I'm Feeling Low Quotes & Sayings

Does this hurt?" he asked. I brought my head up to look at him, but he wasn't looking at me. He was looking at Michael. I twisted my head, seeing Michael's mouth open a little, taking in quick, shallow breaths. "Yeah," he said in a low voice, his eyes meeting mine. "But you like it," I stated, feeling one of Kai's hands trail up my belly between us. "You like the sting. It turns you on. — Penelope Douglas

I walk to think and not to think. When walking I remember things that are important to me.
I walk to forget. I have yet to set out on a walk in low spirits and return feeling worse than I did when I left the door. A change occurs between the fate and the porch, walking lifts the weight off the heart. Or as the writer Jim Harrison says, When you're out of sorts, walk a hundred miles. — Susan Minot

In the present day, when popular literature is running into the low levels of life, and luxuriating on the vices and follies of mankind; and when the universal pursuit of gain is trampling down the early growth of poetic feeling, and wearing out the verdure of the soul, I question whether it would not be of service for the reader occasionally to turn to these records of prouder times and loftier modes of thinking; and to steep himself to the very lips in old Spanish romance. — Washington Irving

Everyone has a supremely low moment somewhere along the AT, usually when the urge to quit the trail becomes almost overpowering. The irony of my moment was that I wanted to get back on the trail and didn't know how. I hadn't lost just Katz, my boon companion, but my whole sense of connectedness to the trail. I had lost my momentum, my feeling of purpose. In the most literal way I needed to find my feet again. — Bill Bryson

It's so beautiful at this hour. The sun is low, the shadows are long, the air is cold and clean. You won't be awake for another five hours, but I can't help feeling that we're sharing this clear and beautiful morning. — Jonathan Safran Foer

I am in need of music that would flow
Over my fretful, feeling finger-tips,
Over my bitter-tainted, trembling lips,
With melody, deep, clear, and liquid-slow.
Oh, for the healing swaying, old and low,
Of some song sung to rest the tired dead,
A song to fall like water on my head,
And over quivering limbs, dream flushed to glow!
There is a magic made by melody:
A spell of rest, and quiet breath, and cool
Heart, that sinks through fading colors deep
To the subaqueous stillness of the sea,
And floats forever in a moon-green pool,
Held in the arms of rhythm and of sleep. — Elizabeth Bishop

A friend called the other day.
'How are you?' she said.
The sun was shining, the sky a merciless blue. It was only eleven in the morning but I had been awake since three twenty. I was in bed because, as usual, I could think of nowhere else to go. I said that I was feeling low. Low is the depressive's euphemism for despair.
She said: 'How can you be depressed on a day like this?'
I wanted to say: 'If I had flu, would you ask me how I could be sick on a day like this? — Sally Brampton

Grace: Outside, deep in the woods, I heard a long keening wail, and then another, as the wolves began to howl. More voices pitched in, some low and mournful, others high and short, an eerie and beautiful chorus. I knew my wolf's howl; his rich tone sang out above others as if begging me to hear it.
My heart ached inside me, torn between wanting them to stop and wishing they would go on for ever. I imagined myself there among them in the golden woods, watching them tilt their heads back and howl underneath a sky of endless stars. I blinked a tear away, feeling foolish and miserable, but I didn't go to sleep until every wolf had fallen silent. — Maggie Stiefvater

Cinder crossed her arms over her chest. "You're an expert on the sound levels of spaceships now, are you?"
"Nah," said Kai. "I've just been waiting to hear that sound all day."
She smiled at him, feeling the hummingbird flutter of her own pulse. He smiled back.
"Aces," said Thorne with a low groan. "They haven't even kissed yet and they're already making me nauseous. — Marissa Meyer

In my work, I see a lot of women who suffer from low self-esteem. They think they're unattractive, but the way society today - " "I don't think I'm unattractive," she says. "That's good. That's great. It's not something women are always aware of on a conscious level, though. So, I would like you to be open-minded to the possibility that perhaps, deep down, you might be feeling unattractive without being aware of it. And if that's the case, you might feel there's no point in even trying to look better." "Yeah but, no. I don't think I'm unattractive. And I don't think it subconsciously either. — Amanda Filipacchi

