Head Rush Quotes & Sayings

November, a dark, rainy Tuesday afternoon. This is my ideal time to be in a bookstore. The shortened light of the afternoon and the idleness and hush of the hour gather everything close, the shelves and the books and the few other customers who graze head-bent in the narrow aisles. There's a clerk at the counter who stares out the front window, taking a breather before the evening rush. I've come to find a book. — Lewis Buzbee

Only soldiers and labouring men can appreciate how glorious it really is to lie late in bed in winter-time. When your life revolves around having to to be at work at seven o'clock in the morning you know everything about that ghastly lep up still half asleep and the rush to put your head under a tap of ice-cold water with the barbarous object of shocking yourself awake. — Maurice Chevalier

Man's wobbly little mind isn't equipped for hauling around the great unknowns.
Very few people realize, there's no point chasing after answers to life's important questions. They all have fickle, highly whimsical minds of their own.
Nevertheless. If you're patient, if you don't rush them, when they're ready, they'll smash into you. And don't be surprised if afterward you're speechless and there are cartoon Tweety Birds chirping around your head. — Marisha Pessl

The boy's last - only - thought was that he had been punched in the stomach. The breath was driven from him in a sudden rush. He had no time to cry out, nor, had he had the time, would he have known what to cry, for he could not see the fish. The fish's head drove the raft out of the water. The jaws smashed together, engulfing head, arms, shoulders, trunk, pelvis, and most of the raft. Nearly half the fish had come clear of the water, and it slid forward and down in a belly-flopping motion, grinding the mass of flesh and bone and rubber. The boy's legs were severed at the hips, and they sank, spinning slowly, to the bottom. — Peter Benchley

We have the beginnings of feminism starting to rear its head, where all of that got blown up. The whole point of going to college became not to find a husband - screw that! - feminism became, "You don't want anything about a man to be defining you, and you don't want your relationship to define, you! You don't want a relationship to be your happiness. You certainly don't want marriage to be the sole determining reason you live". — Rush Limbaugh

I kissed someone tonight."
"Good for you. Now go back to sleep."
"It was Wesley...Wesley Rush."
Casey shot straight up in bed. "Whoa!" She shook her head and rubbed the sleep from her wide hazel eyes. "Okay, now I'm awake. — Kody Keplinger

This is the codicil of motherhood: Like it or not, you acquire a sixth sense when it comes to your children - viscerally feeling their joy, their frustration, and the sharp blow to the heart when someone causes them pain. "Fast." Mariah sighs. "And with my eyes wide open." As Millie opens her arms, Mariah moves into them, drawing close the comfort of childhood with a great rush of relief. She tells her mother of Ian, who was not following her when she thought he was, who was not the person he made himself out to be. She describes the way they would sit on the porch after Faith went to sleep, and how they would sometimes talk and sometimes just let the night settle over their shoulders. She does not tell Millie of Ian's brother, of what Faith might or might not have briefly done for him. She does not tell Millie how it felt to have Ian's body pressed against hers, heat from head to toe, how even during hours — Jodi Picoult

Karma has been a pop culture term for ages. But really, what the heck is it?
Karma is not an inviolate engine of cosmic punishment. Rather, it is a neutral sequence of acts, results, and consequences.
Receiving misfortune does not necessarily indicate that one has committed evil. But it is a sufficient indicator of something else.
And that something else can be anything, as long as it is a logical consequence of what has come before.
Consider: if you fall into a well, you are not a bad person who deserves to suffer - you are merely someone who took a wrong step. Or someone who had one drink too many. Or got a head rush due to poor circulation. Or forgot to wear your glasses. Or
The reasons are plentiful, and all plausible. But the chain of cause and effect goes way, way back into the deepest hoariest recesses of your personal past.
So never rule out retribution. But never expect it. — Vera Nazarian

I love you. I've loved you for longer than I even know. Since before I even knew how to love..."
He shook his head, his eyes smiling even as his expression remained somber.
"I think I've loved you even longer," he whispered back... — Caitlin Rush

If you leave the smallest corner of your head vacant for a moment, other people's opinions will rush in from all quarters. — George Bernard Shaw

Suddenly, Lisa pulled her face out of the water and her legs started flailing, the long flippers on her feet dropping so low their movement raised sand from the ocean floor. Hank lifted his head to check on her.

"What's wrong?"

