Head Pounding Quotes & Sayings

All of us are a culmination of vital parts of our parents and their pasts. A vital part of the circumstances we were raised with. Everything that happens to us, good and bad, leaves a lasting impression in our souls. You take one part of that out, and you can completely rewrite something crucial about us. By and large, we're not shaped by the big things. It's the little day to day moments that make us who we are. Who we're going to be."
His head was pounding from trying to digest all of this.
"I'm so overwhelmed."
"Most of us are, Nick. Even though we look calm and peaceful on the outside, most of us are barely hanging on by our fingernails. — Sherrilyn Kenyon

Sam responded to my mental request, his leg tensing and relaxing, and then coming up against my sex, repeatedly, pounding, as I dropped onto him with furious desire. I pulled Sam to me, as I tensed every muscle in my body in one last spasm of agony, and found my glorious release. Then, I came a second time. I held Sam's head and kissed him, coming a third time as Sam slowed the motion of his leg, and I finally collapsed against him, breathing heavily, fully spent. — Simone Freier

Oh God, that hurts," she whimpered.
"What hurts?" Kye asked, sounding concerned.
"The invisible man pounding spikes into my head."
"That doesn't sound good. Maybe you should take out an invisible Taser gun and zap the son of a bitch. — Julie James

Waited for sleep, that gentle mockery of death, to take me. I longed for its effacing grace. But its peace eluded me, and I rose from the bed, my head pounding from the salty torrent of my tears and the ache deep in my stomach. — Rick Yancey

I bent over him and, before I could say anything, he grabbed me by the back of my head, dragged my mouth down and kissed me. Kissed me, with no drama and no explanation, like it was just something we did.
Knowing in a half-forgotten way that he kissed like a demon was one thing; experiencing it all over again was quite another. There was no refined seduction- Pritkin kissed openmouthed, hard and hungry, until I could hear nothing over the pounding of my heart, until I could taste my blood on his lips as his tongue thrust into me. — Karen Chance

I wondered how he'd learned to push the words away, to drown them, to not feel them pounding against his head and his heart, begging to be spoken. — Amy Harmon

What do you talk about to a murderer, and someone you loved, over a perfect dinner and cocktails? I wanted to know so many things, but I couldn't ask any of the real-questions pounding in my head. Instead, we talked of the coming vacation days, a "plan" for the
here and now in the islands. — James Patterson

I take a faltering step towards him, my blood pounding, my veins charged with pent-up energy begging me to run. I lace my hands around his neck and place my ear over his chest, listening to his heart. I trust him, he just needs to calm down. He's stiff at first. He sighs and his whole body deflates, melting against mine. The steady thuds in my ears slow down and he hugs me back, his mouth leaving a trail of sweet kisses on my head as his fingers softly scratch my scalp. — Tammy Faith

Ye wake in a corner and stay there hoping yer body will disappear, the thoughts smothering ye; these thoughts; but ye want to remember and face up to things, just something keeps ye from doing it, why can't ye no do it; the words filling yer head: then the other words; there's something wrong; there's something far far wrong; ye're no a good man, ye're just no a good man. Edging back into awareness, of where ye are: here, slumped in this corner, with these thoughts filling ye. And oh christ his back was sore; stiff, and the head pounding. He shivered and hunched up his shoulders, shut his eyes, rubbed into the corners with his fingertips; seeing all kinds of spots and lights. Where in the name of fuck ... — James Kelman

(Devon) "Cam - you're killing me," she quavered, pressing her head back into the pillow and praying for patience. Her heart was pounding.
"I'm loving you," he corrected in a hot whisper, then took her nipple deep into his mouth as his palm brushed over the damp lace covering her core. — Kaylea Cross

His head was pounding and his vision skewed in some way and he was vaguely amazed at being alive and not sure that it was worth it. — Cormac McCarthy

