I'm Like A Wind Quotes & Sayings

I recently declined to support a Conservative function because I'm so incensed about these wind turbines. Like all so-called climate-change doubters, I am very pro the environment, but I strongly believe that it is something that can only be cured locally. Some insane overall scheme isn't going to cure all the problems. — Tim Rice

I'm a very, very handsome man, and have had to come to terms with it ... um, do I like the way I look? In the right light, and with a following wind. — Rob Brydon

But if it's tolerable mediocrity, and you're like, 'Well, you know it could be worse. At least I'm getting paid.' Then you wind up in a job that is slowly killing your soul and you're allowing that to happen. Comfort can be a very, very dangerous thing. — Tim Ferriss

[Anne, commenting on city life]
I think I would probably come to the conclusion that I'd like it for a while ... but in the end, I'd still prefer the sound of the wind in the firs across the brook more than the tinkling of crystal. — L.M. Montgomery

It frightens me that I can't do anything sensible about it."
"Are you scared that you'll wind up with a boring job where you have to see the same people every day and drink instant coffee?"
"I'm more scared that I'll forget the feeling I have now."
"Kind of like how you forgot how it feels to be three years old."
"That surely I'll wind up thinking I was so young, I didn't really understand everything. It bothers me that I know I will be wrong. — Gunnar Ardelius

She was walking toward the beauty shop when Shay came out the door moving fast. The first thing Jill noticed was Shay's hair and how it appeared really big. As Shay drew closer, Jill realized she looked like she was wearing a mask with big blue streaks over the eyes and giant red pouty lips. "What happened to you?" Jill asked in shock. "I'm not sure," Shay said, looking just as stunned. "One minute, I was reading a magazine, and the next, two women that looked like Dolly Parton descended on me like vultures. They started putting stuff on my face, then they did all kinds of things to my hair." Anne walked out of the shop next; her Napoleon hat 'do rode higher than ever. Ella followed with her little red hair ball reinflated. "Doesn't Shay just look beautiful?" Ella chirped. She looked like a hooker who'd just survived a wind tunnel, but Jill nodded and tried to smile. — Robin Alexander

Little bits of Norwegian came to me by a kind of aural osmosis. The most surprising linguistic fact I learned was the impoverishment of that language in swear words. In fact, there is only one- 'farn'- which merely means something like 'devil take it!', but is considered very rude by a well brought-up Viking. It has to pass muster for most of the everyday tragedies that beset an expedition. If a finger is hammered, you jump up and down and cry 'farn'; if you drop an outstanding fossil irretrievably into the sea, you splutter for a while and then mutter 'farn' under your breath. If all your provisions were carried away by a hurricane and death were guaranteed, all the poor Norwegian could do would be to stand on the shingle and cry 'farn' into the wind. Somehow this does not seem adequate for the occasion. — Richard Fortey

You always want to break away from your parents, and you always think, 'I'm never going to be like that guy.' What I've discovered is you kind of wind up becoming your parents, which is also a cliche in itself. My father, despite the fact that he's been dead for over 25 years, he's been a huge influence on me. — Loudon Wainwright III

I'm starting to feel like an old man
alone in a small boat
In a snowfall of blossoms,
Only the south wind for company,
Drifting downriver, the beautiful costumes of spring
Approaching me down the runway
of all I've ever wished for.
Voices from long ago floating across the water.
How to account for
my single obsession about the past?
How to account for
these blossoms as white as an autumn frost?
Dust of the future baptizing our faithless foreheads.
Alone in a small boat, released in a snowfall of blossoms. — Charles Wright

My gaze crept to where Sadi stood only a few feet from her, breathing heavily. Her white blouse was torn. Buttons popped and missing. Her normally coiffed hair looked like she'd been inside a wind tunnel, but the best part? Fingernail marks were etched down the side of Sadi's face and reddish-blue blood had been drawn. A disturbing level of pride rippled through me. Kitten got claws and then some. "She doesn't play nice with others," Sadi huffed out. "So I'm in the process of adjusting her attitude." "And I'm in the process of getting ready to cut out your heart, bitch." In spite of everything that was so damn messed up, my lips twitched into a small smile. "Get out. — Jennifer L. Armentrout

Sometimes life is intensely interesting and meaningful, and this meaning seems to be an objective fact, like sunlight. At other times it's as meaningless and futile as the wind. We accept this eclipse of meaning as we accept changes in the weather. If I wake up with a bad cold or a headache, I seem to be deaf to meaning. Now if I woke up physically deaf or half-blind, I'd feel there was something wrong and consult a doctor. But when I'm deaf to meaning, I accept it as something natural. Esmond didn't accept it as natural. And he also noticed that every time we're sexually stimulated, meaning returns. We can hear again. So he pursued sex as a way of recovering meaning. — Colin Wilson

An ear-splitting screech pierced the silence, followed by another, striking his ears like metal against a hollow bell. The woosh woosh of wind being displaced brought Andrew's attention skyward, and a glacial gust of paralyzing terror raced up his spine. The creature opened its mouth, and a blazing shaft of fire bellowed from above. Andrew barely had enough time to back beneath an awning for protection. Egnatious and Sebastian dove to the side while Firen sidestepped her impending doom, raising the katana in challenge.
The screeching returned, except now the howls were coming from every direction.
Firen's chest heaved. "Did you see that?" she asked, her stormy eyes glinting with rapture and daring as she held her katana out, preparing for the next attack.
"Did I see the dragon?" Sebastian asked, hysteria dangerously rising to the surface. He stood and brushed himself off. "Yes, I bloody well did see that enormous, scaly, fire-breathing dragon. — Laura Kreitzer