"Holy crap," she sputtered. She stared at him with wide blue eyes. "I think I found Nemo! — Elle Rush

What is this gypsy passion for separation, this
readiness to rush off when we've just met?
My head rests in my hands as I
realize, looking into the night
that no one turning over our letters has
yet understood how completely and
how deeply faithless we are, which is
to say: how true we are to ourselves. — Marina Tsvetaeva

Anna prods St. Clair's shoulder. "Come on. Weren't you gonna show me that thing?"
"What thing?"
She stares at him. He stares back. She cocks her head toward Cricket and me.
"Ah, yes." St. Clair stands. "That thing."
They rush out. The door shuts, and St. Clair shouts, "Lola, Cricket wants to show you his thing, too-oo! — Stephanie Perkins

He's barely finished himself inside me when my release hits. My thighs tense. The breath stalls in my lungs, and then I kick back my head and let out the loudest, throatiest, and most breathless moan in the history of all history, going boneless in a blissful rush.
"Gods, I missed you," Griffin rasps, holding me as I throb around him.
The high-impact tremors fade into sweet, lingering aftershocks. I look up at him with heavy-lidded eyes. My lips part, but no words come out. Even the drag of frosty air over my kiss-swollen lips is almost too sensual to bear.
Griffin quirks a dark eyebrow, looking smug. "That was easy."
I grin, falling in love with him all over again. "Then do it again. — Amanda Bouchet

Water sluices away soap and grime, even some of the shame comes with it. If she were to scrub for a thousand years she would not be clean, but she is too tired to care and she has grown accustomed to scars she cannot scour away. The sweat, the alcohol, the humid salt of semen and degradation, these she can cleanse. It is enough. She is too tired to scrub harder. Too hot and too tired, always.
At the end of her rinsing, she is happy to find a little water left in the bucket. She dips one ladleful and drinks it, gulping. And then in a wasteful, unrestrained gesture, she upends the bucket over her head in one glorious cathartic rush. In that moment, between the touch of the water, and the splash as it pools around her toes, she is clean. — Paolo Bacigalupi

It always seemed to me that [Henry James] had a kind of rush of words to the head and never stopped to sort them out properly. — Christopher Morley

She is the gin. Cold, intoxicating. Gives you a rush, makes you warm inside, makes you lose your head. Take too much, it makes you sick and shuts you down.
He is the coffee, hot, steaming, filtered. You have to add stuff to it to make it taste good. Grinds your stomach, makes you jittery, wired, and tense. Bad trip, keeps you up, burns you out.
Coffee and gin don't mix, never do, everybody keeps trying and trying to make it taste good. — Henry Rollins

He said I'm gonna buy a gun and start a war, if you can tell me something worth fighting for. Oh and I'm gonna buy this place, that's what I said.
Blame it upon a rush of blood to the head — Chris Martin

Tugging at his collar to loosen it, he pushed at the half-open door and entered the room.
Miss Hathaway stood near the doorway, waiting with tightly leashed impatience, while Merripen remained a dark presence in the corner. As Cam approached and looked into her upturned face, the panic dissolved in a curious rush of heat. Her blue eyes were smudged with faint lavender shadows, and her soft-looking lips were pressed into a tight seam. Her hair had been pulled back and pinned, dark and shining against her head.
That scraped-back hair, the modest restrictive clothing, advertised her as a woman of inhibitions. A proper spinster. But nothing could have concealed her radiant will. She was ... delicious. He wanted to unwrap her like a long-awaited gift. He wanted her vulnerable and naked beneath him, that soft mouth swollen from hard, deep kisses, her pale body flushed with desire. — Lisa Kleypas

I stood looking down through the beech trees. When I threw a stone I could count to five before the splash. Then I jumped in a rush of gold to the head, through black and cold, red and cold, brown and warm, giving water the weight and size of myself in order to imagine it, water with my bones, water with my mouth and my understanding. When my body was in some way a wave to swim in, one continuous fin from head to tail, I steered through rapids like a canoe, digging my hands in, keeping just ahead of the river. — Alice Oswald

She pushed herself up, swayed, and might have tumbled if Feeney hadn't gripped her arm. "Head rush. I'm okay, just a little queasy. Lowell's in there, secured. You need to haul his ass in. Your collar."
"No, it's not." Feeney gave her arm a squeeze. "But I'll haul his ass in for you. McNab, help the lieutenant upstairs, then get your butt back down here and start on the electronics."
"I don't need help," Eve protested.
"You fall on your face," Feeney murmured in her ear, "you'll ruin your exit."
"Yeah. Yeah."
"Just lean on me, Lieutenant." McNab wrapped an arm around her waist.
"You try to cop a feel, I can still put you down."
"Whatever your condition, Dallas, you still scare me."
"Aw." Touched, she slung an arm around his shoulders. "That's so sweet. — J.D. Robb

With restraint she didn't realize she had, she tore her mouth from his.
He let out a growl of protest, his eyes dark and filled with hunger. The thought of getting devoured by him had all her muscles pulling taut.
"I don't want to be with your brother," she blurted.
She'd come to terms with the fact that when she mated it might be with two males. Unlike some of her friends, she'd adjusted to that part of this culture. But she and Con weren't getting mated and she didn't want to be with anyone else. She needed that to be clear to him.
"Good." The word came out as a rumble. "Do you want to be with anyone else?"
Did he seriously have to ask?
She shook her head.
He nipped at her jaw. "Say it." A soft, dominant demand.
Another rush of heat flooded her at the command in his tone.
"No. Just you."