I think it's obvious if you're wanted here or not."
"Daemon," hissed Dee, her cheeks red. She turned to me, tears in her eyes. "He's not being serious."
"Are you being serious, Daemon?" Ash turned in his lap, head cocked to the side.
My heart was already pounding in my chest when his eyes met mine. His were sheltered. "Actually I was being serious." He leaned over the table, staring up at me through thick lashes. "You're not wanted here."
Dee spoke again, but I was beyond hearing. My face felt like it was on fire. People around us were starting to stare. One of the Thompson boys was smirking while the other looked as though he wanted to crawl underneath the table for me. The rest of the kids at the table were staring at their plates. One of them snickered.
I'd never been more humiliated in my life. — Jennifer L. Armentrout

Right when my fingers started to slip inside my underwear, I opened my eyes and screamed. "HOLY SHIT!" My son stood there next to the bed just staring at me. Seriously, two inches from my face just staring at me like those creepy twins in "The Shining." I waited for him to start saying, "Come play with us" in their freaky twin voices while I tried not to have a heart attack. "Gavin, seriously. You can't just stand here and stare at mommy. It's weird," I grumbled as I put my hand to my aching head and tried to calm my pounding heart. Sweet Jesus, who kicked me in the head and shit in my mouth last night? "You said a bad word, Mommy, — Tara Sivec

London is a dead duck, as far as innovative new music is concerned, unless you want to have your head blown off with some outrageous, rubbish, pounding dance music. — Jeff Beck

Reading private correspondence is in poor taste, Lord Ackerly."
"Unless it is terribly interesting," Eleanor says, "which Jessamin's letters are not. Mine, however, are lurid tales of my near-death experience and subsequent sequestering against my will in the home of the mysterious and brooding Lord Ackerly. I fear I may have given you a tragic past and a deadly secret or two."
"Are we staying in a decaying Gothic abbey?" I ask.
"Naturally. When I'm finished, there won't be a person in all the city who isn't writhing with jealousy over the heart-pounding drama of my life." She pauses, tapping her pen thoughtfully against her chin. "I don't suppose you have a cousin? I could very much use a romantic foil."
Finn shakes his head. "Sorry to disappoint."
"Alas. As long as I'm not the friend who meets a tragic end that brings you two together forever through shared grief." Her line meets dead silence, and a sly grin splits her face. "Oh wait, I nearly was. — Kiersten White

Tell me something," Xcor drawled.
"Yes?"
"Is his piggish head still attached to that weak little body of his?"
Assail chuckled. "No."
"Do you know that is among my favorite ways of killing?"
"A warming for me, Xcor?
...
"No," he declared. "Just something we have in common. Fare thee well, Assail, for what is left of this night."
"Yourself as well. And in the words of our mutual acquaintance, I must needs go. Afore I am forced to slaughter the doggen butler who is pounding, at this very instant, upon the door I have locked."
Xcor threw his head back and laughed as he ended the call.
"You know," he said to his fighters, "I rather like him. — J.R. Ward

There's blood pounding through the Duke's head.
Knighthood is glory, he's thinking, not just grace in the saddle and at swordplay, but courage enough to give your life to defend what you hold dear. A noble reward, for noble men. A badge of honour.
He'd never ennoble a merchant. Even Chaucer, whom he admires, but knows to be a fool on a battlefield. Not Chaucer's fault, that; just his merchant blood.
Knighthood's not for the likes of these people; for Madame Perrers' brood. He thought she knew her place. But she's overreached herself; she's as grasping as the rest of them, after all. Do these people think they can buy or steal everything? — Vanora Bennett

Ford put a hand to his head. "Back up. Back up!" he cried. "You're too close."
Heart pounding, I looked at the eight feet between us and pressed into the fridge.
"I think he meant for the ghost to back up," Jenks said dryly. — Kim Harrison

He smiled at me shyly and took a step closer. I froze, heart pounding, as he put one hand on my cheek and leaned toward me. I swallowed, gazing up at him with what I hoped was an expectant (and not alarmed) expression. He bent his head toward mine and ... — J.M. Richards

Are you hurt?" Alex asked.

Chris felt his chest seize with panic. "No, are you?" he asked quickly.