Sam, no!" Edilio snapped.
Sam missed a step, then stopped. He looked at Edilio, puzzled.
"We're scattered. And we can't risk you. You die and the light dies with you."
"Are you out of your mind? You think I'm going to let Drake come in here and take Diana?"
"Not you, Sam. Dekka, yes. Orc, yes. He's out there, too. And send Jack as well. Anyone but you."
Sam looked like he'd been punched. Like someone had knocked the wind out of him. He blinked and started to say something and stopped.
"You aren't replaceable, Sam. Figure it out, okay? It's going dark and you make light. So this isn't going to be your battle. Not now. It's on the rest of us to step up. — Michael Grant

I hear the wind call my name
The sound that leads me home again
It sparks up the fire - a flame that still burns
To you I'll always return

I know the road is long
But where you are is home
Wherever you stay-I'll find the way
I'll run like the river-I'll follow the sun
I'll fly like an eagle
To where I belong

I can't stand the distance
I can't dream alone
I can't wait to see you-yes I'm on my way home

Now I know it's true
My every road leads to you
And in the hour of darkness,
Your light gets me through

You run like the river-you shine like the sun
Yeah
You fly like an eagle-yeah you are the one
I seen every sunset and with all that I've learned
Oh, it's to you, I will always, always, return — Bryan Adams

So what does Tod look like? Whitewashed skeleton skulking around in a black cape and hood? Carrying a scythe? 'Cause I'm thinking that would cause mass panic in the hospital." ... "Do you chase after a funeral processions in a long, dirty dress, hair trailing behind you in the wind? I shot him a mock frown. "Have you been following me again? — Rachel Vincent

Cocky much?" I muttered, hanging my arm out the window like Jesse was. I opened my hand and splayed my fingers to feel the wind rushing through them.
"Only when a pretty girl is sitting next to me and trying her hardest to pretend I'm the most irritating thing in the world," he replied, staring at the road and smiling. — Nicole Williams

I'm saying your name in the grocery store, I'm saying your name on the bridge at dawn. Your name like an animal covered with frost, your name like a music that's been transposed, a suit of fur, a coat of mud, a kick in the pants, a lungful of glass, the sails in wind and the slap of waves on the hull ... — Richard Siken

Whether people know it or not, I'm a big nature guy. I like snowboarding, I like fishing, and those are my ways to wind down. — Daymond John

Her normally coiffed hair looked like she'd been inside a wind tunnel, but the best part?
Fingernail marks were etched down the side of Sadi's face and reddish-blue blood had been drawn. A disturbing level of pride rippled through me.
Kitten got claws and then some.
"She doesn't play nice with others," Sadi huffed out. "So I'm in the process of adjusting her attitude."
"And I'm in the process of getting ready to cut out your heart, bitch."
In spite of everything that was so damn messed up, my lips twitched into a small smile. — Jennifer L. Armentrout

My mother, who is a pianist and a fine artist, purchased a piano for me. Twice. This was back when I was a small girl. Pianos, of course, came complete with the quintessential piano teacher who whacked my hand with a stick each time I struck the wrong key. I learned a few pieces, yes, but eventually my pen compelled me to write too much and the sound of the leaves rustling in the wind compelled me to climb trees too often. Sorry mom. Coincidentally, books come from trees and flipping the pages sounds like wind through leaves ... hhhmmmm ... I guess I'm still just climbing trees now, but in a different way! — C. JoyBell C.

I like to escape; I like to write when I go on a walk - I'm kind of very fairy that way. I get inspired by the wind. Or when I daydream, that's when I write. — Imelda May

derelict. my voice cracked and yolk poured out. wind chimes rigid, no breeze, no song. my wings found hidden in your suitcase. pleas for help mistaken for a swan song. i'm stuffing pages from my journal down my throat as kindling. hoping the smoke will get the taste of you out of my mouth. he looks at me from across the room and all i want is to push him against the wall. ravage. ravage. carnage has never been more vogue. is it still art if it doesn't bring you to your knees? lover, let me prey at your altar. let me bare my fangs in praise. don't i look so pretty in a funeral shroud? i keep time with the click of my creaking bones. dance with me under the milky translucence of a world suffocating. how did you find me? i buried myself beneath the cicadas. is a girl trapped in glass still a prize?
let me get under your skin. i want to know what your fears taste like. i want to consume. — Taylor Rhodes

I like girls who like the countryside, put on walking boots and can bend with the wind a bit. If you're going to live with me, you need to be able to embrace the countryside and wet dogs. — Jay Kay

Finally I find it, the book, but as I'm pulling it out of the stack I hear a noise coming from my toy room. It sounds like scratching or scraping maybe and my mind instantly goes to the possibility that maybe it's a monster or a dragon or something else with claws. My hand shakes a little as I stand up and turn back toward the room. When I step into it, I feel the wind hit my cheeks. I shine the light around and notice one of the windows is open. I don't understand why. I didn't open it and I don't think it was open when I came down here. What if it was a monster?
I sweep the flashlight around the room at all my toys as I start back toward the corner. Then the light lands on something tall ... I hear voices. Ones that don't sound like they belong to a monster, but just people. But that's what they end up being.
Terrible, horrible monsters. — Jessica Sorensen