-Leilani & Con — Savannah Stuart

Someone stumbled into him, cursed and walked away. Richard was lying prone on the platform, in the rush-hour glare. The side of his face was sticky and cold. He pulled his head up off the ground. He had been lying in a pool of his own vomit. At least, he hoped it was his own. — Neil Gaiman

We walk until there aren't more houses, all the way to the part of the beach where the current makes the waves come in then rush back out so that the two waves clash, water casting up like a geyser. We watch that for a while and then Scottie says, "I wish Mom was here." I'm thinking the exact same thought. That's how you know you love someone, I guess, when you can't experience anything without wishing the other person were there to see it, too. Every day I kept track of anecdotes, occurrences, and gossip, bullet-pointing the news in my head and even rehearsing my stories before telling them to Joanie in bed at night. — Kaui Hart Hemmings

Without thinking, I asked, "Are you afraid of temptation?"
He shook his head. "God, no. Just being with you, just seeing you. Fuck." He mostly swallowed the expletive, his hips rolling in a way that made me think the movement was instinctual, then added on a rush, "You breathing tempts me. — Penny Reid

Well, pardon me for not knowing about the thermal-only panty rule," I said, smirking as he dipped his head to nuzzle one of the silky bra cups. "I'll rush right out and buy some long johns."
Pausing to look up with perfect sincerity, he promised, "If you do, I will weep. Like a little girl. In public. — Molly Harper

It was a marriage of love. He was sufficiently spoiled to be charming; she was ingenuous enough to be irresistible. Like two floating logs they met in a head-on rush, caught, and sped along together. — F Scott Fitzgerald

What better way to head off more oil drilling, nuclear plants, than by blowing up a rig? I'm just noting the timing, here. — Rush Limbaugh

Rush Limbaugh is beginning to look more and more like Mr. Big, and at some point somebody's going to jam a CO2 pellet into his head and he's going to explode like a giant blimp. That day may come. Not yet, but we'll be there to watch. — Chris Matthews

In a split second of eternity, everything is changed, transfigured. A few bars of music, rising from an unfamiliar place, a touch of perfection in the flow of human dealings
I lean my head slowly to one side, reflect on the camellia on the moss on the temple, reflect on a cup of tea, while outside the wind is rustling foliage, the forward rush of life is crystalized in a brilliant jewel of a moment that knows neither projects nor future, human destiny is rescued from the pale succession of days, glows with light at last and, surpassing time, warms my tranquil heart. — Muriel Barbery

I think clear heads will prevail and the correct enemy will be identified, political enemy will be identified, and efforts will come together to defeat whoever it is they throw up - Democrats, I mean. — Rush Limbaugh

You do know that as a small child, they actually carried me around on a pillow? I had a custom-made helmet that I had to wear until I was four. (Chris)
That's because you banged your head every time you got angry. I was afraid you were going to get brain damage from it. (Wulf)
The brain is fine. It's my ego and social life in the toilet. I shudder at what you're going to do to the kid. (Chris dropped his voice and imitated Wulf's lilting Norse accent.) Don't move, you might get bruised. Oops, a sneeze, better call in specialists from Belgium. Headache? Odin forbid, it might be a tumor. Quick, rush him for a CAT scan. (Chris) — Sherrilyn Kenyon

My illusions about the world caused me to think that in order to benefit by my reading I ought to possess all the knowledge the book presupposed. I was very far indeed from imagining that often the author did not possess it himself, but had extracted it from other books, as and when he needed it. This foolish conviction forced me to stop every moment, and to rush incessantly from one book to another; sometimes before coming to the tenth page of the one I was trying to read I should, by this extravagant method, have had to run through whole libraries. Nevertheless I stuck to it so persistently that I wasted infinite time, and my head became so confused that I could hardly see or take in anything. — Jean-Jacques Rousseau

It's quiet in the car, in a good way for once. No words, no music. Silence seems right. I roll down the windows and lean my head against the door frame, listening to the wind rush by and smelling the pine trees. I watch the stars materialize, like someone is dimming the switch on the night sky so each shining dot grows brighter and brighter. — Jennifer Salvato Doktorski

Ghostface, catch the blast of a hype verse,
My glock bursts, leave in a hearse, I did worse.
I come rough, tough like an elephant tusk,
Ya head rush, fly like Egyptian musk. — Ghostface Killah

He leaned in. I felt his breath against my neck, then the press of his mouth against my skin just above the collar, almost a sigh.
"Don't," I said. I drew back, but he held me tighter. His hand went to the nape of my neck, long fingers twining in my hair, easing my head back. I closed my eyes.
"Let me," he murmured against my throat. His heel hooked around my leg, bringing me closer. I felt the heat of his tongue, the flex of hard muscle beneath bare skin as he guided my hands around his waist. "It isn't real," he said. "Let me."
I felt that rush of hunger, the steady, longing beat of desire that neither of us wanted, but that gripped us anyway. We were alone in the world, unique. We were bound together and always would be.
And it didn't matter.
I couldn't forget what he'd done, and I wouldn't forgive what he was: a murderer. A monster. A man who had tortured my friends and slaughtered the people I'd tried to protect. I shoved away from him. "It's real enough. — Leigh Bardugo

My natural instinct after doing something shameful is not to rush into the street boasting about it but to put on dark glasses and head for the next county, hoping nobody notices I've been in the neighborhood. — Russell Baker

