Heart And Fist Quotes & Sayings

Mum, your heart is the same size as your fist,' she told me once in delight, and we both made our hands into fists and held them against our chests and bumped them together: hands as hearts. — Sanjida Kay

He only stopped walking when his arms were around her and his mouth was on hers. She made a surprised little squeak, but oh, God, her lips were so soft, and he kissed her hard, too hard, maybe, one hand sliding through her silky, cool hair, gripping the back of her head, a kiss that reached right in and clamped his heart in a fist ... the taste of her, the smell of her, her softness melded against him. The kind of kiss that ruined a man.
Then he let her go, turned around and left her standing on the dock, one hand over her lips, her dog standing at her side. — Kristan Higgins

Whenever my phone blinks fist thought come to mind is u and only u. — Pavankumar Nagaraj

It's true, isn't it, that each of us has two hearts? The secret heart, curled behind like a fist, living gnarled and shrunken beneath the plain, open one we use every day. — Carolyn Parkhurst

Vengeance ought to be spoken through gritted teeth, spittle flying, the cords of one's soul so entangled in it that you can't let it go, even if you try. If you feel it--if you really feel it--then you speak it like it's a still-beating heart clenched in your fist and there's blood running down your arm, dripping off your elbow, and you can't let go. — Laini Taylor

He narrows his eyes, and I can see the cogs turning in his mind. Then he snaps entirely. "I told you, I told you not to get in over your head!" He slams a fist down on the table, looking angrier than I've ever seen him before. "And now," he breathes, staring at me with so much sorrow it makes my heart hurt, "now I must watch you drown? — Victoria Aveyard

Try all you might to learn a woman's place. You have found it already. It is in the desert, with the stars shining on your skin. It is on the back of a camel, with a sword gripped tight in your fist. It is on the throne of Egypt-it is in the reach of your empire-it is in my arms, and in my heart. You made your place, and it is your by right, Zenobia, my love. — Libbie Hawker

In Allston, as generous as he was with his praise and encouragement, Sophia had come face-to-face with the male art establishment and its aesthetic. She had encountered it before when she was hustled out of Thomas Doughty's studio while a men's painting class was in session. More recently, at a gathering in the Reverend Channing's parlor, she had been stunned when the minister had quoted the influential British artist Henry Fuseli's sneering observation that there was "no fist" in women's painting - and then demanded Sophia's response. Flustered, Sophia had "sunk away into my shell," unable to speak, she confided in her journal. She had enough trouble summoning the confidence to paint each day, let alone defend women artists as a class. Channing's question struck to the heart of Sophia's ambivalence about taking the initiative to create original works of art. Virtually — Megan Marshall

Kage glanced back at him once, saw him move, and then strutted right over to the edge of the cage where I was sitting. As he passed by me, he tapped his fist against his chest once, right over his heart, then looked directly into my eyes just long enough to give me a secret wink that sent shivers down my spine. — Maris Black

In fact her maturity and blood kinship converted her passion to fever, so it was more affliction than affection. It literally knocked her down at night, and raised her up in the morning, for when she dragged herself off to bed, having spent another day without his presence, her heart beat like a gloved fist against her ribs. And in the morning, long before she was fully awake, she felt a longing so bitter and tight it yanked her out of a sleep swept clean of dreams. — Toni Morrison

How many men can honestly say a woman has walked their heart?" he asked. "But I can. And if you'll have me, I'd like you to stay there." Tears welled in Ceony's eyes. She didn't blink them away. Emery reached into his pocket and pulled from it a loop of white and violet paper about the width of his fist, made of dozens of tiny, crisscrossing links. Not a spell, just something crafted to be beautiful. From it hung a gold ring that glimmered rose in the sunlight. A diamond carved in the shape of a raindrop sat at its center, flanked on either side by a small emerald. The paper magician slipped the ring off the paper loop and turned it in his hands. Dropping to one knee, he said, "Ceony Maya Twill, will you marry me?" THE — Charlie N. Holmberg