"No," Alex replied. "My head hurts, but I'm guessing that's because I was knocked out."

"Yeah," Chris said, trying to ignore the pounding in his skull. "Mine too." He let out a frustrated breath. "Thanks a lot!"

There was a pause before Alex asked, "You're blaming me for this?"

"You distracted me," Chris accused. "If you hadn't been there, I would have sensed the attack."

"Yeah, sure," Alex said, sarcasm thick in his voice. "You would have sensed it. You have great intuition, after all."

"Shut up!" Chris barked. — S.F. Mazhar

Why, I ... I still like you." Nerves fluttered in her chest, but she kept her tone light. "Do you like me?"
A few moments passed in silence. She would have counted them in heartbeats, but her foolish heart had become a most unreliable timepiece. It gave three pounding beats in a flurry, then none at all.
Just when she'd begun to despair, he turned his head, catching her in a passionate, openmouthed kiss. He put both arms around her, fisting his hands in the fabric of her dress, lifting her up and against his chest. So that her body recalled every inch of his, every second of their blissful lovemaking. The now-familiar ache returned - that sweet, hollow pang of desire that only deepened as his tongue flickered over hers. In a matter of seconds, he had her gasping. Needing. Damp.
Then he set her back on her toes. Pressed his brow to hers and released a deep, resonant sigh. And just before turning to leave, he spoke a single word.
He said, "No. — Tessa Dare

Darry took a step toward me, but I backed away. "Don't touch me," I said. My heart was pounding in slow thumps, throbbing at the side of my head, and I wondered if everyone else could hear it. Maybe that's why they're all looking at me, I thought, they can hear my heart beating ... — S.E. Hinton

Leave me alone, let me have at least one night when I don't cry myself to sleep with eyes burning and my head pounding. Let me get away, away from everything, away from this world! — Anne Frank

In the Twoleg nests around them, lights began to appear in the dark holes in the walls. Lionblaze heard a Twoleg shouting angrily, but the dogs went on barking and pounding at the fence. His belly lurched when he saw that the small brown-and-white dog had stuck its head through the gap and the wood around it was starting to splinter. The dark tabby she-cat darted forward and slashed her claws at the dog's nose. Yelping, it pulled back. — Erin Hunter

It's always a better choice to write a new book than it is to keep pounding your head against the submissions wall with a book that's just not happening. The next book you write could be the book, the one that isn't a fight to get representation for at all. — Diana Peterfreund

We've taken everything from her, brother," Maven murmurs, drawing close. "Surely we can give her this?"
And then slowly, reluctantly, Cal nods and waves me into his room. Dizzy with excitement, I hurry inside, almost hopping from foot to foot.
I'm going home.
Maven lingers at the door, his smile fading a little when I leave his side. "You're not coming." It isn't a question.
He shakes his head. "You'll have enough to worry about without me tagging along."
I don't have to be a genius to see the truth in his words. But just because he isn't coming doesn't mean I will forget what he's done for me already. Without thinking, I throw my arms around Maven. He doesn't respond for a second, but slowly lets an arm drop around my shoulders. When I pull back, a silver blush paints his cheeks. I can feel my own blood run hot beneath my skin, pounding in my ears. — Victoria Aveyard

I thought I heard the dark pounding its head
On a rock, crying: Who are the dead? — Allen Tate

While the introvert is reflecting on the question (thinking first), the extrovert takes this as an invitation to fill the void (talking first). As long as the introvert doesn't interrupt, the extrovert continues to fill the interpersonal space with talk. But as long as the extrovert talks, the introvert can't think and stays mute. Mute means the invitation is still open, and continued talk assures that the introvert remains mute. By the time the extrovert pauses to ask, the introvert's head is pounding and he or she just wants to get out so she can think. The extrovert just assumes the introvert had nothing to say, and moves on. — Laurie A. Helgoe