Kammy jerked upright. It was as though the trees had parted beneath the pressure of the storm and a bolt of lightning had struck her. She had never entered the mouth for it had always been much too small. Yet, she had never seen anything else enter it either. The thought alone made her feel sick with excitement and fear. A small voice told Kammy that such a reaction was ridiculous, it was just a squirrel. But warmth spread to the tips of Kammy's fingers as they stretched forward. She could see now that it was not a burrow at all, but a tunnel large enough for her to fit through. She was quite sure that she would not even have to bend her head. The same small voice tried to speak again but Kammy could not hear it through the rush of blood in her ears.
Kammy stepped inside the mouth of the forest and felt herself flipped upside down. — Natalie Crown

Mr. Rush slapped Drew on the back of the head. "You pay attention, Morrow. There'll be hell to pay if you hurt my drum major. I'll have Clayton Porridge out in the middle of the football field, doing the cancan."
"The cancan is surprisingly difficult," Barry said. "It takes a lot more coordination than Clayton Porridge has."
Mr. Rush gave Barry the brain-melting stare.
Barry shrank. "I know this because I played Little League baseball with Clayton Porridge."
Mr. Rush kept staring.
"Sir," Barry added. — Jennifer Echols

Obama's health care plan will be written by a committee whose head, John Conyers, says he doesn't understand it. It'll be passed by Congress that has not read it, signed by a president who smokes, funded by a Treasury chief who didn't pay his taxes, overseen by a Surgeon General who is obese, and financed by a country that's nearly broke. What could possibly go wrong? — Rush Limbaugh

V was half way down the hall when he heard a yelp. He hightailed it back, barging through the door. "What? What's ... "
"I'm going bald!"
V whipped back the shower curtain and frowned. "What are you talking about? You've still got your hair ... "
"Not my head! My body, you idiot! I'm going bald!"
Vishous glanced down. Butch's torso and legs were shedding, a rush of dark brown fuzz pooling around the drain.
V started laughing. "Think of it this way. At least you won't have to worry about shaving your back as you get old, true? No manscaping for you."
He was not surprised when a bar of soap came firing at him. — J.R. Ward

When the hunt for new sources of energy had at one point got particularly frantic, one bright young chap suddenly spotted that one place which had never used up all its available energy was - the past. And with the sudden rush of blood to the head that such insights tend to induce, he invented a way of mining it that very same night, and within a year huge tracts of the past were being drained of all their energy and simply wasting away. Those who claimed that the past should be left unspoilt were accused of indulgingin an extremely expensive form of sentimentality. — Douglas Adams

Before we met, I'd fly for hours to clear my head," Bones said, his voice reaching me even over the rush of wind.
"It was the closest I came to finding peace, but though several of my mates could fly, I always went alone. I never wanted to share this with anyone until you. — Jeaniene Frost

Take advantage of the years of pioneering efforts. You might find this boring, as the young want to rush head on, as it were. — Edmund Hillary

"Tell me, doctor, " said the patient, "when I stand on my head, the blood rushes to it. Why doesn't it rush to my feet now?" "That's because your feet aren't empty," said the doctor. — Sam Ewing

Her soft giggle told me she, too, noticed my struggle. After a deep breath I lifted my head and took her face in my hands.
"I just don't wanna rush this, baby, because being with you makes me happy."

Her smile softened as she tilted her head to the side and kissed my cheek. "You, Keeton Pearce, are a very sweet man. And you make me happy, too. — C.A. Harms

The rush of power to the head is not as becoming as a new hat — Helen Van Slyke

Again, the Darkling shook his head. "You two make it so easy. I prick him, you bleed."
"And you can't begin to understand that, can you?"
He reached out and tapped Morozova's collar, letting his fingers graze the skin of my throat. Even that faint touch opened the connection between us, and a rush of power vibrated through me like a bell being struck.
"I understand enough," he said softly. — Leigh Bardugo

It was only after my head started reeling and my body started weaving and I tumbled into bed that I'd hear that soothing voice singing ... The reverbations of that voice wandered sweetly, softly, working like a massage on the area of my heart that was the most tightly clenched, helping those knots to loosen. It was like the rush of waves, and like the laughter of people I'd met in all kinds of places, people I'd become friendly with and then separated from, and like the kind words all those people had said to me, and like the mewing of a cat I had lost, and like the mixture of noises that rang in the background in a place that was dear to me, a place far away, a place that no longer existed, and like the rushing of trees that whisked past my ears as I breathed in a scent of fresh greenery on a trip someplace ... the voice was like a combination of all this. — Banana Yoshimoto

Ideas for gadgets for the disabled were coming into my head so fast they seemed to be arriving from somewhere outside of me, beamed down by an unremitting force. I had little control over them, or their flow. I would wake up in the middle of the night. A blinding flash of an idea would rouse me from my bed and I'd rush down to my workshop to have a go at it before the inspiration dimmed. — Trevor Baylis

Seriously, he is just a voice on the radio, unlike the ones in your head, you don't have to do what he tells you to do. — Rush Limbaugh