I bunch Rachel's hair in my fist. The silky strands rub the spot between my fingers and I press my lips to her head. My heart hurts and soars and hurts again, all at the same time. I said I love her. Love her. — Katie McGarry

There's always a place for the angry young man with his fist in the air and his head in the sand. He's never been able to learn from mistakes, he can't understand why his heart always breaks. — Billy Joel

Conviction is a fist of stone at the heart of all things. Its form is shaped by sure hands, the detritus quickly swept from view. It is built to withstand, built to defy challenge, and when cornered it fights without honour. There is nothing more terrible than conviction. — Steven Erikson

I learned something about you today."
That wins his full attention. He draws me into the fathomless depths of his eyes. "What would that be?"
"Every time you try to do the right thing, you get screwed."
My observation is met with silence. He scoops up my other necklace, closing the key, heart, and ring within his fist.
I take a shallow breath, heartbeat stumbling as I try to read him.
"So it's a battle to make that choice, yeah?"
-Unhinged, pg 351-2 — A.G. Howard

It never passes, and it never pauses. It's like a fist clutched around my heart, squeezing all day long. — Tarryn Fisher

A day-time song like 'Word Starts Attack,' I want to make your heart blow up and make you want to punch the air with your fist. It can't be ponderous. — Johnny Marr

We have to be more careful," she said. "I don't have the time or energy for a broken heart." He felt a squeeze in his chest. "I wasn't planning to break your heart, Kate." Her eyes fell to the floor before rising back to his. "Nobody ever does." A fist tightened in his gut as he watched her retreat. He stood there for a long time, her words hitting hard, sinking deep. She'd been let down by a lot of people, and his name wasn't going to be added to the list. — Denise Hunter

Then at last the opening music came again, with all the different instruments bunched together for each note like a hard, tight fist that socked at her heart. And the first part was over. This music did not take a long time or a short time. It did not have anything to do with time going by at all. She sat with her arms held tight around her legs, biting her salty knee very hard. It might have been five minutes she listened or half the night. The second part was black-colored
a slow march. Not sad, but like the whole world was dead and black and there was no use thinking back how it was before. One of those horn kind of insturments played a sad and silver tune. Then the music rose up angry and with excitement underneath. And finally the black march again. — Carson McCullers

Seventeen times against the wall or in the barn: You move or scream or say anything I will kill them all. In front of you. First I will torture them and then I will kill them. Her eyes as dead as she can make them. Her arms as limp as she can make them. Her heart as hidden as she can make it. A soldier's cock entering the thin white flesh of a girl, into the small red cave of her, the fist of her heart pounding out be-dead, be-dead, be-dead.
Counting. — Lidia Yuknavitch

The first time I walked into the room and saw Naya asleep on Lucas's chest while he slept, too, his hand over her naked baby butt ... " Sascha sighed, rubbing a fist over her heart. "I don't think I've recovered. — Nalini Singh

When you start anything new for the fist time, always know why you're doing it and what you hope to accomplish as a result. Weigh out the pros and cons and check in with your heart to see if it is something worth pursuing. Life is extremely short, and you should be doing the things that give you the most fulfillment. — Robert Cheeke

Greitens later wrote in his book, The Heart and the Fist. — Tom Manion Tom Sileo

Tonight's not my night to lose you, partner," I told him. "Tomorrow's not my day to lose you, either." I lifted my hand from his chest and brought it down in a fist
over his heart, my voice now shouting, "Never, never, never again will there be a time when it's my time to lose you! — Kristen Ashley

Once, Lacy had been present at the birth of an infant that was missing half its heart. The family had known their child would not live; they chose to carry through with the pregnancy, in the hope that they could have a few brief moments on this earth with her before she was gone for good. Lacy had stood in a corner of the room as the parents held their daughter. She didn't study their faces; she just couldn't. Instead, she focused on the medical needs of that newborn. She watched it, still and frost-blue, move one tiny fist in slow motion, like an astronaut navigating space. Then, one by one, her fingers unfurled and she let go. — Jodi Picoult

