No Weight Chest Quotes & Sayings

Her weight settled on her back foot as she crossed her arms over her chest and stared at him, now legitimately baffled.

"How delusional are you, aliens in your head notwithstanding? — G.S. Jennsen

I felt a weight on my chest; a sense of hot indignation which settled down into inconceivable melancholy. — Dinah Maria Mulock Craik

A metaphorical weight lifted from his allegorical chest and Artemis Fowl felt himself again. — Eoin Colfer

There was a cheer, and he took his first deep breath for months. He hadn't been aware of breathing shallowly. It had happened gradually; someone had put a penny on his chest every hour since November, and now the weight of thousands of pennies had lifted at once — Natasha Pulley

Butch nodded, finding as comfortable a bite as he could on the leather. He braced himself as V lifted an arm.
Except when his roommate's palm landed on his bare chest all he felt was a warm weight. Butch frowned. This was it? This was fucking it? Scaring the shit out of Marissa for no good-
He looked down, pissed off.
Oh, wrong hand. — J.R. Ward

I carry this thing between us, like a weight. A good weight, in my pocket. I reach out and hold it from time to time like a wonderful secret. I will always have that. I will never feel this way about another woman, ever. My heart will be yours forever, no matter who shares your bed, no matter whose children you bear. I'm here." He tapped her chest. "And you're here." He tapped his own. — Lauren Dane

My body shakes with a million different fires. Feet that look like yours warp and the corns split so you see craters of infinite variety, some pus-filled Lake Toba. The weakness in my limbs, the thick weight on my head and chest and the slow burning inside me that never reaches the skin, bring me closer to you. My afflictions bring me closer to you. — Jinat Rehana Begum

How is it that we carry the weight of the world on our shoulders, but we have to get it off our chest? — Non Nomen

I did not love less; indeed I loved more. But the weight of love, like that of an arm thrown tenderly across a chest, becomes little by little too heavy to bear. — Marguerite Yourcenar

This time I watch him carefully, calculating everyone of his movements. Everything seems flawless, until I go to pick up my dealt cards. I noticed some shift his weight forward and scratch his leg. I swear to God it looks if you take something out from underneath his ass.
"Wait a minute." I raise a finger, setting my cards down as I lean forward. "Did you just take the card out from under your ass?"
"No why would I do that?" He lifts the two cards he has as he presses his hands innocently to his chest. "Besides, where would I put the other cards I dealt?"
"How the hell should I know," I say. "Maybe if your ass. — Jessica Sorensen

Easy, vampire." She pulled his hands away from his neck and held them against his chest. He was strong, though, and she had to plaster the weight of her body on his to ease his struggle and keep him from tearing at his own skin. "I know it hurts, but the ash is working." She hoped. God, she hoped. If she'd made things worse, she'd never forgive herself. Gradually, he stopped fighting, but he kept hold of her hands, even when she tried to extricate herself from his grip. Between her thighs, he was hot, his body so wide she figured she'd feel the tug of tightness in the morning. Dear God, what would sex with him be like, if just holding him still gave her muscle strains? And why in the world would her mind go there? — Larissa Ione

I feel the weight of his chest on top of me as he finally collapses; I close my eyes and try to bring myself back to earth. I might have been safer at Dave — Kyra Davis

What happened felt more like chemistry than a kiss. Pure liquid heat on my lips, dissolving into me, trailing a hot line down my chest and pooling in my stomach. My heels rose off the floor. All of me rose, unanchored, held down only by his weight pressing me to the chilly slab of the door. We kissed as we could not have done until now - like lovers. — Leah Raeder

He felt the stone hit his chest, hard and hot, before finding its way up to the surface again. He touched it, surprised by its weight. Marjorie splashed him suddenly, laughing loudly before swimming away, toward the shore. — Yaa Gyasi

But it's a whole lot easier to keep[secrets] when you've got someone else who knows breathing in the same room. Carrying them alone is like having a huge spiky weight digging into your shoulders and chest, a weight you can't shift even while you're sleeping. — Lilith Saintcrow