Breathe," he ordered gently. "Once more time. Now, reassure me that's not panic." "Not really. No." "Talk to me, Eva." "I just ... " I blurted it out in a rush. "I want you to ask when I can say yes."
Tension gripped his body. He leaned back, his eyes wounded beneath his frown. "You couldn't say yes no?"
I shook my head.
His mouth thinned into a determined line. "Lay out what you need from me to make that happen. — Sylvia Day

It's at that exact second I realize - in a rush, like a wave crashing all around me - I have fallen in love. I am head over heels in love with Chase Gartner. — S.R. Grey

Did you ever hear of the Queensborough Bridge?'
Wilbur shook his head. 'Is it a web?'
'Sort of,' replied Charlotte. 'But do you know how long it took men to build it? Eight whole years. My goodness, I would have starved to death waiting that long. I can make a web in a single evening.'
'What do people catch in the Queensborough Bridge - bugs?' asked Wilbur.
'No,' said Charlotte. 'They don't catch anything. They just keep trotting back and forth across the bridge thinking there is something better on the other side. If they'd hang head-down at the top of the thing and wait quietly, maybe something good would come along. But no - with men it's rush, rush, rush, every minute. I'm glad I'm a sedentary spider. — E.B. White

The Frenchman sat up with that strange energy which comes often as the harbinger of death. "( ... ) This I tell you - I, Raoul de la Roche Pierre de Bras, dying upon the field of honour. And now kiss me, sweet friend, and lay me back, for the mists closes round me and I am gone!"
With tender hands the squire [Nigel] lowered his comrade's head, but even as he did so there came a choking rush of blood, and the soul had passed. So died a gallant cavalier of France, and Nigel, as he knelt in the ditch beside him, prayed that his own end might be as noble and as debonair. — Arthur Conan Doyle

If I tell Dad he has a problem, he'll think I hate him. How can I hurt him more? He just lost everything."
Wesley shook his head. "Not everything. He didn't lose you," he said. "At least not yet. If you don't talk to him, he'll just end up driving you away, and then he will be in far worse pain. — Kody Keplinger

Sully suffers from a stutter,
simple syllables will clutter,
stalling speeches up on beaches
like a sunken sailboat rudder.
Sully strains to say his phrases,
sickened by the sounds he raises,
strings of thoughts come out in knots,
he solves his sentences like mazes.
At night, he writes his thoughts instead
and sighs as they steadily rush from his head. — Bo Burnham

Drinking gave me a rush of confidence, and for a boy hounded by feelings of inadequacy, the buzz was a welcome relief. What was impossible to realize at the time was that I was shooting myself in the head in some strange time warp where the bullet takes many years to finally reach its target. — Brennan Manning

Well, there are other versions of the story," I say, thinking out loud. "Besides the throwing and the kissing." "Like what?" Frederic asks. I bite my lip. This is going to be worse than the frog-legs conversation. "Well, there's the one where the princess chops off the frog's head, and then he turns into a prince," I say all in a rush. Frederic's eyes almost pop out of his head. "I do not wish to try that one. — Sarah Mlynowski

The Hitler movement is a stampede. It is something beyond reason, like a pulse beating, like a rush of blood to the head, like the sap rising from the twisted roots of a family tree ... in many ways it is the most remarkable upheaval of our time, perhaps the most momentous. — Anne O'Hare McCormick

I'd caught what cameras call an updraft: just as the viewers got over the first rush of interest, others smelled the excitement and tuned in. The surprise of the newcomers strengthened the scent, attracting still more people, in a spiral that could make the feedback escalate out of control. Wave upon wave of astonishment crashed through me. I tried to look down, but the curiosity of millions forced my head back up. I stood there staring at the whale like someone forced to look into the sun, unable to turn away, though my mind cringed from the sight and my eyes were burning. It was not just an updraft, but riptide: feedback so strong that it flooded out my own emotions and derailed my thoughts. The audience grew so large and so greedy that it wouldn't even let me blink. — Raphael Carter

It occurred to me to look up and around at the stars in the clear sky, at the trees in the dark, at the half moon. I was missing them because I was caught in my head. I wasn't living right now. I was thinking to the future, to the past. I wasn't present. This is one of my greatest weaknesses, and one I have a greater realization of, only because I allowed some of my past to die so that my present could rush in to fill it. — Jennifer DeLucy

Fools Rush In

Fools rush in
Where angels fear to tread
And so i come to you my love
My heart above my head
Though i see
The danger there
If there's a chance for me
Then i don't care

Fools rush in
Where wise men never go
But wise men never fall in love
So how are they to know
When we met
I felt my life begin
So open up your heart and let
This fool rush in

Fools rush in
Where wise men never go
But wise men never fall in love
So how are they to know
When we met
I felt my life begin
So open up your heart and let
This fool rush in
Just open up your heart and let
This fool rush in
Let open up your heart and let
This fool rush in — Marie Antoinette