I'm feeling a low regarding writing. I sometimes think I should finish working on my book of stripper poetry that I started, but other times I feel like it's not worth it. Sometimes I think I should work on my comic book idea, and then other times I want to work on a website, and still other times I think I should be working on this memoir. That's a lot of thinking about writing without a whole lot of writing going on. — Sheila Hageman

I meant to resist your charms; I really did.I wasn't going to do this."
Alan took her wrist, guiding her hand over so that he could press a kiss to the palm. "Make love with me?"
"No." Shelby's gaze traveled from his mouth to his eyes. "Be in love with you."
She felt his fingers tighten on her wrist, then loosen slowly as his eyes stayed dark and fixed on hers. Beneath her, she felt the change in his heartbeart. "And are you?"
"Yes." The word, hardly audible, thundered in his head.
Alan brought her to him, cradling her head against his chest, feeling her low slow expulsion of air as his arm came around her. He hadn't expected her to give him so much so soon. "When?"
"When?" Shelby repeated, enjoying the solid feel of his chest under her cheek. "Sometime between when we first stepped out on the Write's terrace and when I opened a basket of strawberries."
"It took you that long? All I had to do was look at you. — Nora Roberts

I get a feeling of peace from a low so high, as I sit in my chair and watch life go by. — Kid Rock

I've been awkward forever. I have really low expectations for myself. When I do perform to some sort of social standard, I leave feeling really comfortable. I'm either so awkward that I look retarded or I'm so awkward that everyone else feels retarded. — Earl Sweatshirt

I was feeling low. Low is the depressive's euphemism for despair. — Sally Brampton

When I am feeling low all I have to do is watch my cats and my courage returns. I study these creatures. they are my teachers. — Charles Bukowski

I have a feeling I may have been born a century and a half too late, two classes too low, and in the wrong country... — Jack Rollins

Do you give your servants reasons for your expenditure, or your economy in the use of your own money? We, the owners of capital, have a right to choose what we will do with it.' 'A human right,' said Margaret, very low. 'I beg your pardon, I did not hear what you said.' 'I would rather not repeat it,' said she; 'it related to a feeling which I do not think you would share.' 'Won't you try me?' pleaded he; his thoughts suddenly bent upon learning what she had said. She was displeased with his pertinacity, but did not choose to affix too much importance to her words. 'I said you had a human right. I meant that there seemed no reason but religious ones, why you should not do what you like with your own. — Anonymous

Somebody said combat is 99 percent sheer boredom and 1 percent pure terror. They weren't an MP in Iraq. On the roads I was scared all the time. Maybe not pure terror. That's for when the IED actually goes off. But a kind of low-grade terror that mixes with the boredom. So it's 50 percent boredom and 49 percent normal terror, which is a general feeling that you might die at any second and that everybody in this country wants to kill you. Then, of course, there's the 1 percent pure terror, when your heart rate skyrockets and your vision closes in and your hands are white and your body is humming. You can't think. You're just an animal, doing what you've been trained to do. And then you go back to normal terror, and you go back to being a human, and you go back to thinking. — Phil Klay

low-slung shorts/you and joe IT WAS not a gradual thing. Wait. That was a lie. I didn't know it was a gradual thing. But it must have been. It had to have been. Because it's the only thing that explained the cosmic explosion that was the feeling of want and need and mine mine mine. The force of it was ridiculous. It had to have been there. For a long time. JOE — T.J. Klune

I feel . . . low," I say, looking away. "Like, literally low. Flat. It's not . . . sad, exactly. I mean, sad too, obviously. But that's a different feeling, I guess."

She nods. "There's a reason it's called 'depression' and not 'chronic sadness' or 'manic sorrow.'" She picks up a foam stress ball and squeezes it, leaving imprints of her fingers. "Depressions like these are holes left behind by a physical force. With mental depression, the force can be chemical or situational or both, but it doesn't just make a hole--it presses you into one that feels impossible to escape. — Kate Hart

It occurred to me one evening, as I sat by myself in Al's patio, that a man can live on his wits and his balls for only so long. I'd been doing it for ten years and I had a feeling that my reserve was running low. — Hunter S. Thompson