He would wake from sleep to miss the weight that never depress the bed next to him, remember in earnest the weight of gestures she never made, long for the un-weight of her un-arm slung over his too real chest, making his widower's remembrances that much more convincing and the pain that much more real. — Jonathan Safran Foer

I love you, you know. The thought had escaped before I had a chance to rein it in. Henri caught his breath in his throat; the sombre weight in his chest lifting away like a pressure valve had been removed. He couldn't reply, certainly not with the two gate guards standing right next to him, but I felt his face relax into a smile. — K.C. Finn

I can honestly say, after talking about my mom passing away, I got the biggest weight off of my chest. Comedy is my therapy. That's how I deal with my problems, my personal battles. I talk about it. I give it to my fans. When they laugh at it, it's a release, for lack of a better word. — Kevin Hart

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

So, you know when the limit's up on love?" he asked and I felt my chest depress as the profound weight of his question hit me. "No," I whispered. "Right. No. No one does. Not you. Not me. No one. — Kristen Ashley

She held out her hands in a curve around herself, to show how emotion distends you. It makes you feel full up, a big weight in your chest, and then you don't want your dinner. — Hilary Mantel

This person mourns the fact that she has ruined her one chance to be loved by everyone; as this person climbs into bed, the weight of this tragedy seems to bear down upon this person's chest. And it is a comforting weight, almost human in heft. This person sighs. This person's eyes begin to close, this person sleeps. — Miranda July

And of course there was the loss of women, some of whom he still woke up aching for. He'd study their remnants alone at night - slips of paper bearing old phone numbers. Photographs. A mitten. In bed he would stare at the ceiling, trying to seize on the exact feeling of a particular woman's head on his chest. It's weight, the smell of her hair. — Jonathan Goldstein

Pulling my hand away, he rose, slanting his head to kiss me deeply as he pushed me onto my back, with his weight draped over me. "I've never had anything that was my own," he said against my mouth. "Nothing that was ever for just me and no one else. I've never been anyone's first." He kissed me and then lifted his head. I stared into his eyes. "I've never been anyone's only."
That made my heart ache for him as I raised my hand, pressing my palm against his cheek. "You're my first," I whispered. "You're ... you're my only."
His lips parted. "You can't say that and not mean it."
I held his gaze as my chest swelled. "I mean it."
He smoothed his thumb over my lip. "I really am a lucky son of a bitch. — Jennifer L. Armentrout

Milla put her hands on his ribs, holding on as he braced his weight on one arm while with his other hand he guided his penis to her and in the same rough motion pushed deep inside.
He froze in place, his breath panting between his parted lips as they stared at each other. She couldn't move; the feel of him inside her was too sharp, almost painful in its intensity. Their gazes met in the mellow lamplight, and she was mesmerized by the tension in his face, the way his steely muscles were locked as if he didn't dare move. It built and built, that clawing need, and yet she remained poised on the razor's edge of something she knew she couldn't control. His chest suddenly heaved on a convulsive breath, and he moved in a long, deep stroke that took him all the way to the hilt. — Linda Howard

There was a hollow in her chest, but at the bottom of this emptiness a heavy weight pressed down and bruised her stomach, so that she felt sick. — Carson McCullers

The guy's light eyes sparkled as he gazed at her, the weight of his body pinning Kade to the floor. "Are you trying to get us both killed?" His voice came out low, deadly. "Or is this how you usually meet people?" Glancing toward Kade's chest, flush against his, he smirked. "Because I'm not going to lie...it's effective. — Laney McMann

Children are a burden to a mother, but not the way a heavy box is to a mule. Our children weight hard on my heart, and thinking about them growing up honest and healthy, or just living to grow up at all, makes a load in my chest that is bigger than the safe at the bank,and more valuable to me than all the gold inside it. — Nancy E. Turner