There are two kinds of women in the world: those who savor, and those who don't. The ones who savor know how to enjoy a good time when it happens. We dig in the claws and ride a rush as hard and as long as we can.
And then there are those other gals. I don't know if they feel guilty about having fun or if they take themselves too seriously - or maybe they're just afraid they'll get their hair mussed if they throw their head back and have a good time. Whatever it is, they'll push back from the table at d'Annunzio's, still flushed from some masterpiece of chocolate-raspberry bliss, and their first words uttered will involve 'walking it off. — Chris Dee

I got a head start and ws already hanging upside down when he caught up. All the blood was rushing to my head, making me feel dizzy. "I can't stay like this much longer," I told him."Head rush."
He leaned down and stuck his face next to mine, gifting me with a beautiful smile."I know the feeling," he said. "You give me a head rush all the time. — Jessica Verday

If I order an appetizer is there any chance I can get it quickly? I'm two and a half months pregnant with a Bradford," she said, not mentioning it was twins because the thought was actually starting to scare her and she hadn't told Trevor yet and didn't want him finding out this way. She just hoped the woman understood because she was close to crying. Judging by the slightly startled look on the woman's face she did.
The waitress shook her head. "No, you're right. You probably won't be able to survive the wait," she said, sending Trevor, who was still trying to get the woman to leave, a glare. "I'll bring you out a bowl of clam chowder followed by chicken fingers, they'll only take a few minutes to prepare. Will that work?"
Zoe nodded solemnly. "You are my hero."
"I'll put a rush on your food," the waitress said before walking away.
"Bless you," Zoe said, fighting the urge to kiss the woman. — R.L. Mathewson

Being a hangman requires you to take someone else's life based on someone else's judgment, and carry it out on someone else's schedule. The job does not provide the same satisfaction that an ordinary murderer gets from smashing a skull. It robs them of the fulfillment of plunging a knife into someone's throat. In the world of capital punishment, the prisoner's crimes have been sanitized by years of sitting on death row. By then, the execution is a cold and impersonal affair. There is prayer, a noose, and a few last words. The prisoner then experiences a sudden rush of blood to the head. At the end of it all, you have a broken neck and a dead body swinging from the end of a rope. That is it. You don't get to manhandle them with your own hands. That's why the brutes you mention will never be hired. So you see, Vaida, this is not a job for a murderer. It is a job for a humanitarian. — Taona Dumisani Chiveneko

The filling of the Holy Spirit brings a sharp separation between the believer and the world.
Actually, after Pentecost, they were looking at another world. They really saw another world.
Nowadays, we perceive that even a large part of evangelical Christianity is trying to convert this world to the church. We are bringing the world in head over heels
unregenerated, uncleansed, unshriven, unbaptized, unsanctified. we are bringing the world right into the church. If we can get some big shot to say something nice about the church, we rush into print and tell about this fellow and what nice things he said. I don't care at all about big shots because I serve a living Saviour, and Jesus Christ is Lord of lords and King of kings. I believe every man ought to know this ability to see another world. — A.W. Tozer

If you heard your lover scream in the next room
and you ran in and saw his pinkie on the floor, in a small puddle of blood.
You wouldn't rush to the pinkie and say,
'Darling, are you OK? '
No, you'd wrap your arms around his shoulders
and worry about the pinkie later.
The same holds true if you heard the scream,
ran in and saw his hand or -god forbid- his whole arm.
But suppose you hear your lover scream in the next room,
and you run in and his head is on the floor next to his body.
Which do you rush to and comfort first? — Jeffrey McDaniel

Most of the books I have are indicators of my insecurity. I really wanted to be an intellectual. I really wanted to understand Sartre. I thought that was what made people smart. I have tried to read Being and Nothingness no fewer than twenty times in my life. I really thought that every answer had to be in that book. Maybe it is. The truth is, I can't read anything with any distance. Every book is a self-help book to me. Just having them makes me feel better. I underline profusely but I don't retain much. Reading is like a drug. When I am reading from these books it feels like I am thinking what is being read, and that gives me a rush. That is enough. I glean what I can. I finish some of the unfinished thoughts lingering around in my head by adding the thoughts of geniuses and I build from there. There are bookmarks in most of the denser tomes at around page 20 to 40 because that was where I said, "I get it." Then I put them back on the shelf. — Marc Maron

I flung open the door. I got a momentary flash of about a hundred and fifteen cats of all sizes and colours scrapping in the middle of the room, and then they all shot past me with a rush and out of the front door; and all that was left of the mobscene was the head of a whacking big fish, lying on the carpet and staring up at me in a rather austere sort of way, as if it wanted a written explanation and apology. — P.G. Wodehouse

Danny had no idea what the thing was. All he knew was that he lived more or less in a constant state of expecting something any day, any hour, that would change everything, knock the world upside down and put Danny's whole life into perspective as a story of complete success, because every twist and turn and snag and fuckup would always have been leading up to this. Unexpected stuff could hit him like the thing at first: a girl he'd forgotten giving his number to suddenly calling up out of the blue, a friend with some genius plan for making money, better yet a person he'd never heard of who wanted to talk. Danny got an actual physical head rush from messages like these, but as soon as he called back and found out the details, the calls would turn out to just be about more projects, possibilities, schemes that boiled down to everything staying exactly like it was. — Jennifer Egan