And now, from beneath the audible, came a low reverberation. It came up through the soles of my feet. I stood still while it hummed upward bone by bone. There is no adequate simile. The pulse of the country worked through my body until I recognized it as music. As language. And the language ran everywhere inside me, like blood; and for feeling, it was as if through time I had been made of earth or mud or other insensate matter. Like a rhyme learned in antiquity a verse blazed to mind: O be quick, my soul, to answer Him; be jubilant, my feet! And sure enough my soul leapt dancing inside my chest, and my feet sprang up and sped me forward, and the sense came to me of undergoing creation, as the land and the trees and the beasts of the orchard had done some long time before. And the pulse of the country came around me, as of voices lifted at great distance, and moved through me as I ran until the words came clear, and I sang with them a beautiful and curious chant. — Leif Enger

Some imagine game development as a path that we follow toward our
destination. I disagree with this image. I think it's more like a dark forest
full of stinging monsters, waiting to inject you with anesthetic poison.
Each time you bump into one, it stings you and the poison makes you
feel warm and content. But under the surface, the stings are stealing your
vigor, dissolving you from the inside. It's only later, as your strength runs
low and the moon clouds over, that you might realize that the pleasant
feeling you've enjoyed all this time wasn't progress. It was death. — Tynan Sylvester

I earned my place,
With the tidal waves.
I can't escape this feeling,
That something ain't right.
I called my name
As I crashed the gates,
Still I can't escape this feeling
That something ain't right. — All Time Low

Avery latched on to his neck and stayed on him. All Kane could do was lean his head back feeling the bottles shift behind him, giving Avery full access to his jaw and ear. Kane heard himself groan when Avery's teeth nipped the soft skin under his ear. Avery ground his hips forward and Kane involuntarily met him thrust for grinding thrust. "Come home with me. No, fuck home. I want you right here." Kane couldn't think with the sexy low voice whispering across his ear. Avery's hands were on him, seeking, and he pulled Kane's shirt from his slacks and unbuckled his belt. He was surprised to find his own hands working himself free, not Avery's. Loud beeps stopped Kane in his tracks as the security code to the wine cellar was entered. — Kindle Alexander

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

I turned fifty and decided to take a break. After twenty-five years of working, it seemed like a good idea. Honestly, I was feeling depleted. I still cared about my career and realized, amid a worsening economic climate, that I was lucky to have one. But that appreciation felt more lodged in my head than my heart. One day, United Airlines sent me a card, along with some new luggage tags, offering congratulations on having flown 2 million miles. Quick arithmetic translated all those zeroes into the equivalent of flying from one side of the country to the other every single day - Sundays, holidays, birthdays, sick or well - for more than two years. Maybe the card from United should have offered condolences. It all added up to an abiding fatigue. And a question: Did I want to fly 2 million more miles over the next twenty-five years of my life? Was I having a low-grade midlife crisis? I had no red sports car, reckless affair, — Marc Freedman

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

But you know, even worrying about haircuts couldn't depress me. Because every time I started sinking low, I'd just remember about football. All this time I'd thought I wanted to be a trainer, when it turned out I wanted to be a player instead. I saw something I wanted to do and I decided to do it. The feeling of freedom this gave me - I can't even describe it. It was my decision. I chose it. I am not a cow. — Catherine Gilbert Murdock

What am I in the eyes of most people - a nonentity, an eccentric, or an unpleasant person - somebody who has no position in society and will never have; in short, the lowest of the low. All right, then - even if that were absolutely true, then I should one day like to show by my work what such an eccentric, such a nobody, has in his heart. That is my ambition, based less on resentment than on love in spite of everything, based more on a feeling of serenity than on passion. Though I am often in the depths of misery, there is still calmness, pure harmony and music inside me. I see paintings or drawings in the poorest cottages, in the dirtiest corners. And my mind is driven towards these things with an irresistible momentum. — Vincent Van Gogh

I like to call amethyst the mother/healer/teacher/lover of the mineral kingdom because it is for lack of a better term an all purpose crystal. Feeling low? It'll help. Feeling lost? It will help. Need your mom? It will help. Need reassurance that you're making a positive choice in your life? It'll help. — David

