Feeling Rough Quotes & Sayings

Whether we're seeking inner peace or global peace or a combination of the two, the way to experience it is to build on the foundation of unconditional openness to all that arises. Peace isn't an experience free of challenges, free of rough and smooth, it's an experience that's expansive enough to include all that arises without feeling threatened. — Pema Chodron

He also said that I would never get an apology out of you." There was a long pause. "I want one. Now."
Xcor put aside his soup and found himself searching the wounds he had given himself, recalling all that pain, all that blood - which had dried brown on the floorboards beneath him.
"And then what," he said in a rough voice.
"You'll have to find out."
Fair enough, Xcor thought.
Without grace - not that he had any, anyway - he rose to his feet. At his full height, he was unsteady for too many reasons to count, and the off-balance feeling got even worse as he met the eyes of his ... friend.
Looking Throe in the face, he stepped up and put out his palm. "I am sorry."
Three simple words spoken loud and clear. And they didn't go nearly far enough.
"I was wrong to treat you as I did. I am ... not as much of the Bloodletter as I thought - as I have e'er wanted to be. — J.R. Ward

PR *is* a shrewd, rough game. It's learning to psychologically manipulate, play on people's greed and vanity. Convincing a target audience to buy products and services they neither need nor want. Profiting from making them spend hard-earned money and feeling happy about doing it. Smiling as they empty their wallets. It's devious exploitation, taking advantage of the human psyche, and I'm good at it. Very good. — Graham Diamond

The Romans, accordingly, admiring the prudence and virtues of Numa, assented to all the measures which he recommended. This, however, is to be said, that the circumstance of these times being deeply tinctured with religious feeling, and of the men with whom he had to deal being rude and ignorant, gave Numa better facility to carry out his plans, as enabling him to mould his subjects readily to any new impression. And, doubtless, he who should seek at the present day to form a new commonwealth, would find the task easier among a race of simple mountaineers, than among the dwellers in cities where society is corrupt; as the sculptor can more easily carve a fair statue from a rough block, than from the block which has been badly shaped out by another. — Niccolo Machiavelli

I could imagine his sorrow. My father had a sensual relationship with his books. He loved feeling them, stroking them, sniffing them. He took a physical pleasure in books: he could not stop himself, he had to reach out and touch them, even other people's books. And books then really were sexier than books today: they were good to sniff and stroke and fondle. There were books with gold writing on fragrant, slightly rough leather bindings, that gave you gooseflesh when you touched them, as though you were groping something private and inaccessible, something that seemed to tremble at your touch. And there were other books that were bound in cloth-covered cardboard, stuck with a glue that had a wonderful smell. Every book had its own private, provocative scent. Sometimes the cloth came away from the cardboard, like a saucy skirt, and it was hard to resist the temptation to peep into the dark space between body and clothing and sniff those dizzying smells. Father would generally return — Amos Oz

Sweet Evelyn, I think, I should have loved you better.
Possessing perfect knowledge I hover above him as he hacks me to bits. I see his rough childhood. I see his mother doing something horrid to him with a broomstick. I see the hate in his heart and the people he had yet to kill before pneumonia gets him at eighty-three. I see the dead kid's mom unable to sleep, pounding her fists against her face in grief at the moment I was burying her son's hand. I see the pain I've caused. I see the man I could have been, and the man I was, and then everything is bright and new and keen with love and I sweep through Sam's body, trying to change him, trying so hard, and feeling only hate and hate, solid as stone. — George Saunders

The harder you slam a ball into the ground, the higher it bounces back up ... A divorce, a breakup, losing a job, or just feeling seriously down can ground you, rough you up a bit, leave calluses on your feet and grit under your finger nails. But more than that, it leaves you wiser and stronger next time ... Life is about experiencing opposites isn't it? — Laurel House

The old oak, utterly transformed, draped in a tent of sappy dark green, basked faintly, undulating in the rays of the evening sun. Of the knotted fingers, the gnarled excrecenses, the aged grief and mistrust- nothing was to be seen. Through the rough, century-old bark, where there were no twigs, leaves had burst out so sappy, so young, that is was hard to believe that the aged creature had borne them. "Yes, that is the same tree," thought Prince Andrey, and all at once there came upon him an irrational, spring feeling of joy and renewal. All the best moments of his life rose to his memory at once. Austerlitz, with that lofty sky, and the dead, reproachful face of his wife, and Pierre on the ferry, and the girl, thrilled by the beauty of the night, and that night and that moon- it all rushed at once into his mind. — Leo Tolstoy

As many times as I want," Drake told her, voice rough and dark. "Until you can't breathe without feeling me on every inch of your body. — Cynthia Eden

The neighborhood is pretty rough." I rubbed the hair on the back of my neck feeling a little ashamed about that. We tried to keep it as clean as we could but we weren't saints.
"I'm starting to gather that. Thanks, Clay. Night."
"Night."
"You got it bad man. — Shandy L. Kurth

Dan's voice was rough and low as he murmured against Vadim's lips. 'I hate you, Russkie.' No. He didn't, but he couldn't find the right word for this. This feeling. Hatred was the closest he could get. The alternative was still unthinkable. — Aleksandr Voinov

Together? " Rose asked. "Are we -- together ?"