I can see myself watching him shave every morning. And at other time I see us in that house and see how one bright day (or a day like this, so cold your mind shifts every time the wind does) he will wake up and decide it's all wrong. I'm sorry, he'll say. I have to leave now. — Junot Diaz

I do feel that I've managed to make something I could maybe call my world ... over time ... little by little. And when I'm inside it, to some extent, I feel kind of relieved. But the very fact I felt I had to make such a world probably means that I'm a weak person, that I bruise easily, don't you think? And in the eyes of society at large, that world of mine is a puny little thing. It's like a cardboard house: a puff of wind might carry it off somewhere. — Haruki Murakami

How about a little teaser from CROWN OF ICE?

Thyra Winther, the current Snow Queen speaks about her "home":

At night the palace's crystal halls are tinged sapphire. One of the first bits of magic that Voss taught me was to set the carved walls alight so that I'm not forced to walk the halls in darkness. I conjure a cold light that glows within the thick walls without melting the ice. I mastered this trick quickly once I knew what those shadows held. If I leave an area in darkness, they come - the girls who reigned as Snow Queen before me.
"I must find it." Their hollow words wind about me like a shroud. "The last piece. I must place it. Give it to me. — Vicki L. Weavil

He walks with the ease of someone with places to go but time to get there. I'm entranced by the fluidity of his movement, like the way he bites on his finger then flicks it skyward to make a point, to test the wind, to show he's thinking. How he plucks a stem of grass and places it between his teeth. — Stacey Lee

Yes, [Philadelphia is] horrible, but in a very interesting way. There were places there that had been allowed to decay, where there was so much fear and crime that just for a moment there was an opening to another world. It was fear, but it was so strong, and so magical, like a magnet, that your imagination was always sparking in PhiladelphiaI just have to think of Philadelphia now, and I get ideas, I hear the wind, and I'm off into the darkness somewhere. — David

O youth! youth! you have no concerns, you possess, as it were, all the treasures of the universe, even grief is a comfort to you, even sadness suits your looks, you are self-assured and bold, you say: 'Look, I'm the only one alive!' while the very days of your life run away and vanish without a trace and without number and everything in you disappears like wax, like snow in the hear of the sun... And perhaps the entire et of your charm consists not in the possibility of doing everything, but in the possibility of thinking perhaps it consists precisely in the fact that you want only to scatter on the wind energies that you wouldn't know how to use for anything else, perhaps it consists in the fact that each one of us seriously regards himself as a spendthrift and seriously considers that he has the right to say: 'Oh, the things I could have done if only I hadn't wasted my time! — Ivan Turgenev

After an hour my senses begin to vibrate in a definite rhythm, I tune into the great stillness, I tune in. I gaze at the crescent moon sitting like a white shell in the sky, and I have a feeling of love for it, I feel I'm blushing. It's the moon, I say softly and passionately, it's the moon! And my heart beats toward it with a gentle throbbing. It lasts for several minutes. It blows a little, a strange wind is coming, an unusual blast of air. What is it? I look around and see no one. The wind calls me and my soul bows in answer to the call,37 I feel myself lifted out of my sphere, pressed to an invisible breast, my eyes are moist with tears, I tremble - God is somewhere near looking at me. This lasts for another few minutes. I turn my head, the strange blast of air is gone, and I see something like the back of a spirit wandering soundlessly through the forest. . . . — Knut Hamsun

We wind our way up the spiral staircase and then down the long hallway that leads to his room. I feel almost like I'm watching the scene unfold from outside my body. My fingers are interlocked with his as he pulls me toward a moment that's going to change everything. We are ten steps away. Five steps. I can't decide. But then I do. — Paula Stokes

ten years of whorehouse joy I'm alone now in the mountains the pines are like a jail the wind scratches my skin Ikky — Stephen Berg

I stand on the corner of the block slinging
amethyst rocks. Drinkin 40's of mother
earth's private nectar stock. Dodgin cops.
'Cause Five-O be the 666 and I need a fix
of that purple rain. The type of shit that
drives membranes insane. Oh yeah, I'm in
the fast lane. Snorting candy yams. That free
my body and soul and send me like Shazaam!
Never question who I am. God knows.
And I know God, personally. In fact, he
lets me call him me. I be one with rain
and stars and things, with dancing feet
and watermelon wings. I bring the
sunshine and the moon. And wind blows
my tune. — Saul Williams

The rain picks up outside. It hits and slams against the window, but I think it sounds like music
a light mix of tambourine and cymbals. The wind sounds like a guitar, all low, melancholy notes. Thunder takes the drums. I'm quiet as I listen to the song. — Katie Kacvinsky

I hear. Nobody thinks so. But I do. Sometimes people whisper. Sometimes they yell. Sometimes they say mean things. I see more than the TV. It's my friend. I don't have any others, like the kids on Barney do. Why are people afraid of me? I don't want to hurt them. I taste only the sweet air, whooshed through tubes to help me breathe. If I'm lucky a bit of flavor comes with the wind or skin or clothes I smell. I wish my mouth would let me tell Mama I love her. Let me tell Daddy I ms him. Let me tell Shane how good I feel when I see him happy with Alex. I like when I swim because when I float, I am free. I like when I sleep because I dance when I dream. I hear, I see, I taste, I smell, I feel, I dream. — Ellen Hopkins