It was an instant weight lifted off my chest - both literally and figuratively. — Ariel Winter

You don't need an ocean to feel like you're drowning. You feel it, between your chest and your throat, the weight of it stretching you outside your self, like a dead fish on the shore. — Malak El Halabi

Halfway through, he realized that it couldn't really be Grace and that the words might not even be coming out of his mouth. She unnerved him with the candor of her unblinking gaze. "You don't have to look like that," he added. Must've said it this time. "Like what?" she said, her head turned a little to the side. "Like a man's fucked up outta his mind and in my bar? Go to hell." He'd reared back on his stool at that suggestion, trying to assemble his wits like pieces on a game board. A weight on his chest, in the dark and the light. He'd thought he was smarter. He'd thought she'd gotten mired in old ways of thinking. But it turned out new ways of thinking didn't help, either. Time for another drink, somewhere else. A kind of oblivion. Then regroup. — Jeff VanderMeer

Love is a hollow word which seems at home in song lyrics and greeting cards, until you fall in love and discover it's disconcerting power. Depression means nothing more than the blues, commercially packaged angst, a hole in the ground; until you find it's black weight settled inside your mother's chest, disrupting her breathing, leaching her days, and yours, of colour and the nights of rest. — Jerry Pinto

Thank you," he said. Luce felt her lips quiver and her eyes burn.
Before she knew what she was doing, she fell into Cam's
arms, felt his hands wrap around her back.
When his chin rested on the top of her head, she began to weep. He let her cry. Held her close. He whispered,
"You're so brave." Then Cam's arms shifted and his chest pulled lightly away. For a second, she felt cold and exposed, but then another chest, another pair of arms replaced Cam's. And she knew without opening her eyes
that it was Daniel. No other body in the universe fit hers so well.
"Mind if I cut in?" he asked softly.
"Daniel - " She clenched her fists and squeezed her arms around him, wanting to squeeze away the pain.
"Shhh." He held her like that for what might have been hours, rocking her slightly, cradling her in his wings until her tears had tapered off and the
weight in her heart had eased enough that she could breathe without sniffling. — Lauren Kate

I could not resist the temptation to ask: Tell me something, Damiana: what do you recall? I wasn't recalling anything, she said, but your question makes me remember. I felt a weight in my chest. I've never fallen in love, I told her. She replied without hesitation: I have. And she concluded, not interrupting her work: I cried over you for twenty-two years. My heart skipped a beat. Looking for a dignified way out, I said: We would have made a good team. Well, it's wrong of you to say so now, she said, because you're no good to me anymore even as a consolation. As she was leaving the house, she said in the most natural way: You won't believe me but thanks be to God, I'm still a virgin. — Gabriel Garcia Marquez

Larissa's father was Vlad Dracul? Vlad Tepes? Vlad the fucking Impaler?"
Tepes translated meant "the Impaler," something Connor clearly knew.
"Yeah."
Surprising him, Connor let out a loud laugh. "Man I bet her family just loved that she mated with a shifter."
A weight on Aiden's chest lifted at his Alpha's reaction. "You have no idea. — Katie Reus

Strange how a tiny hand could make the weight of his new responsibilities feel like a boulder on his chest. — Margaret Mallory

She still had her bad days, no question, when the black dog of depression sniffed her out and settled its crushing weight on her chest and breathed its pungent dog breath in her face. On those days she called in sick to the IT shop where, most days, she untangled tangled networks for a song. On those days she pulled down the shades and ran dark for twelve or twenty-four or seventy-two hours, however long it took for the black dog to go on home to its dark master. — Lev Grossman

But he came, when I was at my darkest. I prayed him down from the sky, and he came in a flash of blue fire that lit up the heavens. I know he came by his own choice, but he came because I called him. He came when I could no longer take the weight of the world on my own. He came when I needed him the most. He came and saved me from myself, saved me from the waters that rose up to my chest and over my head. — T.J. Klune

