someplace else? But something..." Edgard lowered his voice. "Ah, fuck it."
"What?"
"Want the truth? Or would you rather I lie?" "The truth."
"Truth between us? That's refreshing."
Edgard's gaze trapped his. "I'm here because of you."

Trevor's heart alternately stopped and soared, even when his answer was an indiscernible growl. "For Christsake, Ed. What the hell am I supposed to say to that? With my wife in the next room?"

"You're making a big deal out of this. She thinks we're friends, which ai ~ Liz Andrews

Spring time in Florida is not a matter of peeping violets or bursting buds merely. It is a riot of color, in nature - glistening green leaves, pink, blue, purple, yellow blossoms that fairly stagger the visitor from the north. The miles of hyacinths are like an undulating carpet on the surface of the river and divide reluctantly when the slow-moving alligators push their way log-like across. The nights are white nights as the moon shines with dazzling splendor, or in the absence of that goddess, the soft darkness creeps down laden with innumerable scents. The heavy fragrance of magnolias mingled with the delicate sweetness of jasmine and wild roses. ~ Zora Neale Hurston

I think I've written 40 books, and none of them have been heavy on action. I'm an introspective person. ~ Lois Lowry

Every secret of a writers soul, every experience of his life, every quality of his mind, is written large in his works - Virginia Woolf ~ Tracie Podger

Kevin gestured feebly to Neil, so Neil pressed the bandage back into place over swollen, reddened skin. Neil dropped his hand back to his side and clenched his fingers into a fist to hide the excited tremor. He doubted either Kevin or Andrew noticed; they were too busy staring each other down. At length Andrew smiled, slow and cold. It was the first time he'd smiled since coming off his drugs, and Neil couldn't help but stare.
"Now it's getting fun," Andrew said.
"Finally," Kevin said, equal parts exhaustion and exasperation. It took both of them to get
...Neil felt completely recharged as he stared up at Kevin's bunk. He was unsteady on his feet, too buzzed to stand still. The darkness should have hidden the jittery wreck he'd become, but Andrew wasn't fooled. He jabbed Neil's shoulder on his way back out of the room. Neil tore his gaze away from Kevin's unconscious form and followed. Andrew pushed him up against the wall with heavy hands and hard kisses.
"Junkie."
"I've been waiting for that since June," Neil said. "You've been waiting longer." Andrew didn't bother denying it. ~ Nora Sakavic

I don't think I could tell the whole truth about anything. That's a pretty heavy burden, because we all just view the world through this little piece of coke bottle. ~ Jeff Melvoin

Always been a big heavy metal fan. I remember being 15 saying, Dude I'm going to love heavy metal forever. Heavy metal til I'm 60. I'm 35 now. I think I'm going to give it one more year. ~ Brian Posehn

Bedsprings creaking, headboard banging, heavy breathing in triplicate (the bedroom sounds like a convention of asthmatic dirty phone callers have gathered there) ~ Gillibran Brown

She stiffened and gasped, and the touch was immediately withdrawn.
"Did I hurt you?"
Her lashes lifted. "No," she said in wonder. "In fact, I didn't feel any pain." She strained to look between them. "Is there blood? Perhaps I should-"
"No. Win..." There was a near-comical expression of dismay on his face. "What I just did isn't going to cause pain or blood." A brief pause. "When I do it with my cock, however, it's probably going to hurt like hell."
"Oh." She pondered that for a moment. "Is that the word men use for their private parts?"
"One of the words gadjos use."
"What do Romas say?"
"They call it a kori."
"What does that mean?"
"'Thorn.'"
Win slid a bashful glance at the heavy protrusion straining behind his trousers. "Rather too substantial for a thorn. I should have thought they would use a more fitting word. But I suppose-" She inhaled sharply as his hand moved downward. "I suppose if one wants roses, one must-" his finger had slipped inside her again- "bear the occasional thorn."
"Very philosophical. ~ Lisa Kleypas

Later, we lie together in the half dark, no longer cold, no longer awkward. The torch is dimming as the wind billows against the fabric of the tent, noisy and heavy with spray from the sea, but nothing can touch us in here, no force of nature but time. ~ Suki Fleet