Here's what I think, Mr. Wind-Up Bird," said May Kasahara. "Everybody's born with some different thing at the core of their existence. And that thing, whatever it is, becomes like a heat source that runs each person from the inside. I have one too, of course. Like everybody else. But sometimes it gets out of hand. It swells or shrinks inside me, and it shakes me up. What I'd really like to do is find a way to communicate that feeling to another person. But I can't seem to do it. They just don't get it. Of course, the problem could be that I'm not explaining it very well, but I think it's because they're not listening very well. They pretend to be listening, but they're not, really. So I get worked up sometimes, and I do some crazy things. — Haruki Murakami

She looks at me, square in the eye. Taking aim. And then she pulls the trigger. "Because I hated you."
The wind, the noise, it all just goes quiet for a second, and I'm left with a dull ringing in my ear, like after a show, like after a heart monitor goes to flatline.
"Hated me? Why?"
"You made me stay." She says it quietly, and it almost gets lost in the wind and the traffic and I'm not sure I heard her. But then she repeats it louder this time. "You made me stay!"
And there it is. A hollow blown through my heart, confirming what some part of me has always known.
She knows. — Gayle Forman

I'm a person that doesn't have that many goals or plans. I feel like I'm the wind and I blow through life; it's whatever comes to me. I very much respect nature. Whatever happens to me, I'm happy and I embrace it. — Bai Ling

Why not? Tell me. You owe me this!" She looks at me, square in the eye. Taking aim. And then she pulls the trigger. "Because I hated you." The wind, the noise it all just goes quiet for a second, and I'm left with a dull ringing in my ear, like a after a show, like a after a heart monitor goes to flatline. "Hated me? Why?" "Because you made me stay. — Gayle Forman

I'm going to say this one time and one time only, so you had better listen up. The world is going to hell in a hand basket. We got Jacque running off into ponds like a crazy woman; Fane thinking he's Aqua Man, diving in after her and getting his ass captured by the wicked witch; we have freak lightening shows; thunder that shakes the ground; and wind strong enough to knock you over. And you know what's really scary? It's going to get worse before it gets better. The fan is broken from all the shit that has hit it. Yes, I have a potty mouth. I get to have one when the world as we know it is crumbling around us. — Quinn Loftis

I don't know, my music has always just come from where the wind blew me. Like where I'm at during a particular moment in time. — Tom Petty

I am fundamentally happy. Everyone has experiences that makes them cynical, jaded or unhappy - you just have to fight those things off. I have totally emotional days when I cry and get insecure. PMS weirded out, doomed and tragic. I mean, I'm definitely not just a lollipop, happy in the wind girl. I'm human just like everyone else, but I think that it would be tragic to be on your deathbed and think, 'I could've I should've.' That gets me out of bed everyday. I can't even last like an hour in bed in the morning. I have to get out there and live. — Drew Barrymore

I can't just take it.'
'You can. I'm giving it to you.' She affirms, glimpsing quickly up at me and then down to the floor, moving her foot once and then back again. Still her hand is offered to me, still flinching with the ring in her palm.
'What do you want for it?'
'Nothing.'
'You must want something.'
'I... got what I wanted.' She smiles, such a light, smooth movement of her lips, but it dies out so quickly, like a candle light being blown in the wind.
'What's that?'
'I got to see you again, to give it to you. — Charlotte Munro

Mason, I'm ruined. I can never give you what you deserve. I'm incapable of loving someone like - like you want. I will never be able to do it right. I will never deserve to be loved."

My breathing is erratic. I shove myself to my knees and grasp her arms, pulling her toward me once again. "Sometimes never is a distorted perception. I love you, Hope. And I'm not the only one. I know you care about me. I see it in your eyes. I feel it. Everybody needs love. Everybody. And some people need it more than others. You're a liar if you say you don't. I'll do that for you. I'll love you. All you have to do is let me."

The wind whispers against my back as if giving me a nudge toward her and I take it as a sign. I propel myself into her, pushing my bare skin to hers. I need to feel her. I need her to feel me.

This is real. — Cheryl McIntyre

Sometimes when I'm dancing and don't put in enough hairspray, I wind up looking like a ... what's the animal with needles? Porcupine. — Eva Simons

I'm not a fan of 'Gone With the Wind.' I didn't like the movie. I didn't like the book. — Octavia Spencer

When everyone you loved in your life is gone, you have days when the wind comes into your house like a person. You get so alone the wind sits down at your table and tries to have itself a cup of coffee, but it can't, there's no time, it has to move on, it's the wind. I'm not saying the wind is a ghost, only that the feeling is of the wind, the whole notion of the wind, is different when all people you ever loved are gone. It's not fresh air blowing through your hair and airing out your sheets and kitchen. No, sir. It's company. The wind is company that has to go — Jane McCafferty

Your words like wings gravity they defy.
My heart like a leaf on the wind catchin' rides.
We make too much sense to foolishly pass it by.
So I'm taking a rainbow up to the 5th floor.
Steppin' out to see that you're really worth more. — Group 1 Crew