The whole world is pressing in on me, like a weight on my chest, slowly pushing me down and down. And there's nothing between me and this weight but my flimsy skin. It's not enough. It won't protect me. It doesn't keep anything out. The outside will keep pressing in until my ribs are crushed, and then my organs, my heart and liver and stomach ... — Natalie Standiford

They stood silently before each other for a moment, and she thought that the most beautiful words were those which were not needed. When he moved, she said: "Don't say anything about the trial. Afterward." When he took her in his arms, she turned her body to meet his straight on, to feel the width of his chest with the width of hers, the length of his legs with the length of hers, as if she were lying against him, and her feet felt no weight, and she was held upright by the pressure of his body. They lay in bed together that night, and they did not know when they slept, the intervals of exhausted unconsciousness as intense an act of union as the convulsed meetings of their bodies. — Ayn Rand

I'd still thought that everything I thought about that night-the shame, the fear-would fade in time. But that hadn't happened. Instead, the things that I remembered, these little details, seemed to grow stronger, to the point where I could feel their weight in my chest. Nothing, however stuck with me more than the memory of stepping into that dark room and what I found there, and how the light then took that nightmare and made it real. — Sarah Dessen

His father asked Ethan in a raspy voice, "You spend time with your son?" "Much as I can," he'd answered, but his father had caught the lie in his eyes. "It'll be your loss, Ethan. Day'll come, when he's grown and it's too late, that you'd give a kingdom to go back and spend a single hour with your son as a boy. To hold him. Read a book to him. Throw a ball with a person in whose eyes you can do no wrong. He doesn't see your failings yet. He looks at you with pure love and it won't last, so you revel in it while it's here." Ethan thinks often of that conversation, mostly when he's lying awake in bed at night and everyone else is asleep, and his life screaming past at the speed of light - the weight of bills and the future and his prior failings and all these moments he's missing - all the lost joy - perched like a boulder on his chest. — Blake Crouch

The forbidden cabinet. The forbidden fruit. That fruit is - a volume, a huge blue-lilac volume with a gold inscription slantwise: Collected Works of A.S. Pushkin. I read the fat Pushkin in the cabinet with my nose in the book and on the shelf, almost in darkness and almost right up against it and even a little bit suffocated by his weight that came right into the throat, and almost blinded by the nearness of the tiny letters. I read Pushkin right into the chest and right into the brain. — Marina Tsvetaeva

We were all too human then, the vast ocean surrounding us and the tiny island we inhabited. We were two small beating hearts in this world, yet what we sought now seemed enormous. What we wanted and what could be created between us, a spark of life, so small and fragile, was too overwhelming to fully comprehend. My heart beat heavily in my chest with the weight of what we were trying for. — Meredith Wild

She kicked, but there was little to be gained from that, burdened as she was with the heavy lump of sharp, hard love she held so tightly to her chest. Was it the answers that it held that gave it so much weight? — Patrick Rothfuss

I think we've met our quota for tearful reunions," she chuckled against the top of my head.
"When this is done, I promise I'm never going to leave the house ever again. We'll just stay in and order pizza and watch bad television."
Mom pulled away and looked over my shoulder. "Oh, I think you might want to get out every now and then," she said.
I felt the warm weight of Archer's hand on my waist. "Hey, I like pizza and bad TV."
I turned to him, surprised. "Your chest-"
"Cal," he said by way of explanation. "I owe that guy, like, a mountain of burgers. It's getting embarrassing."
Mom flashed me a little smile before saying, "You know, this isn't how I imagined meeting Sophie's first real boyfriend."
"Mom."
Archer gave me a little squeeze. "You mean I'm the first guy your parents have rescued from an enchanted island via use of a magic mirror? I feel so special. — Rachel Hawkins

He felt the shock of contact. The weight of her against his chest felt like something she had decided to entrust to him. He — Michael Chabon

