Midsection Of Body Quotes & Sayings

Every man's path is for himself; let him accomplish his own desires that he may thus be able to rise above them to the eternal goal. — Hazrat Inayat Khan

Anger rose like bile within his chest. It was her. Ever since he had laid eyes on her she had caused him nothing but confusion and conflict. He had allowed himself to feel ... something. And she had repaid him by pointing his own gun at his face. His fingers touched upon the left side of his face. It still stung, in more ways than one. He pushed at his cheek, wanting to feel the tight, itchy burn just beneath the surface. He should find her. Bring her back. Take control of her and, in the process, himself. Is that the only reason you want her back? He thought of her soft supple body pressed against his, her arms wrapped around his midsection.
He'd let her go, he'd done it through his own stupidity, but he'd let her go. And all he could think about was that she hadn't even looked back. She'd just run away ... from him. — C.J. Roberts

circling the green. She — Louise Penny

Ohhhhhhh," she groaned, jerking up from the reclining seat as the tears exploded. She felt as devastated as if she were still in the body of the grizzled fighting man. Convulsing sobs of remorse tortured her energy body and she rocked it like a baby, holding her midsection, feeling as if her stomach would turn inside out. She struggled to speak, gulping in habit for air that didn't exist, which would have been useless to her energy lungs anyway.
She had to know.
"Who? Who ... was ... he?" she managed in spurts. "The boy - "
"You know the answer already, don't you?" Coriskancsia replied gently. — Lianne Downey

It is acknowledged that neither convict prisons, nor the hulks, nor any system of hard labour ever cured a criminal. These forms of chastisement only punish him and reassure society against the offences he might commit. Confinement, regulation, and excessive work have no effect but to develop with these men profound hatred, a thirst for forbidden enjoyment, and frightful recalcitrations. — Fyodor Dostoyevsky

At the mention of the name and offence of this degraded being a great sound went up from the entire multitude - a universal cry of execration, not greatly dissimilar from that which may be frequently heard in the crowded Temple of Impartiality when the one whose duty it is to take up, at a venture, the folded papers, announces that the sublime Emperor, or some mandarin of exalted rank, has been so fortunate as to hold the winning number in the Annual State Lottery. — Ernest Bramah

You've got to expect things are going to go wrong. And we always need to prepare ourselves for handling the unexpected. — Neil Armstrong

Those who think all religions are the same look at the wrappings instead of the content. — Gene Veith

She had maybe 8 inches of space to work with. That was more than enough. She struck back with her elbow and hit Junior's midsection. Junior coughed out all his breath and crumpled to the ground. He had no air in his lungs with which to speak. His bulging gaze was astonished. It asked her, What the fuck?
So she answered his question. She showed him what the fuck. She kicked him in the chest, using her foot to leverage his body weight. The blow lifted him off the ground and slammed him back into the building. When his three friends rushed her, she showed them what the fuck too. Because Junior wasn't the only one who had a hellish temper.
Claudia had a hellish temper too. — Thea Harrison

Where I come from these days, anybody who isn't seeing a therapist needs to. — Edna Buchanan

I've been stung by bees before, but it's never been this bad. It's like having PMS bloat throughout my whole body instead of just my midsection. — Cat Patrick

You like this?" he said, thrusting with every word. "You like this. Worthless. Street. Punk. Fucking. You? — C.D. Reiss

Content thyself to be obscurely good. When vice prevails, and impious men bear sway, the post of honor is a private station. — Joseph Addison

Reality simply consists of different points of view. — Margaret Atwood