The heart of government, coated with whatever velvet gloves you want to put on it, is a mailed fist of force and coercion. — Alan Keyes

Here you have a hawk of the lure, not of the fist. He will not come to you. If you would have him, you must lay your heart upon your hawking-glove; and feed it to him. — Dorothy Dunnett

Gratitude opens a clenched fist and a closed heart. — Debasish Mridha

An image is seen based on the light speed between the observer and the event. An image is light. Scientists theorize about sighting the edge of the universe and believe they are looking at the beginning of time. Things started moving away from each other when the Big Bang exploded 18 billion years ago. Sages theorize that this impassive distancing will end someday. Then things will reverse and start moving back towards each other. If reversal fails and contraction continues, the universe will collapse into itself, imploding into a Black Hole that can encapsulate an entire universe into a dark space the size of a fist. The size of a fist mirrors the size of a heart. — Eileen R. Tabios

The boy is destined for greatness, but with you, he is in danger. You are linked, the two of you. You must leave him. This is what I have seen."
I grew frustrated. "Is he in danger because of me?"
"He will die before his time with you by his side, unless you let him go. Fate or chance? Coincidence or destiny? I cannot say." Her voice had turned soft.
Soft and sad.
A fist closed around my heart. I tried to let him go once before. It didn't work.
"I can't," was all I said to her, and quietly.
"Then you will love him to ruins," she said, and let my hands go. — Michelle Hodkin

All I was aware of was this hole, this gaping hole where my heart should have been. I read somewhere once that your heart is supposed to be the same size as your clenched fist, but this hole felt far bigger. It seemed to expand over my whole upper body and it felt cold, vacant - the cooling wind seemed to cut right through it. I felt frail and insubstantial, as if the wind could have blown me away. — Maggie O'Farrell

Heart-smitten at this bewildering and baffling spell, that so often came between herself and her sole treasure, whom she had bought so dear, and who was all her world, Hester sometimes burst into passionate tears. Then, perhaps - for there was no foreseeing how it might affect her - Pearl would frown, and clench her little fist, and harden her small features into a stern, unsympathising look of discontent. Not seldom she would laugh anew, and louder than before, like a thing incapable and unintelligent of human sorrow. Or - but this more rarely happened - she would be convulsed with rage of grief and sob out her love for her mother in broken words, and seem intent on proving that she had a heart by breaking it. Yet — Nathaniel Hawthorne

The heart is a hollow muscle, and it will beat billions of times during our lives. About the size of a fist, it has four chambers: two Atria and two ventricles. How this muscle can house something as encompassing as love is beyond me. Is this heart the one that loves? or do you love with your soul, which is infinite?I don't know. All I know is that I feel this love in every molecule in my body, every breath I take, all the infinity in my soul. — Katy Evans

The boat lurched.He fell against her, and she fell back, onto the divan.
For onwe glorious moment she lay under him, her magnificent bosom crushed against his chest. His heart leapt into a gallop and his privy councilor leapt to attention. He lifted his head and looked down at her. She looked up at him, eyes wide and dark as an evergreen forest. He felt her breath on his skin, and heard it, soft and hurried. Her lips parted. He lowered his head.
She shoved a fist against his chest, and "Get off!" she snapped. "Get off, you great lummox! Someone's coming! — Loretta Chase

Power doesnt come from fights, and fist, and musles, it comes from the heart. -Dina"

"Life is short, live it to the fullest. -Dina"

"Never let your anger out when your angry, keep it inside. Let the people who your angry with know how strong you are. -Dina"

"Put a smile on your face no matter what happens. keep walking forward because you cant changed what already happened. -Dina"

"Never look back, keep walking forward, this is the path you chosed. -Dina"

"Don't ruin your life because of a small mistake. -Dina"