...My grandpa has always told us that you know you're in love when your heart goes "boom." The way he explained this "boom" is that it's not the giddy feeling you get when you first meet someone; it's deeper than that. It's more of a low, bellowing boom that resonates in your body the moment you realize you need someone, you love someone. It's more a boooom than a boom! I have yet to feel it. — Karyn Bosnak

You think my feelings toward you apathetic? You think you bore me?"
"Don't I?"
He shook his head slowly, continuing toward her, stalking her in the small space.
"No.God knows you are infuriating . And impulsive ... " Her back came up against the wall, and she gave a little squeak, even as he advanced. "And altogether maddening ... " He placed one hand to her jaw, carefully lifting her face to his, feeling the leap of her pulse under his fingertips. "And thoroughly intoxicating ... " The last came out on a low growl, and her lips parted, soft and pink and perfect.
He leaned close, his lips a fraction from hers.
"No ... you are not boring. — Sarah MacLean

I just can't resist mutton biryani. It's something I've loved eating as a child too. Whenever I'm feeling low, I just pep myself with some good biryani. — Riteish Deshmukh

Well, I'm just glad some women watch it,' Dex says, turning his attention to the camera, perhaps feeling the animosity and low self-esteem just reeking from our pores. — Karina Halle

My parents never recognized the things that for me were achievements. I was praised for the things that came naturally to me, like my intelligence, but when I really put all my effort into looking nice (trying to), it went unrecognised. No-one ever told me I looked pretty or nice, or that I was a beautiful person (to them) and I needed them to... — Carol Lee

My brain, my body, my whole life was on fast-forward and I couldn't push stop or even pause. How low it got after, living with what had happened. And then how numb. How much I missed feeling music in my bones. — Emery Lord

When I'm feeling a little low, I put on my favorite high heels to stand a little taller. — Dolly Parton

I quite like Low, the band from Minnesota. They're absolutely mesmerizing. I get much the same feeling from anything that Will Oldham does. — Gavin Rossdale

You first."
"No, you."
"Why?"
"I'm afraid."
"Of what, my Sassenach?" The darkness was rolling in over the fields, filling the land and rising up to meet the night. The light of the new crescent moon marked the ridges of brow and nose, crossing his face with light.
"I'm afraid if I start I shall never stop."
He cast a glance at the horizon, where the sickle moon hung low and rising. "It's nearly winter, and the nights are long, mo duinne." He leaned across the fence, reaching, and I stepped into his arms, feeling the heat of his body and the beat of his heart.
"I love you. — Diana Gabaldon

Feelings follow actions. If I'm feeling low, I deliberately act cheery, and I find myself actually feeling happier. If I'm feeling angry at someone, I do something thoughtful for her and my feelings toward her soften. This strategy is uncannily effective. — Gretchen Rubin

I feel more and more like 'myself' these days. Before becoming a father, I can remember a low-level feeling of somehow not quite being myself. — B. D. Wong

My feeling is, I do a lot of low-budget films. I don't do low-budget acting. I have no interest in just goofballing my way through, thinking, 'Ah, no one's ever going to see this anyway.' — Lance Henriksen

Lindsey looked at him coyly "Grilling is your specialty?" She shook her head. "You really had me fooled."
He set the platter on the island, joined her near the sprawling sectional sofa in the living area, and took her in his arms. She'd never get tired of that feeling.
"Had you fooled how?" he asked.
"I thought kissing was your specialty."
Carden captivated her with his sultry gave. "Grilling ... Kissing ... " He brushed his lips over hers, teasingly light and feathery. "Take your pick, darlin;," he said in a low whisper, pulling her closer ...
"Stay tuned," he said with a rasp in his voice. "I've got a couple other specialties, too. — Tracy March

The opposite of esprit d'escalier is the way that life's embarrassments come back to haunt us even after they're long past. I could remember every stupid thing I'd ever said or done, recall them with picture-perfect clarity. Any time I was feeling low, I'd naturally start to remember other times I felt that way, a hit parade of humiliations coming one after another to my mind. — Cory Doctorow

Every time I create something, just before that there's a kind of - you're feeling very low, you're feeling very down and insecure. Then you create and then it's fine. This is the way I observe me doing it. — Yoko Ono