He pulled the knitting away from her, throwing it in the grass, then sank down on his knees in front of her, wrapping his arms around her waist and burying his head in her lap. He was shaking, she realized, and the tears were pouring down her face, onto him, as she stroked his long, silken hair and cried.
She didn't care what it sounded like - the hiccupping noises, the choking sobs.
Her own body was shaking, racked by the final release, and he sat back on his heels and pulled her out of the chair, into his arms, holding her so tightly that a weaker woman might break, whispering to her in Japanese, sweet, loving words, letting her cry.
She was a strong woman, and her tears, so long denied, only made her stronger.
His heart was pounding against hers, his hands firm and tender, pushing the hair away from her tear-drenched face. When he kissed her she couldn't breathe, and she didn't care. — Anne Stuart

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

Sometimes we forget to be grateful until we survive a trauma. For example, after having the flu when you ache all over, throw up for hours, and have little people pounding in your head with hammers, it is sheer bliss just to eat a piece of toast, walk outside without getting dizzy, and breathe fresh air. Part of the journey toward joy involves not waiting around for trouble, but being continuously aware of our blessings. — Charlotte Sophia Kasl

His heart pounding with fear and elation, and his head humming with the fierce certainty of a sure thing, he kissed her. She responded as though for her too a certainty had proved out, and in the midst of her hair and lips and long arms encircling him, Smoky added a treasure of great price to the small store of his wisdom. — John Crowley

My head is pounding. I wish the mints were aspirin. — Holly Black

Now we are going to have a new noise, Eleanor thought, listening to the inside of her head; it is changing. The pounding had stopped, as though it had proved ineffectual, and there was now a swift movement up and down the hall, as of an animal pacing back and forth with unbelievable impatience, watching first one door and then another, alert for a movement inside, and there was again the little babbling murmur which Eleanor remembered; Am I doing it? She wondered quickly, is that me? And heard the tiny laughter beyond the door, mocking her. — Shirley Jackson

Could it be that Megan was flirting with Ted. Instead of being jealous Amit felt oddly liberated, relieved of his responsibility to Megan, to show her a good time. His head was pounding. He needed a glass of water, needed to dilute the alcohol that had rushed too quickly into his brain. The evening had barely begun but it was as if he'd been drinking for hours. Then he saw that the hand by Megan's ear was the one that had been formerly concealing her skirt. Now that she'd had a few drinks herself she no longer cared, and Amit realized he was free of his duty to stand by her side. — Anonymous

It feels weird, being out in the real world again. Around people just living their lives like normal. Their presence is oppressive. The very fact that the world is going on as usual, like nothing ever happened, makes me want to scream. I know it's irrational to expect everything to grind to a halt because of June, but still. A wave of anxiety builds in my chest, my head pounding so loud it drowns out the noise of people talking and tapping away on their laptops. — Hannah Harrington

(Devon) "Cam, what's wrong?"
He cursed and held her tighter. "Help me," he rasped.
Her senses dizzy from the scent and feel of him, it took a few moments for the words to register. She stroked her fingers through his thick, soft hair. "Help you?"
His head moved against her hand, as much a show of helpless pleasure as it was a nod. "Help me slow down."
She shook her head. "I don't want you to slow down - "
"I want to be gentle," he said roughly, his warm breath tickling her neck. "But I'm so fucking turned on right now all I can think about is pounding into you. — Kaylea Cross

Emily sighed and looked to Simon. "Your brother is a hard man." Draven choked on his wine. She frowned. "Milord, are you all right?" she asked, pounding her hand on his back. "Fine," Draven said, then shrugged off her touch. "Your choice of words just caught me off guard." Once more Simon burst into laughter. "What?" she asked. Simon shook his head. "I'll leave it to my brother to explain to you just how hard a man he is." "Simon," he warned. "Don't growl at me when you instigated it."
-Emily, Draven & Simon — Kinley MacGregor

My head is pounding. Like the worst hangover ever. — Heather Morris

America's Most Wanted? I love it when there's a guy in the back seat pounding his head on the plexiglas. That to me is the best. — Pauly Shore