"We people do not need god to make things happen, we need the will and courage to do it ourselves.-Dina"

"I wonder what life would be like if i didnt have the people i have today. -Dina"

"I wonder what life would be like for others if i wasn't born. -Dina — What

His heart hurt, like it was being squeezed in an iron fist. He heard some kind of sound come out of his throat, and then he wrapped her up tight in his arms and tucked his head against her neck, letting the soft warmth of her skin soothe him. — Susan Fanetti

And he'd railed at her, his voice booming so loud the bed had seem to shake. "You canna do this - take my goddamned heart and then leave me! You think I will no' follow?"
She knew he was constantly there, was aware of his movement and comprehended his words, but she couldn't seem to open her heavy eyelids or speak.
At night, he would wrap his body around hers, keeping her warm, whispering against her hair, "You enjoy being contrary. Then prove them all wrong and get better." He'd clutched her hip, then balled his fist there. — Kresley Cole

What did I do today that makes you think that I don't care to learn? Shit, Kale! I'm hungry, and this burning in my chest," - Deacon placed a beefy fist over his heart - "feels like it will never go away. And even if it does - even if I learn to control it - will still come back every night before I go to lay my head on that pillow. — Inger Iversen

You're pretty sassy this morning, son. Is it all about Reingold's rulings?"
"That didn't suck, but I've got me a fascinating, beautiful woman I'm falling for. Falling hard."
"Quick work."
"In the blood. My mama and daddy barely did more than look at each other, and that was that. She's got me, Russ. Right here." He tapped a fist on his heart.
"Surely it's not considerably lower where she's got you?"
"There, too. But, Jesus, Russ, she does it for me. I just think about her, and ... I swear I could look at her for hours. Days."
Brooks let out a half-laugh, edged with a little surprise. "I'm done. I'm gone. — Nora Roberts

I've learned that courage and compassion are two sides of the same coin, and that every warrior, every humanitarian, every citizen is built to live with both.
In fact, to win a war, to create peace, to save a life, or just to live a good life requires of us - of every one of us - that we be both good and strong. — Eric Greitens

But when Bumby nursed, his fist clutching the fabric of my robe, his eyes soft and bottomless and locked on mine, as if I were the very heart of his universe, I couldn't help but melt into him. — Paula McLain

For the vile human pigs in life; the sloppy, disheveled, uncaring dregs, the ungrateful, and especially for the vicious, negative emotional peasants - there will only continue to be the hard and painful lessons you so desperately need. The invisible hand will hold you in your wretched place until your last breath - unless you evolve. If you are cruel and ignorant the invisible fist will pound you into oblivion until you submit, humble yourself and soften your hard heart. — Bryant McGill

You have no reason to be sorry for anything, ma petite."
Her clenched fist lay over his heart, the three diamonds in her palm. "You think I can't read your body? Feel the heaviness in your mind as you try to shield me? I can't change who I am, not even for you. I know I'm failing you, causing you discomfort."
A slow smile curved his mouth. Discomfort. Now,there was a word for it. His hand crushed her hair, ran it through his fingers. "I have never asked you to change, nor would I want you to. You seem to forget that I know you better than anyone. I can handle you."
She turned her head so that he could see the silver stars flashing in her blue eyes, a smoldering warning. "You are so arrogant,Gregori, it makes me want to throw things.Do you hear yourself? Handle me? Ha! I try to say I'm sorry for failing you, and you act the lord of the manor. Being born centuries ago when women were chattel does not give you an excuse. — Christine Feehan

I love you. I love you,
but I'm turning to my verses
and my heart is closing
like a fist. — Frank O'Hara