I'm in love with mary jane. she's my main thing. she makes me feel alright. she makes my heart sing. and when I'm feeling low, she comes as no suprise. turns me on with her love, takes me to paradiiiiise do you love me mary jane, yeah now do you think you love me mary jane don't you play no game ... — Rick James

I always have the feeling in these low states that something good is about to happen. That's when I feel the fullest, the rawest, the closest to myself. — Nastassja Kinski

The feeling of being trapped, of being helpless against his strength, his lust, and what my body needed was almost overwhelming. My eyes shuttered closed at the effort of not struggling in his harsh grasp. He whispered against my face, and I could not focus enough to see him. "Do you want to ride the storm?" His breath was hot against my skin. His voice promised no gentleness, no compromise. I knew the kind of sex he was offering, and the thought of it tightened things low in my body, drew another small sound from my throat. "Yes," I whispered, "yes." The roll of thunder echoed down the hallway, shuddering between the stone walls. The sound seemed to vibrate out of his body and into mine as if my body were a tuning fork struck against the rim of some great metal cup. His voice growled against my skin, with the taste of thunder in it. "Good," he said and forced me to my knees. — Laurell K. Hamilton

The lesson of the Funk Dog: You can forget what it used to feel like to feel good about life; feeling rotten - or just a low-grad funk - seems normal and therefore acceptable. I just don't believe that God intended for any of his creatures to be petted with sticks. — Jill Conner Browne

I don't feel great, but I also don't feel terrible, either, and I guess that's how normal people feel most of the time. They live in the space between black and white, and their ups and downs are various shades of gray, not the extreme highs and lows I've always thought of as normal. I think that's one of the major differences between us and them, between addicts and Normies. Somewhere along the line we got stuck on this roller coaster that only knows how to go to the highest up and the lowest low. We get high so we can feel invincible and perfect, but the feeling never lasts. Gravity always wins, and we fall fast, to a place lower and darker than many people will probably ever know. And the crazy thing is that this is just normal for us. We cycle through these extremes all the time, and it's become as natural as breathing. Exhausting, but natural. — Amy Reed

My homesickness wasn't truly for home, I realized. It was for something more elusive. A silent, low-grade, unnamed yearning persisted inside me. It was always there, a reaching feeling that grew stronger when I was alone and listened for it. The rain understood what it was. — Caragh M. O'Brien

And now come with me, for I have kept you too long from your gondola: come with me, on an autumnal morning, to a low wharf or quay at the extremity of a canal, with long steps on each side down to the water, which latter we fancy for an instant has become black with stagnation; another glance undeceives us,
it is covered with the black boats of Venice. We enter one of them, rather to try if they be real boats or not, than with any definite purpose, and glide away; at first feeling as if the water were yielding continually beneath the boat and letting her sink into soft vacancy. — John Ruskin

If I'm feeling in a naughty mood, I'll steal some of Mama's Creme De La Mer. If I'm feeling in a very naughty mood, I'll steal some of Daddy's Creme De La Mer. On the whole though, I'm very low maintenance. — Amber Le Bon

My blood rose, mixing with my lingering fear of the unknown to drive her to a fever pitch. Her lips touched my lower neck and vertigo spun the room, burning tracings of desire to settle deep and low in me. I exhaled into the promise of more to come, calling it to me. I breathed it in like smoke, the rising passion starting a feeling of abandonment inside. I didn't care anymore if it was right or wrong. It just was. — Kim Harrison

Writer's block comes from the feeling that one is doing the
wrong thing or doing the right thing badly. Fiction written for
the wrong reason may fail to satisfy the motive behind it and
thus may block the writer, as I've said; but there is no wrong
motive for writing fiction. At least in some instances, good
fiction has come from the writer's wish to be loved, his wish
to take revenge, his wish to work out his psychological woes,
his wish for money, and so on. No motive is too low for art;
finally it's the art, not the motive, that we judge. — John Gardner

Feeling would not last long. Something would turn up to scare it away. Once, I remember, we came upon a man-of-war anchored off the coast. There wasn't even a shed there, and she was shelling the bush. It appears the French had one of their wars going on thereabouts. Her ensign dropped limp like a rag; the muzzles of the long eight-inch guns stuck out all over the low hull; the greasy, slimy swell swung — Joseph Conrad