With a boot on his chest, she used her free hand to search for the syringe he surely carried. Found it. Jabbed it into his thigh. Waited with the gun to his head until his eyes shut and his jaw went slack. Punched him just to be sure. The sedative would have been measured to heavily dose Neeva and her nearly half-weight to his, but at this point, what the fuck ever.
A group of pedestrians on the other side of the street had watched the entire scene. Munroe waved them on. "It's official business," she said, and whether they believed her or not, they moved on. Human nature was always more inclined to apathy, to avoiding
involvement, to seeing things as someone else's problem. People were easy like that. — Taylor Stevens

He broke the kiss. "Say my name, Martise." He snarled the command, but she wasn't afraid. His hips rocked against hers, and she was impaled on his cock, reveling in his fierce possession. For a few brief hours, he was as much hers as she was his, and she could tell him how much he meant to her in a softly spoken name. Every desire, every craving, every forbidden wish - she infused into her voice. "Silhara." He gasped, a tortured sound, and his eyes rolled back. Martise clutched him to her as he shuddered, felt the sudden pulse of his shaft, his release followed by a wet heat as he came inside her. He hunched over her, chest heaving as he strove to breathe. She clasped his hips with her legs to maintain their connection, reluctant to give him up. He slowly lowered his weight onto her, careful not to crush her. — Grace Draven

Rolling onto his side, Jamie reached out and touched Evan's chest, two fingertips only tracing the curve of his pectoral and threading through the dark, curly hair. Something about that hairiness fascinated him, masculine yet soft. An unaccountable shyness wrapped around him, a weight upon his shoulders. His fingers trembled a little. "You'll, um, tell me if I do it wrong?"
Evan laughed softly, "Angel, there is no wrong. Go ahead and explore. If I don't like something, I'll tell you, 'kay? — Finn Marlowe

He is fifteen and ten and five. He is an instant. He is flying back to her. He is hers again. She feels the weight of him in her chest as he comes into her arms. He is her son, her beloved child, and she takes him back. — Ann Patchett

Its more a trance, jonah said. the whole world is pressing in on me, like a weight on my chest, slowly pushing me down ans down. and there's nothing between me and this weight but my flimsy skin. Its not enough. It won't protect me. It doesn't keep anything out. The outside will keep pressing until my ribs are crushed. — Natalie Standiford

Being emotional is normal, all part of the job." Her words twirled around my mind. "These are precious new lives at their most fragile. You wouldn't be human if you didn't feel the weight on your heart."
Oh I felt the brick crushing my chest, the question was whether I was strong enough to lift it off and breathe myself.
"It's a balancing act between empathy, confidence, and trusting your skills. — Riley Mackenzie

How good it felt to be alone, stacking blocks. That's what came to him again, a kind of weight solidifying in his chest: how much he had loved to be alone - to be outside of his own life, a giant, sentient cloud looming over his imaginary city, hovering above it. There was a certain kind of blank omniscience that felt like his true self, at last. — Dan Chaon

It was inevitable: Yankel fell in love with his never-wife. He would wake from sleep to miss the weight that never depressed the bed next to him, remember in earnest the weight of gestures she never made, long for the un-weight of her un-arm slung over his too-real chest, making his widower's rememberences that much more convincing and his pain that much more real. — Jonathan Safran Foer

Don't be that way, Ric." She grabbed hold of Ric's T-shirt and pulled him over until his weight rested against her. She placed her hand against the back of his neck and lowered his head, placing it against her chest. Using her fingers, she eased around and found the swelling knot at the base of his skull and carefully placed the bag of ice there. "Doesn't that feel better?"
He grunted a little, his arms now wrapping around her waist, his face burrowing deep against her breast. After a moment, he settled and said, "Now it does."
Dee rolled her eyes in disgust. Honestly, wolves took any advantage they could get. At their core - they were all the same.
Horny, pathetic, and cute. — Shelly Laurenston