It had been in a Paris house, with many people around, and my dear friend Jules Darboux, wishing to do me a refined aesthetic favor, had touched my sleeve and said, "I want you to meet-" and led me to Nina, who sat in the corner of a couch, her body folded Z-wise, with an ashtray at her heel, and she took a long turquoise cigarette holder from her lips and joyfully, slowly exclaimed, "Well, of all people-" and then all evening my heart felt like breaking, as I passed from group to group with a sticky glass in my fist, now and then looking at her from a distance (she did not look ... ), and listening to scraps of conversation, and overheard one man saying to another, "Funny, how they all smell alike, burnt leaf through whatever perfume they use, those angular dark-haired girls," and as it often happens, a trivial remark related to some unknown topic coiled and clung to one's own intimate recollection, a parasite of its sadness. — Vladimir Nabokov

I am just so impossibly happy. Before you I was vacant of love. Now I am replete. Before you I lived without hope. Now I am inspired. Before you I was broken. Now I am whole."
"Lilah," I rasped, fighting a fucking lump in my throat at her words. I tapped over my heart with my fist and said, "You're in here, Li. You're fuckin' always in here. — Tillie Cole

Although Jillian had known what Grimm was before that moment, she was briefly immobilized by the sight of him. It was one thing to know that the man she loved was a Berserker-it was another thing entirely to behold it. He regarded her with such an inhuman expression that if she hadn't peered deep into his eyes, she might have seen nothing of Grimm at all. But there, deep in the flickering blue flames, she glimpsed such love that it rocked her soul. She smiled up at him through her tears.
A wounded sound of disbelief escaped him.
Jillian gave him the most dazzling smile she could muster and placed her fist to her heart. "And the daughter wed the lion king," she said clearly.
An expression of incredulity crossed the warrior's face. His blue eyes widened and he stared at her in stunned silence.
"I love you, Gavrael McIllioch."
When he smiled, his face blazed with love. He tossed his head back and shouted his joy to the sky. — Karen Marie Moning

If a poem is concentrated, a closed fist, then a novel is relaxed and expansive, an open hand: it has roads, detours, destinations; a heart line, a head line; morals and money come into it. Where the fist excludes and stuns, the open hand can touch and encompass a great deal in its travels. — Sylvia Plath

Riker's gaze shifted down. To her throat. Then his mouth shifted down. To her throat. Boris's face flashed in front of her eyes, and panic squeezed her heart in a cold fist. Like she had so many years ago, she tried to fight, but Riker held her easily, pinned to the wall with his weight. As his lips closed over her skin, she stopped breathing and waited for the rip of his teeth. Instead, there was only a warm sweep of his tongue and, with it, the most bizarre and disturbing sense of pleasure. — Larissa Ione

How had it happened that when choosing the men and women who were to be torn from this subjugated plain, the hand of destiny had stayed so far inland, away from the busy coastlines, to alight on the people who were, of all, the most stubbornly rooted in the silt of the Ganga, in a soil that had to be sown with suffering to yield its crop of story and song? It was as if fate had thrust its fist through the living flesh of the land in order to tear away a piece of its stricken heart. — Amitav Ghosh

Wait, so you do love me?" I asked, hope welling in my heart.
She growled and pounded her fist into a locker, leaving a fist-shaped dent. "Stop it, Justin. Stop it!"
I grabbed her shoulders. "Look at me and tell me you don't love me," I said. "Do it and I'll never bother you again."
"I don't love you," she mumbled.
"Look at me when you say it!"
She turned to me, her eyes hard but dull and faded. "I don't love you."
I let her go. My heart turned to lead, the heavy lump sagging in my chest. "Well, if there are agents out there looking to kill me, I guess it would be a mercy."
I turned to leave. Her hand gripped my shoulder.
"Please listen to me, Justin."
I pushed her hand away but didn't turn to face her. I couldn't let her see the tears welling in my eyes. "Why? What does it matter?"
"It just does. I - I don't want to see you hurt."
I took a deep shuddering breath. "You're not doing a very good job of it." I walked away and left her standing there. — John Corwin