A girl like me?"
"Yeah, a girl like you." Cash's lids drop down part way over his eyes, making them look like heavy, bedroom eyes, and his voice is like the silk sheets I can imagine him sleeping on. "Feisty, sexy, gorgeous as hell. I bet you've never met a man you couldn't wind around your little finger."
He's watching me like he wants to undress me right where we are - in an empty bar with low light and soft music. And there's a tiny part of me that would love for him to do exactly that. — M. Leighton

A few minutes later, he said suddenly: 'Kath, can we stop? I'm sorry, I need to get out a minute.'
... I could make out in the mid-distance, near where the field began to fall away, Tommy's figure, raging, shouting, flinging his fists and kicking out. I caught a glimpse of his face in the moonlight, caked in mud and distorted with fury, then I reached for his failing arms and held on tight. He tried to shake me off, but I kept holding on, until he stopped shouting and I felt the fight go out of him. Then I realised he too had his arms around me. And so we stood together like that, at the top of the field, for what seemed like ages, not saying anything, just holding each other, while the wind kept blowing and blowing at us, tugging our clothes, and for a moment, it seemed like we were holding onto each other because that was the only way to stop us being swept away into the night. — Kazuo Ishiguro

Jill told me that when you're really in love, you know right away. I'm not exactly sure how this happens. Is it like a flash of lightning? Like an angel tapping you on the shoulder? Or is it similar to choosing a puppy? You think you're picking the cutest one, but really you wind up going home with the one who keeps insisting on climbing into your lap. — Alice Hoffman

I go to open my window as if I'm expecting to find some answers. A 23rd floor wind blows in. It wakes me up. While I'm looking out of the window, my husband enters as if he has been outside all this time. He crawls in like a six-legged bug looking for shelter from the wind. He is so beautiful & so dark at the same time, like he is offering me love & pain on the same tray. — Szilvia Molnar

I live like a cuckoo in a clock,
I'm not jealous of the forest birds.
They wind me up - and I cuckoo.
You know - such a fate
I could only wish
For someone I hate. — Anna Akhmatova

I'm here, I said, and it felt shockingly comforting, those words. When I'm panicked, I say them aloud to myself. I'm here. I don't usually feel that I am. I feel like a warm gust of wind could exhale my way and I'd be disappeared forever, not even a sliver of fingernail left behind. On some days, I find this thought calming; on others it chills me. — Gillian Flynn

I had my Boswell, once," Mason tells Boswell, "Dixon and I. We had a joint Boswell. Preacher nam'd Cherrycoke. Scribbling ev'rything down, just like you, Sir. Have you," twirling his Hand in Ellipses, - "you know, ever . . . had one yourself? If I'm not prying." "Had one what?" "Hum . . . a Boswell, Sir, - I mean, of your own. Well you couldn't very well call him that, being one yourself, - say, a sort of Shadow ever in the Room who has haunted you, preserving your ev'ry spoken remark, - " "Which else would have been lost forever to the great Wind of Oblivion, - think," armsweep south, "as all civiliz'd Britain gathers at this hour, how much shapely Expression, from the titl'd Gambler, the Barmaid's Suitor, the offended Fopling, the gratified Toss-Pot, is simply fading away upon the Air, out under the Door, into the Evening and the Silence beyond. All those voices. Why not pluck a few words from the multitudes rushing toward the Void of forgetfulness? — Thomas Pynchon

I'm like one of those leaves on the city ground, who lived thinking it would be everlasting and died without knowing exactly why; who loved the sun and the moon and who watched those buses and rattling streetcars go by for a long time, and yet no one ever had the courtesy to let her know that winter existed. They lived it up, until one day they began to turn yellow and the tree bid them farewell. It didn't say "see you later" but "good-bye," knowing the leaves would never be back. And it asked the wind for help loosening them from their branches and carrying them far away. The tree knows it can grow only if it rests. And if it grows, it will be respected. And can produce even more beautiful flowers. — Paulo Coelho

Inspiration hits me at the most annoying times. Like when I am on my bicycle going back home from the studio at 3 a.m.. I've many crackly recordings into my mobile phone practically inaudible from the wind rushing into the handset! — Imogen Heap

The guy who was punching me was a lot burlier than I was, so it hurt plenty. But I tried to pretend it didn't bother me at all, that I actually liked it. It was hard to do this convincingly, because he had kind of knocked the wind out of me there, so all I could do was smile and wink and give him the thumbs up while I waited to be able to breath again. He thought I was making fun of him and started punching me in the stomach harder. Meanwhile, I'm not any closer to getting my breath back. Some days are like that. — John Swartzwelder

I like big books and I cannot lie.
You other readers can't deny
That when a kid walks in with The Name of the Wind
Like a hardbound brick of win.
Story bling.
Wanna swipe that thing
Cause you see that boy is speeding
Right through the book he's reading.
I'm hooked and I can't stop pleading.
Wanna curl up with that for ages,
All thousand pages.
Reviewers tried to warn me.
But with that plot you hooked
Me like Bradley.
Ooh, crack that fat spine.
You know I wanna make you mine.
This book is stella 'cause it ain't some quick novella. — Jim C. Hines

I'm going to do whatever the world tells me to. I'm going to act like I'm in a goddamn Bob Dylan song and blow in the direction of the wind. I'm going to pretend my future's wide open, and that anything can happen. — Nicola Yoon

If you fall and break something, I'm going to be irritated."
Daemon grabbed my arm as I started to slip.
"Sorry, not all of us can be as awesome
" I squealed as he slid an arm around my back and lifted be into his arms. Daemon zipped us up the driveway, wind and snow blowing at my face. He put me down, and I stumbled to the side, dizzy. "Could you give me a warning next time?"
He grinned as he knocked on the door. "And miss that look on your face? Never."
Sometimes I seriously wanted to just punch him in the face, but it made me warm in all the right place to see this side of him again, too.
"You're insufferable."
"You like my kind of suffering. — Jennifer L. Armentrout

No, my eldest brother. He was named after our father. Our parents died when the Romans first invaded, and Stephano then became the "head of the family". " She grimaced. "He and I are like oil and water. Or we were. We get along well enough now, though." She grinned. "But boy did he pitch a fit over the concubine thing. He even called in Uncle Lucian to deal with me."