He took one of her hands--it seemed so small and fragile in his own large, rough hand. Her porcelain skin looked even paler against his.

" Ever since I first laid eyes on you, I knew that I had to make you my woman , It was a feeling that was stronger than anything I have ever known before, and I am a man who goes after what he wants." He pulled her close to him and let his gaze meet hers, as he added, " And, my Wild Rose , I want you. — Veronica Blake

Being a troll, he loved the earth. A troll's love for the earth is a peculiar thing - it is something like the way you and I love our parents and our dogs and our favorite novels and the stuffed rabbits we have had since we were in our cradles and the very best thing we have ever done with our own two hands, all smashed up together in a rough, enormous ball of feeling the size of a planet. — Catherynne M Valente

Dave once asked me what blind people dream about. Mostly in sound and feeling, I replied. At night I fall in love with a voice, and then wake to a feeling of physical loss. Sometimes I close my eyes to a chorus of "Happy Birthday!" The smell of cake and the sound of feet under the table. I awake in a body that's too big. I also dream in motion and sensation. My father's boat and the snore of the mast; the rough fabric of the safety harness and the rip of Velcro. The sun on my legs. And endless stretch of water impossible to imagine. — Simon Van Booy

It's okay, Jasper. I, above all, know what you are feeling now. But this will be different. We're stronger now. We will find her. Adam gave him a rough hug before he left the shop. The sound of a car outside signaled the arrival of his brothers. Time to kick ass and find his mate. — Carrie Ann Ryan

Having a rough time on the trail is not the same as the irredeemable frustrations of urban life, such as being stuck in traffic or wading through a crowded store. Difficulty on the trail, like this long and rainy day, is usually reflected upon fondly. There is the soothing, rhythmic beat of rainfall, the feeling that the woods are being washed and rejuvenated, the odors of the woods awakened by moisture. There is appreciation for the most simple of things, such as a flat and dry piece of ground and something warm to eat. There is satisfaction in having endured hardship, pride in being able to do for myself in the outdoors. There is strength in knowing I can do it again tomorrow. — David Miller

Willow, you know that you said you couldn't tell how I felt at the rest stop?"
I nodded, and he took my hand, laying it flat on his chest with his own resting over it. "Can you tell now?" he asked.
His heart beat firmly under my hand; my own pulse was pounding so hard that I could barely think straight. Closing my eyes, I took a deep, steadying breath, and then another as I tried to clear my mind, to feel what he was feeling. For a moment there was just the softness of our breathing
then all at once it washed over me in a great wave.
He was in love with me, too.
I opened my eyes. Alex was still holding my hand to his chest, watching me, his expression more serious than I'd ever seen it. Unable to speak, I slowly dropped my hand and wrapped my arms around him. His own arms came around me as he rested his head on my hair.
"I really do, you know," he said, his voice rough.
"I know," I whispered back. "I do, too. — L.A. Weatherly

As an adult I have often known that peculiar legacy time brings to the traveler: the longing to seek out a place a second time, to find deliberately what we stumbled on once before, to recapture the feeling of discovery. Sometimes we search out again even a place that was not remarkable itself - we look for it simply because we remember it. If we do find it, of course, everything is different. The rough-hewn door is still there, but it's much smaller; the day is cloudy instead of brilliant; it's spring instead of autumn; we're alone instead of with three friends. Or worse, with three friends instead of alone. — Elizabeth Kostova

I have a distinct feeling I've missed something rather spectacular," he said. His voice was a little rough, and he cleared it before adding, "That, and I'm incredibly hungry."
"Oh!" Ceony said, pushing past Fennel to the bread box. "I can make you something. Sit down. Do you like cucumbers? But of course you do . . . They're your cucumbers."
He quirked an eyebrow, but his eyes still grinned, and the sentiment even reflected in the tilt of his lips. "I believe I'm well enough to make my own sandwich, Ceony. — Charlie N. Holmberg