He is looking down into the toilet bowl. He sees a bright shiny red ball, about the size of his fist, covered with blood and bobbing jauntily in the yellowed water. It throbs in time
with Ernest's pulse. It is his heart. — J. Mulrooney

There's the waiting for something you don't know is coming. You don't even know what it is exactly, but you're hoping for it. You're imagining and living your life for it. That's the kind of waiting that makes a fist in your heart. — Martine Murray

And what is love, Angel? What is love! he yelled. Is it a pressure inside that makes me want to scream when you do this? he palmed his chest roughly, Is it my body in constant chaos when you're around me? Is it murder in cold blood when I even think of you being with anybody but me! he roared. Or maybe it's not being able to think or speak when your life is in danger, or wanting to spend every second - of every - fucking day with you, wanting to never leave your side. Is that love? Is it, Isadore? He drew closer and hit his fist repeatedly against his chest. Is it pain so hard and heavy that I can't fucking breathe unless I smell you, touch you, taste you? His body heaved as his bright green gaze seared her heart. Because if it is, Angel...he held his lips together and shook his head slowly, then I am....slain with an eternal and violent love for you. — Lucian Bane

I run and run and run. Past the hospital, through the garden, past a pond. And to the cold metal wall. I stop, gulping at the air, my heart racing in my ears. I reach up with one hand and touch the wall. My fingers curl into a fist, but it falls weakly to my side. And that's when I realize there is no where to run. 'But', my heart whispers, 'there is Elder. — Beth Revis

Saul of Tarsus. The young man's face was aflame with the same fiery vengeance that filled Ezra's heart. The elders dropped their cloaks of office by Saul's feet and moved forward as the crowd unfolded. That was how it seemed to Ezra. They were a human fist, cloaked not in their robes but in rage, and they flexed their fingers in preparation of doing away with the man who dared offend the Sanhedrin. — Janette Oke

Where's your boyfriend, District 12? Still hanging on?" She asks.
Well, as long as we're talking I'm alive. "He's out there now. Hunting Cato," I snarl at her. Then I scream at the top of my lungs. "Peeta!"
Clove jams her fist into my windpipe, very effectively cutting off my voice. But her head's whipping from side to side, and I know for a moment she's at least considering I'm telling the truth. Since no Peeta appears to save me, she turns back to me.
"Liar," she says with a grin. "He's nearly dead. Cato knows where he cut him. You've probably got him strapped up in some tree while you try to keep his heart going. What's in the pretty little backpack? That medicine for Lover Boy? Too bad he'll never get it. — Suzanne Collins

If we are pack, then conquest is our sustenance, sister.
He plunged his hand into the coywolv's frame. With a wet tearing, the heart came out, glistening and full of blood, veins and arteries torn. The muscle of life. Tool held it out to her. "Our enemies give us strength." Blood ran from his fist. Mahlia saw the challenge in the half-man's eye.
She limped over to the battle-scarred monster and held out her hand. The heart was surprisingly heavy as Tool poured it into her palm. She lifted the muscle to her lips and bit deep.
Blood ran down her chin. — Paolo Bacigalupi

The homosexuals fist fuck in the steam room
while the janitor isn't looking. He calls
and never speaks but you can hear Oahu rain.
Press your ear against the glass and heart another
life
not happening, the soundless blur of snow
on the plasma screen. — Eric Gamalinda

You're become a good friend, Arthur. I appreciate all you've done to help me since Warren's death. If we were to put the deeds of giving on a scale, your side would plunge downward compared to the paltry things I've done for you in return.'
She had no idea what she'd done for him, awakening him to love again, inspiring him to look beyond his own needs to someone else's. He started to tell her so, but she went on.
'But I can't look at years and weeks. I have to look at souls and sales. What would God have me view as the most valued?' She imitated the gesture he'd made earlier, raising one hand as high as her chin and lowering the other to midthigh. 'Souls, Arthur.' She balled the hand beside her leg into a tight fist, lifted it, and pressed it to her heart. 'Souls matter most. Even if it means I lose my mercantile - my home - I choose to love those children. — Kim Vogel Sawyer