Harper's eyebrows rose. "I'm surprised Lucian bothered to intervene."

..."Yes, well..." Drina grimaced. "I'm afraid while I was een as a concubine, I was really playing puppet master with my lover and kind of ruling the country though him. At least until Uncle Lucian caught wind of it and came to give me hell. — Lynsay Sands

And His Word can come through the trees like wind. "I was hungry and you fed me, I was thirsty and you gave me a drink, I was homeless and you gave me a room, I was shivering and you gave me clothes, I was sick and you stopped to visit, I was in prison and you came to me . . . I'm telling the solemn truth: Whenever you did one of these things to someone overlooked or ignored, that was me - you did it to me."3 — Ann Voskamp

Whatever this shit is between us it's always been there and it's always gonna be there. I'm shit-fuckin'-tired tryin' to ignore it. I'll try to do right by you Eva, you'd be the first, but I'll fuckin' try my damndest. And baby, true freedom is the open road, the wind on your face and a good woman on the back of your bike holdin' you tight like you're her reason for breathin' because she sure as fuck is yours. — Madeline Sheehan

I'm into the lyrical side of rap. I listen to some old Eminem songs and think, 'Wow, he's a genius.' He's one of the greatest poets of our time. Even when he's out of control, like on 'Cold Wind Blows,' it's incredible. — Phoebe Tonkin

I told Bernie Taupin that his best lyrics were for Song For Guy just because it doesn't have any words in it. But there you go ... I'm a wind up! But a good Elton song for karaoke is I Guess That's Why They Call It The Blues ... "laughing like children, living like lovers, rolling like thunder under the covers ... " Everyone can join in! — Matt Lucas

I feel like somebody just punched me in the stomach and knocked all my wind out. I'm only 30 years old and I want to have a chance to continue creating things. I know I've got at least one more great computer in me. And Apple is not going to give me a chance to do that. — Steve Jobs

I stand still for a long time, holding the note, and let it all sink in. Her leaving is almost palpable like a gale-force wind that's rolled into my life in the span of a single evening and left behind all this incalculable destruction, both inside and out. Yes, the tempest has passed, but the air around me feels different. I can hardly breathe. Nothing is the same without her. As the lone survivor of her particular storm, I begin to wonder just exactly what I'm supposed to do now. — Katherine Owen

I'm walking past the Unitarian church that's not far from the cemetery where you can find Emily Dickinson's grave, when I realize that in this part of my life I've become a scarecrow. It's been like this since that day the police came to the house - I have holes in me, and wind blows through. Oh, I seem to be person-shaped all right, but I'm going nowhere. — Kathryn Burak

Then I noticed that my shadow was crying too, shedding clear, sharp shadow tears. Have you ever seen the shadows of tears, Mr. Wind-Up Bird? They're nothing like ordinary shadows. Nothing at all. They come here from some other, distant world, especially for our hearts. Or maybe not. It struck me then that the tears my shadow was shedding might be the real thing, and the tears that I was shedding were just shadows. You don't get it, I'm sure, Mr. Wind-Up Bird. When a naked seventeen-year-old girl is shedding tears in the moonlight, anything can happen. It's true. — Haruki Murakami

One day [when I relapsed] I walked into a store and saw a little bottle of Jack Daniel's. And then that voice - I call it the 'lower power' - goes, 'Hey. Just a taste. Just one.' I drank it, and there was that brief moment of 'Oh, I'm okay!' But it escalated so quickly. Within a week I was buying so many bottles I sounded like a wind chime walking down the street. — Robin Williams

I am a creator, writing like the wind, I carry the weight of a future world in the barrel of a pen, etching my characters into the paper with life giving ink so my dreams and reality might finally meet. — L.M. Fields

I just like Forrest Gump. Maybe I'm a little smarter than him, maybe I'm not. Probably because of the whole Southern aspect of his character and for some reason I always wind up on the better end of all deals ... I've just kind of got the old silly boy luck! — Luke Bryan

Like a four-sided porch I'm open to all winds. — Luc Sante

As I sounded through the ice I could determine the shape of the bottom with greater accuracy than is possible in surveying harbors which do not freeze over, and I was surprised at its general regularity. In the deepest part there are several acres more level than almost any field which is exposed to the sun, wind, and plow. In one instance, on a line arbitrarily chosen, the depth did not vary more than one foot in thirty rods; and generally, near the middle, I could calculate the variation for each one hundred feet in any direction beforehand within three or four inches. Some are accustomed to speak of deep and dangerous holes even in quiet sandy ponds like this, — Henry David Thoreau