Jamie chose that moment to almost fall down the stairs. Mae took his whole weight and grabbed the banister. Seb reached out but Jamie shied away, and Nick gave Jamie a push in the chest that was clearly intended to right him, but that nearly had him toppling over backward. Balance eventually restored to them all, Jamie gave Nick an approving look. "You are my friend," he told him. "Yeah, I am," said Nick. "But these stairs," Jamie said sadly. "They are not my friends. — Sarah Rees Brennan

His words remind me of the strange whispers that have accompanied my illusions - something dark and vengeful, tempting and powerful. A weight presses on my chest. I am afraid. Intrigued. — Marie Lu

I clung to him while, overhead, the clouds burst forth a final brilliant streak of golden red, as if the gates of heaven themselves had briefly opened, and closed again. My trembling stilled; the wind seemed to fall silent, and some weight I didn't fully understand, a melancholy ages old, was lifted from my sobbing chest and drifted like an answered prayer into the darkness. — Susanna Kearsley

And my heart shifted a bit in my chest as I said to him with no guile whatsoever, "I won't tell anyone unless you say so." The weight of that jeweled knife and belt seemed to grow. "I wish I had been there to stop it. I should have been there to stop it." I meant every word. Lucien squeezed our linked arms as we rounded a hedge, the house rising up before us. "You are a better friend to me, Feyre," he said quietly, "than I ever was to you. — Sarah J. Maas

How much do you work out?"
"I don't," he said. "It's genetic." Which it was. Puberty had brought him many things unbidden, including height and weight and an extreme mesomorph physique, with a six-pack like a cobbled city street, and a chest like a suit of NFL armor, and biceps like basketballs, and subcutaneous fat like a Kleenex tissue. He had never messed with any of it. No diets. No weights. No gym time. If it ain't broke, don't fix it, was his attitude. — Lee Child

Miranda!"
"What?" She batted him with her pillow.
"Hoyden! Are you drunk?"
"I don't think so. I'm not sure. They never gave us wine at Yardley. I feel happy."
"Happy?" He grabbed a corner of the pillow as she whacked him again with it. "Stop it!"
"You're too serious, Winterley!" She reached for another pillow. "I will beat you until you smile!"
He ducked out of his chair with a rakish grin as she swung at him, then tackled her flat on the soft bed, both of them laughing.
"You are ... impossible," he chided with a gentle sigh as he braced his elbows on either side of her head. He traced her cheekbones with the pads of his thumbs.
"Difficult, but not impossible." She wrapped her arms around him, relishing the weight of him atop her, the smoothness of his bare chest against her bodice. "It all depends on who's trying."
"That sounded distinctly like an invitation," he murmured. — Gaelen Foley

Rushing outside, she carries long, sharp scissors and snips at flower petals while screaming, "Off with your head!" When I realize what she's really after, a strange discomfort stirs inside. I've seen how the petals tatter beneath the blades. I don't want her to ruin my moth's pretty wings. I throw my hands over the scissors to stop her. The moth escapes unscathed. But I'm not so lucky ...
Coming out of the trance, I drop to the ground and clutch aching palms to my chest. The scars throb as if freshly cut. Morpheus bows over me, smoothing my hair. "I told you that you were special, Alyssa," he murmurs, the weight of his palm strangely comforting on the top of my head. "No one else has ever bled for me. The loyalty of one child for another is immeasurable. You believed in me, shared new experiences with me, grew with me. That has earned you my sincerest devotion." — A.G. Howard

American whale oil lit the world. It was used in the production of soap, textiles, leather, paints, and varnishes, and it lubricated the tools and machines that drove the Industrial Revolution. The baleen cut from the mouths of whales shaped the course of feminine fashion by putting the hoop in hooped skirts and giving form to stomachtightening
and chest-crushing corsets. Spermaceti, the waxy substance from the heads of sperm whales, produced the brightest- and cleanest-burning candles the world has ever known, while ambergris, a byproduct of irritation in a sperm whale's bowel, gave perfumes great staying power and was worth its weight in gold. — Eric Jay Dolin