He was fairly drunk, and feeling melancholy about all the sinking he had done in the world. Throughout the rough years the Greek alphabet had leaked out of his mind a letter at a time - in fact, the candle of knowledge he had set out with had burned down to a sorry stub. — Larry McMurtry

The hotel which had had the bad luck to draw Aunt Agatha's custom was the Splendide, and by the time I got there there wasn't a member of the staff who didn't seem to be feeling it deeply. I sympathized with them. I've had experience of Aunt Agatha at hotels before. Of course, the real rough work was all over when I arrived, but I could tell by the way everyone grovelled before her that she had started by having her first room changed because it hadn't a southern exposure and her next because it had a creaking wardrobe and that she had said her say on the subject of the cooking, the waiting, the chambermaiding and everything else, with perfect freedom and candour. She had got the whole gang nicely under control by now. The manager, a whiskered cove who looked like a bandit, simply tied himself into knots whenever she looked at him. — P.G. Wodehouse

After God, who is the central core pillar to any Christian marriage, there are four important marital relationship foundations. These are:

* Self-Esteem - if you don't love yourself you will find it almost impossible to accept love from others.

* Friendship - a strong friendship will sustain your marriage even when feelings of love are harder to find.

* Laughter - it will improve your quality of life, your health and your relationships

* Romance - feeling close to your partner can be the glue which holds your relationship together through the rough patches, but the absence of romance causes a void that problems will easily fill. — Karen M Gray

The problem with thick skin is that it leaves you impervious to the sharpest of pins. Everything becomes dull. But without that sense of pain, there cannot be that sense of relief. Ultimately, the thickened skin leaves you numb, incapable of feeling the highs and lows of life. It leaves you rough like a rock and just as inanimate. — Michael Soll

Finding a woman like that amidst the herd of half-feeling, half-caring, half-responding, females in our society of 1860's England was not so much like finding a diamond in the rough as it was finding a warm responsive body amidst the cold dead forms on slabs in the Paris morgue that Dickens had so enjoyed taking me to. — Dan Simmons

You're like Marilyn Monroe,' Ken tells me, which I take as a compliment and say a nervous "Thank You". Interrupting, he adds, 'You're all velvet and Velcro. Men want you because you're sexy and broken and when it gets too rough they can say "Hey! This toy is broken!" and toss you aside without feeling bad. — Emma Forrest

I WANNA GET ROUGH!"
"I NEED TO GET ROWDY!"
"I'M FEELING KINDA RECKLESS! — Kimball Lee

Once upon a raindrop, I landed on Depression. My umbrella broke and broke me with it's bones. It hurt but didn't, and it eased my rain. Curious a little afraid, I tried it once again. Bitter feeling, my starburst shrunk with fear. Sadness filled me up and now I'm here. Repeat, repeat, feeling numb and blue. Cutting became my flight from Depression to Okay and I pushed through. Though a bad solution, it became the one. It's lasted years, it's never done. Once upon a raindrop, I smile and blink a tear. Sometimes my plane flies me back to Depression and cutting then appears. I try and try to stop, but I always round the bend. I can stay on Okay for months, but then I reach an end. It's been a rough road, maybe it will end. It's been a rough road, I know cutting's not my friend. So my starburst searches for solutions, not sure which to choose. And once upon a raindrop, I might land in Happy's shoes. — Alysha Speer

Hell..." His voice was thick, rough. "Mallory, you're..."
"What?" I whispered, feeling my body burn for two very different reasons.
"You're beautiful." His gaze dipped, tracking the lacy edges of the bra. "Never thought I'd see you like this. So freaking glad I have. You're so beautiful, Mallory. — Jennifer L. Armentrout

I always start drawing any job by planning out to some degree the locales and trying to nail the characters. If they're existing characters, I'll draw them several times on rough paper just to get a feeling for them. The ideal when you're drawing a comic is to have everything in your head, not to have to refer to notes. — Dave Gibbons

There was no way that these guys were going to let a bleeding, barefoot woman simply wander off alone into the streets. Two of them were already running toward her with hands reaching out in a manner that, in normal circumstances, would have seemed just plain ungentlemanly. What would have been designated, in a Western office, as a hostile environment was soon in full swing as numerous rough strong hands were all over her, easing her to a comfortable perch on a chair that was produced as if by magic, feeling through her hair to find bumps and lacerations. Three different first aid kits were broken open at her feet; older and wiser men began to lodge objections at the profligate use of supplies, darkly suggesting that it was all because she was a pretty girl. A particularly dashing young man skidded up to her on his knees (he was wearing hard-shell knee pads) and, in an attitude recalling the prince on the final page of Cinderella, fit a pair of used flip-flops onto her feet. — Neal Stephenson