The castle is situated at the terminus of a long and upward-winding mountain road. It presents a somewhat forbidding aspect to the world, for there is little about it to suggest gaiety or warmth or any of those qualities that might assure a wayfarer of welcome. Rather, this vast edifice of stone exudes an austerity, cold and repellent, a hint of ancient mysteries long buried, an effluvium of medieval dankness and decay. At night, and most particularly on nights when the moon is slim or cloud-enshrouded, it is a heavy blot upon the horizon, a shadow only, without feature save for its many-turreted outline; and should the moon be temporarily released from her cloudy confinement, her fugitive rays lend scant comfort, for they but serve to throw the castle into sudden, startling chiaroscuro, its windows fleetingly assuming the appearance of sightless though all-seeing orbs, its portcullis becoming for an instant a gaping mouth, its entire form striking the physical and the mental eye as would the sight of a giant skull. ~ Ray Russell

And I came home
 Like a stone 
And I fell heavy into your arms
 These days of darkness
 which we've known
Will blow away with this new sun

 And I'll kneel down
wait for now
 And I'll kneel down 
know my ground 

And I will wait I will wait for you 
And I will wait I will wait for you ~ Mumford And Sons

I believe international work is a heavy task, but that it is nevertheless indispensable to go through an apprenticeship in it, at the cost of many efforts and also of a real spirit of sacrifice: however imperfect it may be, the work of Geneva has a grandeur that deserves our support. ~ Marie Curie

He'd shut the door on the subject of loss, thrown all the bolts, and shoved a heavy table up against it for good measure. ~ Cecilia Grant

The best indication is that I still love to ski on most anything, from skating gear to heavy metal. ~ Paul Parker

I half expected cathedral bells to ring out across the city in memoriam, a carillon of joyous bells that said Someone is free at last, and simultaneously a monody of heavy bells, iron bells, as solemn as those rung for heroes and for statesmen, bells that said He is gone who was much loved. But the night was empty of all bells. There were no bells for such as us, no funerals, no crowd of mourners around our graves. ~ Dean Koontz

With each word that passes my lips, I feel less heavy. It is as if I am giving him sentences made of stones, and the more I relay, the more of the burden he is carrying. ~ Jodi Picoult

Robert Kohlenberg, a professor of psychology, once thought that depression and anxiety were different things. But as he studied it, he discovered that "the data are indicating they're not that distinct." Depression and anxiety overlap. I started to see depression and anxiety as cover versions of the same song by different bands. Depression is a cover version by a downbeat emo band, and anxiety is a cover version by a screaming heavy metal group, but the underlying sheet music is the same. They're not identical, but they are twinned. ~ Johann Hari

Mrs. Bostwick's face was heavy and lethargic, without any strength or delicacy, and it bore the deep marks of what must have been a habitual dissatisfaction. ~ John Edward Williams

There are methods to creating a mayhem that sounds different from your usual mayhem. Because mayhem and a heavy drum backbeat end up sounding like Green Day or something. But if you put a different beat within it to create some air and lightness, the chaos comes through better. ~ Nick Cave

It's not the type of work you can put on a business card.
I sometimes play the game with myself, though. What would I put on a business card?
Jill Kismet, Exorcist. Maybe on a nice heavy cream-colored card stock, with a good font. Not pretentious, just something tasteful. Garamond, maybe, or Book Antiqua. In bold. Or one of those old-fashioned fonts, but no frilly Edwardian script.
Of course, there's slogans to be taken into account. Jill Kismet, Dealer in Dark Things. Spiritual Exterminator. Slayer of Hell's Minions. ~ Lilith Saintcrow

It is manifestly pregnant and has a bulging white belly heavy with its load of kittens. ~ Kobo Abe

There comes a time for healing
no matter how broken you are right now;
no matter how heavy your heart is right now.
There comes a time when you will go outside
and let the sun shine on your face
and let the wind touch your hair
and you will not be tired by just simply being awake.
There comes a time when you will be happy to be alive again
and that day you will appreciate your own being
because now you know the other side.
Now you know the opposite.
Now you know what it's like to not be sure if you really are; who
you really are;
if you simply are, anymore.
And that day
will be the beginning of everything. ~ Charlotte Eriksson

Your love is a terrible thing," November says. "It sits heavy. It stings. It cuts."
She shrugs. "I am Casimira."
"I don't know if I can bear it."
"I would not have chosen you if you could not. You will get stronger. You will grow calluses. ~ Catherynne M Valente

Lydia, five years old, standing on tiptoe to watch vinegar and baking soda foam in the sink. Lydia tugging a heavy book from the shelf, saying, "Show me again, show me another." Lydia, touching the stethoscope, ever so gently, to her mother's heart. Tears blur Marilyn's sight. It had not been science that Lydia had loved ~ Celeste Ng