Tucker, I want to tell you a secret." She curled my hand into a fist and showed it to me. "Life is a battle, but you can't fight it with your fists." She gently tapped me on the chin with my fist and then put her hand on my chest, " You got to figt it with your heart. — Charles Martin

The gloom encroaches upon my mind, and my heart flutters like a bird held fast in a fist. — Hannah Kent

He pressed his fist to where his heart had once beaten, and I did the same. I'm sure I looked like a total idiot, but I think we all do when we're really happy. Except for Longspee. He just looked fabulous being happy. — Cornelia Funke

I can hear my mom.
I can hear her take a deep breath. I hear her pushing words out, and I can almost see her, for a second, the look on her face, her hand pressed to her own heart, the other in a fist.
"You can go if you have to go," my mom says, and her voice shakes, but she's solid. She says it again, so I'll know. "You can go if you have to go, okay, baby? Don't wait for me. I love you, you're mine, you'll always be mine, and this is going to be okay, you're safe, baby, you're safe-"
... And after that? There's nothing. — Maria Dahvana Headley

It's strange how fear works. It suddenly stands at your shoulder, and slides its arm around you. Its fist closes on your heart. — Michael Ford

Deryn had been there every step of the way.
"We are connected, aren't we?"
"Aye," she said, still chewing. "And for us to meet at all, I had to pretend to be a boy. Fancy that."
"Barking destiny," Bovril said, then burped.
Alek put his hands up in surrender. There were worse things than being connected to Deryn Sharp. In fact, the simple fact that she was smiling sent a wave of relief through him - she was his ally again, his friend. Providence seemed to be saying that she always would be.
All at once a fist around his heart loosened its grip.
"It was awful, being at war with you."
Deryn laughed. "I missed you, too, daft prince. — Scott Westerfeld

...being beautiful has nothing to do with sex. You have to be beautiful in here, too." he says, pressing his fist against his heart and then his head. — Karina Halle

As their heart rates slowed, their bodies cooled, and they came down from their high, Leo spooned her.
He collapsed to his side and drew her against him, fitting her against his body. Holding her.
It was wonderful.
Perfect.
Crack!
So of course the bed chose that moment to break on one side and tilt them toward the floor.
"Damn you, universe," she shouted, shaking a fist.
And what did Leo do at this perfect example of a catastrophe?
He laughed while she rawred. — Eve Langlais

Lila McCormick - you're partnered with Rico Vega."
Lila groaned, "No," while Rico pumped his fist twice to his heart and then raised a finger to the sky. " Gracias a dios. — Katie McGarry

He moved around the wide counter, silent as always. She was sitting on the floor, her arms wrapped around her knees, her fist in her mouth to try to quiet her sobs, and he realized he hadn't actually seen her cry before. [..]
She must have felt his eyes on her, for she suddenly swallowed her sob on a choked gasp and looked up at him, her huge, sorrow-filled eyes a sharper pain than the knife slash.
He moved slow enough, so as not to spook her, to give her plenty of time to move, but she stayed where she was, her huge eyes looking into his, and she fucking broke his heart, if he still possessed such a useless organ. — Anne Stuart

Balloons
Since Christmas they have lived with us, Guileless and clear, Oval soul-animals, Taking up half the space, Moving and rubbing on the silk Invisible air drifts, Giving a shriek and pop When attacked, then scooting to rest, barely trembling. Yellow cathead, blue fish
Such queer moons we live with Instead of dead furniture! Straw mats, white walls And these traveling Globes of thin air, red, green, Delighting The heart like wishes or free Peacocks blessing Old ground with a feather Beaten in starry metals. Your small Brother is making His balloon squeak like a cat. Seeming to see A funny pink world he might eat on the other side of it, He bites, Then sits Back, fat jug Contemplating a world clear as water. A red Shred in his little fist. — Sylvia Plath