She went to the window. A fine sheen of sugary frost covered everything in sight, and white smoke rose from chimneys in the valley below the resort town. The window opened to a rush of sharp early November air that would have the town in a flurry of activity, anticipating the tourists the colder weather always brought to the high mountains of North Carolina.
She stuck her head out and took a deep breath. If she could eat the cold air, she would. She thought cold snaps were like cookies, like gingersnaps. In her mind they were made with white chocolate chunks and had a cool, brittle vanilla frosting. They melted like snow in her mouth, turning creamy and warm. — Sarah Addison Allen

If I release you, you won't scream? I'd rather not continue the conversation like this."
She shook her head, and he freed her. She scrambled away from him, feeling the grooves of the headboard bite into her back when she slammed into it.
He sat back on her bed, his hands on his jean-clad thighs. The hair at his neck curled from dampness. "You don't have to be afraid of me."
She almost laughed. "A stranger breaks in, and I'm supposed to be cool with that?"
"Amy, we're not strangers. — Jaime Rush

Now, in every city into which I venture, uniforms rush upon me, dust dandruff from my collar, press a brochure into my hand, recite the latest weather report, pray for my soul, throw walk-shields over nearby puddles, wipe off my windshield, hold an umbrella over my head on sunny or rainy days, or shine an ultra-infra flashlight before me on cloudy ones, pick lint from my belly-button, scrub my back, shave my neck, zip up my fly, shine my shoes and smile - all before I can protest - right hand held at waist-level. What a goddamn happy place the universe would be if everyone wore uniforms that glinted and crinkled. Then we'd all have to smile at each other. — Roger Zelazny

That Chippendale is a coffee table, Lieutenant, not a footstool."
"How do you walk with that stick up your ass?" She left her feet where they were, propped comfortably on the table. "Does it hurt, or does it give you a nice little rush?"
"Your dinner guests," he said, curling his lip, "have arrived."
"Thank you, Summerset." Roarke got to his feet. "We'll have the hors d'oeuvres in here." He held out a hand to Eve.
She waited, deliberately, until Summerset had stepped out again before swinging her feet to the floor.
"In the interest of good fellowship," Roarke began as they started toward the foyer, "could you not mention the stick in Summerset's ass for the rest of the evening?"
"Okay. If he rags on me I'll just pull it out and beat him over the head with it."
"That should be entertaining. — J.D. Robb

He suffered from a rush of words to the head. — Herbert Samuel

She didn't know Matt had followed her until he grabbed her shoulder, halting her headlong rush to nowhere. He turned her into his arms, pulled her against his chest, crushed her mouth in a searing kiss.
"Shane," he said when he raised his head from hers. "I love you. I love you."
Her heart opened and the wall inside her trembled as she clung to him. "Burn me up, Matt," she said, her voice a ragged whisper. "Burn it away. Please, please, burn it all away."
She heard him growl deep in his throat and he lifted her into his arms in one swift movement.
As he carried her back across the parking lot and through the door of her room, she rained kisses on his neck and the hard line of his jaw. His skin was warm and damp and tasted of salt and desire. — Jane Taylor Starwood

She's not a slut, honey," I said gently. "Seein' an older guy," Rush muttered. "Sometimes, you get told enough you are what you aren't, it gets in your head and you make it a self-fulfilling prophesy even if you really aren't that." Rush looked back at me. "She isn't that," I whispered. "She's just in trouble enough for not being it, she probably thinks she might as well do it since she's in trouble for it anyway. — Kristen Ashley

At first, the woman thought she had snagged her leg on a rock or a piece of floating wood. There was no initial pain, only one violent tug on her right leg. She reached down to touch her foot, treading water with her left leg to keep her head up, feeling in the blackness with her left hand. She could not find her foot. She reached higher on her leg, and then she was overcome by a rush of nausea and dizziness. Her groping fingers had found a nub of bone and tattered flesh. She knew that the warm, pulsing flow over her fingers in the chill water was her own blood. — Peter Benchley

Hope is a waking dream.' I let the words echo in my head. The quote reminded me of that feeling you get when you start to wake from a dream you don't want to leave. That crushing sensation in the center of your chest, like you are losing an important piece of yourself you won't ever get back. — Jennifer Rush

When you're in love, your brain secretes endorphins into your blood. Organic morphine leaks out of a gland in your skull, feels like a low-grade opium rush. Some people confuse the two, the head rush and the love. You think you're in love with a person, but you're in love with a syringe. — Craig Clevenger

All of a sudden we were out of the lot and on the highway next to the mountains, flying. I put my hand out the window, and then I put my head out. I felt my hair blow behind me and the air rush into me, and I forgot for a moment to worry about how I was supposed to be. Because I was perfect right then. Everything was. And Sky was a perfect driver. Not scary. Just steady. And fast. I wanted the music to last forever. — Ava Dellaira