She rubbed it onto his hands one day in Year Eleven, feeling the texture of his fingertips, callused by the strings of his guitar, and his palms, rough from woodwork. ("Productive, despite your lazy streak," she had said, inspecting them.) — Melina Marchetta

Wayne was awakened quite rough-like, in a manner unbefitting his grand dreams, in which he was king of the dogs. Had a crown shaped like a bowl and everything. He blinked his eyes, feeling nice and warm, and got hit with a blast of air. Drowsy, he remembered he was flying in some kind of rusting airship with a fellow what had no face. And that was almost as good as that dog thing. — Brandon Sanderson

She was unhappy. I'd made her unhappy. Making Jennifer unhappy was officially the worst feeling in the world, right up there with disappointing my brother Billy and seeing my sister cry.

So I blurted, "Have you ever done a cookiestand?"

She shook her head, sniffing, turning away from me to grab two cups.

"What's that?" Her voice was rough.

"It's like a keg stand, but with cookies."

Jenn's movements stilled. She blinked. A new frown formed, but this one was thoughtful, not miserable.

"You mean where those people do a handstand and drink beer?"

"That's right. But with cookies."

"That sounds awful."

"At least you don't get crumbs on your shirt." I bit into the third cookie.

"Yes, but," Jenn shook her head, a hesitant smile claiming her luscious lips, "then they'd go up your nose."

"That's the best part. You can save them for later. — Penny Reid

Tirelessly they flew on and on, and tirelessly she kept pace. She felt a fierce joy possessing her, that she could command these immortal presences. And she rejoiced in her blood and flesh, in the rough pine bark she felt next to her skin, in the beat of her heart and the life of all her senses, and in the hunger she was feeling now, and in the presence of her sweet-voiced bluethroat daemon, and in the earth below her and the lives of every creature, plant and animal both; and she delighted in being of the same substance as them, and in knowing that when she died her flesh would nourish other lives as they had nourished her. — Philip Pullman

Guenever began to breathe through her nose. She was feeling as if there were two red thumbs behind her eyeballs, trying to push them out, and she did not want to look at him. She was trying not to make a scene, and she dreaded her heart. She had shame and hatred of what she might say, but she could not help saying it. She was like a person swimming in a rough sea. — T.H. White

Kurt dreamt about more than the rough squeeze of James's hands over his jeans. He dreamt of the warmth of his tongue and a sharp bite from his teeth in sensitive places. He dreamt of taking it further, a thought that held more of the sharp edges of delicious reality than any previous fantasy. Finally, he'd dreamt of feeling James's arms around him as he slept, feeling at once safe and needed, as if every worry could be erased if the right person cared for him. — Sara Winters

Bram stared into a pair of wide, dark eyes. Eyes that reflected a surprising glimmer of intelligence. This might be the rare female a man could reason with.
"Now, then," he said. "We can do this the easy way, or we can make things difficult."
With a soft snort, she turned her head. It was as if he'd ceased to exist.
Bram shifted his weight to his good leg, feeling the stab to his pride. He was a lieutenant colonel in the British army, and at over six feet tall, he was said to cut an imposing figure. Typically, a pointed glance from his quarter would quell the slightest hint of disobedience. He was not accustomed to being ignored.
"Listen sharp, now." He gave her ear a rough tweak and sank his voice to a low threat. "If you know what's good for you, you'll do as I say."
Though she spoke not a word, her reply was clear: You can kiss my great wolly arse.
Confounded sheep. — Tessa Dare

As far as they're conserned, I've been kind of a poor second best all my life, or I don't qualify at all compared to my brother. It's rough being around them and feeling like you never measure up. Collin — Danielle Steel

face. She glided her fingers over the rough skin where his beard grew, feeling how real he was. Real, and with her in that past. — Lucian Bane

You didn't like him, did you, Dad?"
"It wasn't that I didn't like him," my dad says slowly. "It was just that he lives in a completely different world, and I worried that he didn't really approve of you the way you are, that he was trying to change you into something else."
God, I never realized my dad was that perceptive..
"You see, the thing is," he says after we've both sat for a while in the sunshine, "the thing is that love is really the most important thing. I know it's hard for you to see it now" - he chuckles quietly- "but when I first laid eyes on your mother I thought she was fantastic, and I've never stopped loving her, not for a second. Oh yes, we've had our rough patches, and she can be a bit of an old battle-ax at times, but I still love her. That in-love feeling at the beginning settles down into a different, familiar sort of love, but it has to be there right from the start, otherwise it just won't work. — Jane Green