I play golf, but sometimes it's so un-relaxing, I have to play tennis to wind down. Now that I think about it, this process is sort of like when I go out for sushi and have to get a slice of pizza afterward. — Adam Ross

I wouldn't know what to do with daughters,' he says. 'Exchange them for sons?'
'But then I could wind up with something like you.'
'I'm not so bad,' he says. 'I'm smart.'
'You're about a hundred miles away from the town of Smart, my friend.'
'You're mistaken, counselor,' he says. 'I'm smart, I can take care of myself. I'm an awesome tennis player, a keen observer of life around me. I'm a good cook. I always have weed.'
'I'm sure your parents are proud.'
'It's possible.' He looks at his knees and I wonder if I've offended him. — Kaui Hart Hemmings

I had always heard rumors of her, Nanook thought, she who can control the wind, the water, the earth, and fire ... she who can talk to time. But those were old myths of a woman who lived many thousands of years ago, the first daughter of the Earth. There is a prophecy that she will return again, during the end times -- every religion has someone like that, someone to wait for and put your faith in, but my culture had mostly covered up her existence. We had a god of the sea, a god of the land, a god of the air, a god of fire, but no one who could control all of the elements. We spoke, only in whispers, of the ancient bloodline -- the descendents of the Great Mother. Too many superstitious minds, too many men concerned only with their own power and position, had heard these whispers in the past and taken gruesome steps to erase the descendents. The lineage was said to be broken, the blood of the Great Mother spilled for the last time. — Sarah Warden

I know I'm not the kind of person who's gonna wind up a walking jukebox, like many rock 'n' roll artists. They just play their hits and that's it. That doesn't appeal to me. — Carlos Santana

I know I'm not the only one whose life is a conditional clause

hanging from something to do with spring and one tall room
and the tremble of my phone.

I'm not the only one that love makes feel like a dozen

flapping bedsheets being ripped to prayer flags by the wind. — Noah Warren

I have no beginning nor an end,
I have no mother nor a friend.
Seldom do I give you warning or fear,
but when you think of me, you shall shed a tear.
So fair and just I'm known,
Like the wind and air that you cannot own,
On and on I shall continue,
When your heart hardens to a stone — Weina Dai Randel

I am a plant, she said, I need fire, earth, water. Otherwise I will be stunted. And: Is marriage not such a stunting? The fire goes out. The wind grows weak. The earth dries out. The water dwindles. I would die. You too. She tossed her hair over her shoulders. Purple lavender. And what if it wasn't like that, I argued. What if the daily routine, our daily routine, is my promise to you? Your toothbrush next to mine. You get annoyed because I've forgotten to turn the light off in the bathroom. We choose wallpaper we think is horrible a year later. You tell me I'm getting a belly. Your forgetfulness. You've left your umbrella somewhere again. I snore, you can't sleep. In my dream I whisper your name...You tie my tie. Wave goodbye to me as I go to work. I think: you are like a fluttering flag. I think it with a stabbing pain in my heart. For Heaven's sake, is that not enough? Is that not enough to be happy? She turned away: Give me time. I'll think about it. — Milena Michiko Flasar

It's your Christmas present.
What is?
All this. The whole world. The houses, cars, streets, the wind... it's all yours. You can do what you like.
Sorry, but I'm not sure it's a good present. It's windy... ...there's a mist. It's so cold. And this world isn't that good. — Lukas Moodysson

Feels almost like real agent work, doesn't it?" Barron says as we walk down the street, heads bowed against the wind. "You know, if we caught your girlfriend committing a crime, I bet Yulikova would give us a bonus or something for being prize pupils."
"Except that we're not going to do that," I say.
"I thought you wanted us to be good guys." He grins a too-wide grin. He's enjoying needling me, and my reacting only makes it worse, but I can't stop.
"Not if it means hurting her," I say, my voice as deadly as I can make it. "Never her."
"Got it. Hurting, bad. But how do you excuse stalking her and her friends, little brother?"
"I'm not excusing it," I say. "I'm just doing it. — Holly Black

You see, the future is a kind of stew, a soup, a vichyssoise of the present and the past. That's how you get the future: You mix up everything you did today with everything you did yesterday and all the days before and everything everyone you ever met did and anyone they ever met, too. And salt and lizard and pearl and umbrellas and typewriters and a lot of other things I'm not at liberty to tell you, because I took vows, and a witch's vows have teeth. Magic is funny like that. It's not a linear thinker. The point is if you mash it all up together and you have a big enough pot and you're very good at witchcraft, you can wind up with a cauldron full of tomorrow. — Catherynne M Valente

If I ever believe in something again, and it turns out to be false, then not only will my body crumble beneath me, but so will my soul. I'll disintegrate, disappear into the wind and blow away. I'll be nothing. I'll blank out and the energy of who I was will just go away, melt into the ground and come back as something unimportant, like a dandelion or a caterpillar. I can't find it in my heart to care. — C.M. Stunich

Don't ever leave me again," I said in a tiny voice.
I won't," he promised into my hair, sounding most un-Fang-like. "I won't. Not ever."
And just like that, a cold shard of ice that had been inside my chest ever since we'd split up-well, it just disappeared. I felt myself relax for the first time in I don't known how long. The wind was chilly, but the sun was bright, and my whole flock was together. Fang and I were together.
Excuse me? I'm alive too." Iggy's plaintive voice made me pull back. — James Patterson

