Quotes & Sayings About Feeling Smothered

Some day you will look back on these days as the happiest of your life. You will forget your financial struggles. You will forget the unfair division of duties. You will forget feeling trapped and smothered, imagining that you are in a loveless marriage. You will only remember the joy of a young family, working together making your way through an unfamiliar world. Appreciate what you have now.
pg vi — Michael Ben Zehabe

I write in praise of the solitary act: of not feeling a trespassing tongue forced into one's mouth, one's breath smothered, nipples crushed against the ribcage, and that metallic tingling in the chin set off by a certain odd nerve: unpleasure. — Fleur Adcock

I love Nashville, and I love the South, but on a professional level, I had started feeling smothered by the Nashville way of doing things. — Deana Carter

Oh, island, I adore you, but I hate you, too! You're a prison smothered in flowers, I've never been more eager to leave a place behind. I can't stand this enchantment anymore, I can't stand being bewitched like this- when I look at you, my gaze turns to nothing but a mirror of light, I'll stare at you hypnotized for ages, and when I stop I'll feel you, and when I stop feeling you I'll die. I have such a craving for ugliness and filth, for cities, streets, cars, I want to wake up in the morning and wait at a red light to cross the street. — Margarita Karapanou

Have not many of us, in the weary way of life, felt, in some hours, how far easier it were to die than to live?
The martyr, when faced even by a death of bodily anguish and horror, finds in the very terror of his doom a strong stimulant and tonic. There is a vivid excitement, a thrill and fervor, which may carry through any crisis of suffering that is the birth-hour of eternal glory and rest.
But to live, to wear on, day after day, of mean, bitter, low, harassing servitude, every nerve dampened and depressed, every power of feeling gradually smothered, this long and wasting heart-martyrdom, this slow, daily bleeding away of the inward life, drop by drop, hour after hour, this is the true searching test of what there may be in man or woman. — Harriet Beecher Stowe

Unable to resist any longer, he buried his fingers in the hair at the base of her neck and angled her face upward. He leaned forward and dropped soft little kisses onto her lips, starting at the corner and working his way across until she began to stir. Her lashes flittered. "Gid - ?" He smothered her question with his kiss. No longer playful, he took her mouth fully, holding nothing back. She was no longer Adelaide Proctor, governess. She was Adelaide Westcott, wife. His wife. It didn't take long for her to recover from her surprise. She clasped his shoulder for support and stretched toward him. His pulse surged, and when she finally pulled away, he refused to let her separate from him completely. He rested his forehead against hers and listened to their ragged breaths echoing in the quiet morning. "Feeling better today, are we?" Adelaide asked as she lowered her head back down to her pillow, her face a becoming shade of pink. Gideon grinned. "A little. — Karen Witemeyer

Feeling had indeed smothered judgment that day. — Thomas Hardy

Public feeling now is apt to side with the persecuted, and our modern martyr is full as likely to be smothered with roses as with coals. — Edwin Hubbel Chapin