Your head is pounding with voices of confession and revelation. You followed the rails of white powder across the mirror in pursuit of a point of convergence where everything was cross-referenced according to a master code. For a second, you felt terrific. You were coming to grips. Then the coke ran out; as you hoovered the last line, you saw yourself hideously close-up with a rolled twenty sticking out of your nose. The goal is receding. Whatever it was. You can't get everything straight in one night. — Jay McInerney

The way his head felt, he wanted to dig his fingertips into his temples and remove the pulsing, pounding, screaming beast inside. — Cat Patrick

This whole thing about not kicking someone when they are down is b.s. Not only do you kick him - you kick him until he passes out - then beat him over the head with a baseball bat - then roll him up in an old rug - and throw him off a cliff into the pounding surf below!!!!! — Michael Scanlon

This was the first time he had seriously confronted what he was doing, and the force of that awareness came very abruptly - with a surging of his pulse and a frantic pounding in his head. He was about to gamble his life on that table, and the insanity of that risk filled him with a kind of awe. — Paul Auster

My tongue ran over my lower lip and I could taste the sin. It was thick and heavy in the air, and it made my head swim as I gazed into Abel's ocean-colored eyes. I wondered whether he tasted it too, whether his heart was pounding in his chest. I wondered most of all if it was artificial - a haze of adoration brought on by the pills. It had been so long since I'd wanted that; I didn't trust my own thoughts, but if felt too good to care. — Teresa Mummert

Sooner or later, we are bound to discover some things about ourselves that we don't like. But once we see they're there, we can decide what we want to do with them. Do we want to get rid of them completely, change them into other things, or use them in beneficial ways? The last two approaches are often especially Useful, since they avoid head on conflict, and therefore minimize struggle. Also, they allow those transformed characteristics to be added to the list of things we have that help us out.
In a similar manner, instead of struggling to erase what are referred to as negative emotions, we can learn to use them in positive ways. We could describe the principle like this: while pounding on the piano keys may produce noise, removing them doesn't exactly further the creation of music. — Benjamin Hoff

Dahlia, I love everything about you. I know in my heart you're my girl, so amazing, so fun, so beautiful." I feel my heart pounding and I know it's about to jump out of my chest. Turning my head, I look into his eyes. The same gleaming green eyes as the first time I saw him. I thought then what I know now, that if I jump in I will never swim out. They are telling me he's my future. — Kim Karr

Fire!
Your nose ignites,
flameless kerosene
(and, some say, Drano)
laced with ephedrine
you want to cry
powdered demons bite
through cartilage and sinuses,
take dead aim at your
brain, jump inside
want to scream
troops of tapping feet
fall into rhythm,
marking time, right
between your eyes
get the urge to dance
louder, louder, ultra
gray-matter power,
shock waves of energy
mushroom inside your head
you want to let go
detonate,
annihilate barriers,
bring down the walls,
unleashing floodwaters,
freeing long-captive dreams
to ride the current
through
arteries and capillaries,
pulsing, rushing,
raging torrents
pounding against your heart
sweeping you away — Ellen Hopkins

You are so beautiful," he whispered. He stepped closer, but before she could touch him he took her hand and brought it to his lips.
"When I saw you tonight I think my heart stopped beating."
"And is it now?" she whispered.
He took her hand and laid it over his heart. She could feel it pounding beneath his skin, almost hear it reverberating through her own body. He was so strong, and so solid, and so wonderfully male.
"Do you know what I wanted to do?" he murmured.
She shook her head, too entranced by the low heat of his voice to make a noise of her own.
"I wanted to turn you around and push you right back through the door before anyone else saw you. I didn't want to share you." He traced her lips with his finger. "I still don't. — Julia Quinn