It is not for us to know who does and does not manage to accept forgiveness, but if the love really never stops, if God really does long for every lost soul, then in principle God regards as forgivable a whole load of stuff we really don't want forgiven, thank you. People who use airliners to murder thousands of office workers, people who strut about Norwegian summer camps stealing the lives of teenagers with careful shots to the head, people who drive over their gay neighbor in their pick-up truck and then reverse and do it again, people who torture children for sexual pleasure: God is apparently ready to rush right in there and give them all a hug, the bastard. We don't want that. We want justice, dammit, if not in this world then in the next. We want God's extra-niceness confined to deserving cases such as, for example, us, and a reliable process of judgment put in place which will ensure that the child-murderers are ripped apart with red-hot tongs. — Francis Spufford

My work is getting stronger & stronger and more intense all the time ... I have such a rush of new energy & notions coming into my head, over my horizon like chariots of fire that all I want is freedom to step aside and execute them. — Marsden Hartley

It would be stupid to rush things."
"Rush? This thing between us started three months ago."
"Yeah, in your head. — Suzanne Wright

Sometimes the women much resent the men who call for war and have been known to rush upon them and beat them severely about the head and shoulders. — Peter Matthiessen

Sometimes I hear a drum groove in my head and I rush down to my studio. — Billy Sherwood

the warmth
in my mouth.
that rush
through my veins
making my heartache
my pulse quicken
my head-
just a bit dizzy.
my legs-
just a bit numb.
my tongue
years for more
more of you
right now.
now.
i can't wait anymore.
this is torture.
seriously.
i'm in hell.
waiting for you.
i just want to shout
to this giant crowd of people
"how hard is it to make a latte, fuckers?"
i love you, coffee. — Pamela Ribon

Do you know what my father used to say?" I ask her. "He used to say that songs had a heart. A crescendo that can make all your blood rush from your head to your toes. — Lauren DeStefano

She felt the lurch of a head rush. The boy who had not paid attention to her; the man who'd embarked on an affair knowing she could never be his; at the last moment he was asking for more. A piece of her was elated. But she was also struck by his selfishness. — Jhumpa Lahiri

I felt all the blood rush from my head and collect itself in my stomach. I had to sit down. — Brian Paone

Kevin stopped where he was and stood there simply gazing at her. Molly sat cross-legged in the meadow with the sun shining on her bare shoulders and a pair of yellow butterflies fluttering like hair bows around her head. She was all the dreams he'd lost at dawn-dreams of everything he hadn't understood he needed until now. She was his playmate, his confidante, the lover who made his blood rush. She was the mother of his children and the companion of his old age. She was the joy of his heart. — Susan Elizabeth Phillips

It was, he thought, the difference between being dragged into the arena to face a battle to the death and walking into the arena with your head held high. Some people, perhaps, would say that there was little to choose between the two ways, but Dumbledore knew - and so do I, thought Harry, with a rush of fierce pride, and so did my parents - that there was all the difference in the world. — J.K. Rowling

Will drive you." Her car, he knew, was parked on the other side of the Seine. It seemed far to walk. But he just nodded numbly. "All right," he said. She was in no rush. They strolled arm in arm, like lovers, along the embankment. They passed the houseboat restaurants tied up to the side, brightly lit, still busy with guests. Above them, on the other side of the river, rose Notre Dame, brilliantly lit. For a while, this slow walk, with her head on his shoulder, the soft words she spoke to him, made him feel better. But soon he stumbled, feeling a kind of clumsy weakness coursing through his body. His mouth was very dry. His jaw felt stiff. It was difficult to speak. She did not seem to notice. They had moved past — Michael Crichton

We've known for a long time that it was no longer possible to overturn this world, nor reshape it, nor head off its dangerous headlong rush. There's been only one possible resistance: to not take it seriously. — Milan Kundera

The Hillary Clinton story basically is this. And see how similar this sounds to the old days before the modern era of feminism raised its head. You're a girl, you're a young woman, what do you do? You go off to college. That's what she did. Why do you go? To meet your husband. That's what she did. She wouldn't be where she is if it weren't for her husband. — Rush Limbaugh

It wasn't the time and place.
He oughtn't to rush his fences.
But she'd waved her arms, and that made her womanly parts jiggle and he could only keep one idea in his head at a time, and in any case, oughts never went down smoothly with him.
He was who he was, and that wasn't a good boy. And so down he went, and crushed her sulky little mouth under his. — Loretta Chase

You don't have to be worried, okay? You don't have to be scared." His voice is twinkling again. "I'm not flirting with you."
Embarrassment sweeps through me. Flirting. A dirty word. He thinks I think he's flirting. "I'm not - I don't think you were - I would never think that you - " The words collide in my mouth, and now I know there's no amount of darkness that can cover the rush of red to my face.
He cocks his head to the side. "Are you flirting with me, then?"
"What? No," I splutter. My mind is spinning blindly in a panic, and I realize I don't even know what flirting is. I just know about it from textbooks; I just know that it's bad. Is it possible to flirt without knowing you're flirting? Is he flirting? My left eye goes full flutter. — Lauren Oliver