I am like a little child naked in a strong wind. I have a fever, I shiver, I'm too hot or too cold. My lips retain the unusual fruity taste of your mouth, & the bitter taste of your saliva lingers on my tongue, making me find everything I eat bland, sickening since nothing is as good as your love. — Rachilde

Symptoms of Love ...
The quickening of my heart I can hear my breath as it passes through my body like wind through branches of a tree.
The sensation in my chest the dreams in my head my body reacts as if exposed to a sudden change in the elements.
My mind wanders not focused on one particular thing like an innocent long ago in his youth. Oh how I desire to be with you when our bodies will meet and become one. — M.I. Ghostwriter

Have you ever noticed how as an adult, all the bright colors go out of your life? Now that I'm not a kid anymore, things always look gray, like a clothesline draped with laundry that's been washed too many times and left to stand in the wind. I guess that's what growing up is ... it's a fading photograph. — Rebecca McNutt

I said, "What do I think? That's what I'm asking you? What is there to think?" "Looks like he wants you to be his valentine." "Louise, I can read. But what does it mean?" "Oh, you know. His valentine. His love." There was that hateful word again. That treacherous word that yawned up at you like a volcano. "Well, I won't. Most decidedly I won't. Not ever again." "Have you been his valentine before? What do you mean never again?" I couldn't lie to my friend and I wasn't about to freshen old ghosts. "Well, don't answer him then, and that's the end of it." I was a little relieved that she thought it could be gotten rid of so quickly. I tore the note in half and gave her a part. Walking down the hill we minced the paper in a thousand shreds and gave it to the wind. — Maya Angelou

Strange," he murmurs.
"What's strange?"
"It's just . . ." He pushes his hair back. "You're not like the jinni in the stories and songs. That jinni was a monster. You seem . . . different."
Then he turns and begins trudging up the next dune, wrapping his cloak around him to keep the wind from tearing at it.
I stand still a moment longer, watching him. "Zahra."
He pauses and looks over his shoulder. "What?"
"My name," I stammer. "I mean . . . one of them. You can call me Zahra."
He turns around fully, his grin as wide and as bright as the moon. "I'm Aladdin. — Jessica Khoury

He must notice that I'm not understanding. He dips a finger beneath the surface of the water and pulls up; with a vibrant pulse of his majick, the aqua raises him up until he's on something similar to a pillar and face to face with me. Then despite the language barrier, he speaks slowly and adds hand gestures. Like I'm the lake simpleton. The look on my face must pass along how I feel about it because he stops and laughs, reminding me of the sound wooden wind chimes make on a breezy day. It's deep, peaceful, and resonates with my power; my heart stutters from a mini overload, similar to having drunk too much caffeine. — Sara Brackett

What I'm feeling, I think, is joy. And it's been some time since I've felt that blinkered rush of happiness, This might be one of those rare events that lasts, one that'll be remembered and recalled as months and years wind and ravel. One of those sweet, significant moments that leaves a footprint in your mind. A photograph couldn't ever tell its story. It's like something you have to live to understand. One of those freak collisions of fizzing meteors and looming celestial bodies and floating debris and one single beautiful red ball that bursts into your life and through your body like an enormous firework. Where things shift into focus for a moment, and everything makes sense. And it becomes one of those things inside you, a pearl among sludge, one of those big exaggerated memories you can invoke at any moment to peel away a little layer of how you felt, like a lick of ice cream. The flavor of grace. — Craig Silvey

Charles Wallace looked troubled. I don't think it's that. It's being able to understand a sort of language, like sometimes if I concentrate very hard I can understand the wind talking with the trees. You tell me, you see, sort of inad - inadvertently. That's a good word, isn't it? I got Mother to look it up in the dictionary for me this morning. I really must learn to read, except I'm afraid it will make it awfully hard for me in school next year if I already know things. I think it will be better if people go on thinking I'm not very bright. They won't hate me quite so much. — Madeleine L'Engle

I'm only leaving you
for a handful of days,
but it feels as though
I'll be gone forever - -
the way the door closes
behind me with such solidity,
the way my suitcase
carries everything
I'd need for an eternity
of traveling light.
I've left my hotel number
on your desk, instructions
about the dog and heating dinner. But
like the weather front
they warn is on its way
with its switchblades
of wind and ice,
our lives have minds
of their own. — Linda Pastan

"I might be entertaining the idea of tamping down my nihilism. Just a bit. Not because life is not meaningless - I think that's inarguable. It's just that the constant awareness of its pointlessness is exhausting. I wouldn't mind being oblivious again. I'd love to feel the wind in my face and think, just for minute, that I'm not going to crash into the rocks."
"You're saying you'd like to be happy. — Daryl Gregory

How quiet the woods are today... not a murmur except that soft wind putting in the treetops! It sounds like surf on a faraway shore. How dear the woods are! You beautiful trees! I love every one of you as a friend! — L.M. Montgomery

When forced to leave my house for an extended period of time, I take my typewriter with me, and together we endure the wretchedness of passing through the X-ray scanner. The laptops roll merrily down the belt, while I'm instructed to stand aside and open my bag. To me it seems like a normal enough thing to be carrying, but the typewriter's declining popularity arouses suspicion and I wind up eliciting the sort of reaction one might expect when traveling with a cannon.

It's a typewriter,' I say. 'You use it to write angry letters to airport security. — David Sedaris