Do you hear that?" he says.
"You mean the crashing thunder and pounding rain?"
He shakes his head. I listen closely, trying to filter o
ut the sounds of the storm.
Then I hear it. A whooshing sound with a fast buzzing underne
ath it. It's so, so familiar
but I can't quite put my finger on it. A very definite blac
k spot appears among the dark gray
clouds. The spot lengthens horizontally.
The puzzle pieces click into place and I get the full pictur
e: Fighter jet. Headed straight
for us. It could be a coincidence, right? F-22 Raptors fly
low through giant thunderstorms over
major metropolitan areas in the middle of the night a
ll the time. Right.
My illusions of a coincidence are shattered - by a mis
sile flying straight at me. It would
seem this guy has infrared, too. I mean, missiles? Really?
Isn't that a bit overkill? I start flying
away, but Sani stops me.
"Dive! — Sarah Nicolas

I have never had a first kiss like this. Is it that he's a stranger? So beautiful? If so, I am ruined for anything but beautiful strangers for the rest of my life. He is so hungry seeming, so explicit with his lips and teeth from every angle he tips my head into. I can feel my heart pounding every place ... — Mary Ann Rivers

He made his voice low and smug as he thumbed her hardened nipple. Smearing soot in a lewd circle. "Don't play innocent, Miss Highwood. You've been wanting this. A hard, sweaty pounding from the village smith. These strong, dirty hands all over your body. You've been wanting it, haven't you?"

"I . . ."

He withdrew halfway, then slid deep. "Haven't you?"

As he moved in and out, her head bobbed in a subtle nod.

"Say it." He thrust hard.

She gasped. "Yes. — Tessa Dare

We are hammered 24/7 with the "far left" and "far right" points of view, pounding us, beating us upside the head with purely political theatrics in order to make us believe it's real. It's not real. It's a con! — Bruce McDonald

Let me tell you, it is still morning in America. It just happens to be kind of a head pounding, hung over for four hours in America - and it's shaping up to be a nasty day, but its still morning in America. — Glenn Beck

Xhex couldn't stop herself from torturing them both. She sent him a mental scene, drilling the image right into his head : the two of them in a private bathroom, him up on the sink and leaning back, her with one foot planted on the counter, his sex deep in hers, the two of them panting. While he stared accross the crowded room, John's mouth parted, and the flush on his cheeks had nothing to do with embarrassment and everything to do with the orgasm that was no doubt pounding up his shaft. God, she wanted him. His buddy, the readhead, snapped her out of the madness. Blaylock came back to the table with three beers hanging from their necks, and as he took a look at John's hard, sexep-up face, he stopped short and glanced over at her in surprise.
Shit.
Xhex waved off the bouncers who were coming up to her and walked out of the VIP section so fast, she nearly bowling-pinned a waitress. Her office was the only place that was safe, and she headed there at a dead run. — J.R. Ward

The badger had paused on the edge of the shadows that filled the back of the cave. Its powerful shoulders were hunched and its claws scraped on rock. Its head swung to and fro, the white stripe glimmering, as if it were deciding which of them to attack first. Then it spoke. "Midnight has come." Brambleclaw's mouth fell open, and for a moment he felt as if the ground had given way beneath him again. That a badger could speak, could say words he understood, words that actually meant something . . . He stared in disbelief, his heart pounding. "I am Midnight." The badger's voice was deep and rasping, like the sound of the pebbles turning under the waves. "With you I must speak. — Erin Hunter

She looked over at Austin. Light from one of the yards shone on his handsome face, catching her off guard. He wasn't just handsome. He was caring and kind and capable, as well. She warned herself not to let one kiss go to her head. Of course, she felt something for this man whod' saved her life twice and probably would have to again before this was over.
But her pulse was still pounding hard from the kiss. It had been the best kiss she'd ever had. — B. J. Daniels

Her heart was pounding hard, not with excitement but with fear. The head could tell the heart all that was eighteen years over, but in matters of emotion the heart had its own brilliant vocabulary. — Stephen King

I did not grow up with people, you know, pounding in my head, 'This is what you've got to do, this is what you're going to do.' — Lindsay Davenport

Sometimes I have to remind myself to breathe. You would think it would be an innate human instinct but no, i inhale and forget to exhale and so I find my body rigid, all tensed up, heart pounding , chest tight with an anxious head wondering what's wrong. — Cecelia Ahern