She Thirsty Quotes & Sayings

No person is more ruthlessly cheated than someone strip-mined of his or her ability to recall the vibrancy of the past. After all, what would any person be if robbed of all sense of long-term memory? Without memories, all that any person would know about life is if he or she was hungry or thirsty, cold or hot. Without memories of the past and shredded of any illusion of a future there cannot be a frame for our existence. Without a sense of memory, we lack cognition of the very essence of our being. In absence of our memories, there can be no introspection, no ethical awareness, and no devotion, loyalty, or love. — Kilroy J. Oldster

The sky was so heartless and dark, and her body, her head, and particularly those damned thirsty trousers, felt clogged with Oceanus Nox, n,o,x. At every slap and splash of cold wild salt, she heaved with anise-flavored nausea and there was an increasing number, okay, or numbness in her neck and arms. As she began losing track of herself, she thought it proper to inform a series of receding Lucettes
telling them to pass it on and on in a trick-crystal regression
that what death amounted to was only a more complete assortment of the infinite fractions of solitude. — Vladimir Nabokov

Lizzie, Lizzie, have you tasted

For my sake the fruit forbidden?

Must your light like mine be hidden,

Your young life like mine be wasted,

Undone in mine undoing,

And ruined in my ruin,

Thirsty, cankered, goblin-ridden?' -

She clung about her sister,

Kissed and kissed and kissed her:

Tears once again

Refreshed her shrunken eyes,

Dropping like rain

After long sultry drouth;

Shaking with aguish fear, and pain,

She kissed and kissed her with a hungry mouth.

Her lips began to scorch,

That juice was wormwood to her tongue,

She loathed the feast:

Writhing as one possessed she leaped and sung,

Rent all her robe, and wrung Her hands in lamentable haste... — Christina Rossetti

He has told us that He is the hungry one. He is the naked one. He is the thirsty one. He is the one without a home. He is the one who is suffering. These are our treasures, she said, looking at the rows of pallets in the caravanserai. They are Jesus. — Mother Teresa

'What you doing in the club on a Thursday?'
She say she only here for her girl birthday ...
They ordered champagne but still look thirsty,
Rock Forever 21 but just turned 30. — Kanye West

I'm like the trunk of a cactus, I suppose." she told him. "I take in a dose of culture and time with friends, then I retreat and go live on it for a while until I get thirsty again. — Nancy Horan

I thought she was sleeping until I heard her call out from across the room, "Will you bring me a glass of water?" I did. Then in her always-sleepy tone and drawl she said, "Do you remember when you were a little boy and you would ask your mama to bring you a glass of water?" Yeah. "You know how half the time you weren't even thirsty. You just wanted that hand that was attached to that glass that was attached to that person you just wanted to stay there until you fell asleep." She took the glass of water that I brought her and just sat it down full on the table next to her. Wow, I thought. What am I gonna do with love like this. — Dito Montiel

The ten-year-old shifter wore long flannel pajama pants and a T-shirt, his blond hair sticking up everywhere in the most adorable way. "No, I'm thirsty. I didn't mean to both you --"
"You're not bothering us," Teresa interjected. Ryan didn't seem to want to let her go, but she didn't care. She needed distance from this male if she wanted to think straight. "I just stopped by to ..." Her brain chose that moment to malfunction. She couldn't even think of a decent lie.
"To kiss Ryan?" the boy asked, all innocence. — Katie Reus

Are you thirsty?" she asked.
"Like a camel," Henry said.
She led him to a chair by the window. Then she went to the kitchen, wishing she had something better than water to serve. She filled a glass.
"Are you hungry?" Food, she had.
"Like a camel that hasn't eaten anything in days."
"Ham or casserole?"
"No self-respecting camel eats casserole. It could contain a relative. — Martha Brockenbrough

We began our hospital visits: one day Susan, one day me, everyday The Big Hoom. On one of these visits, she told me about the tap that opened at my birth and the lack drip filling her up, and it tore a hole in my heart. If this was what she could manage with a single sentence, what did thirsty years of marriage do to The Big Hoom? — Jerry Pinto

Becca wanted to say something to get through to her, but she knew it was useless. Only God could do the wooing. All she could do was try to live in such a way as to make others thirsty for the Living Water. — Colleen Rhoads

[She was] a creature full of eager, passionate longings for all that was beautiful and glad; thirsty for all knowledge; with an ear straining after dreamy music that died away and would not come near to her; with a blind unconscious yearning for something that would link together the wonderful impressions of this mysterious life, and give her soul a sense of home in it. — George Eliot

She seated herself on a dark ottoman with the brown books behind her, looking in her plain dress of some thin woollen-white material, without a single ornament on her besides her wedding-ring, as if she were under a vow to be different from all other women; and Will sat down opposite her at two yards' distance, the light falling on his bright curls and delicate but rather petulant profile, with its defiant curves of lip and chin. Each looked at the other as if they had been two flowers which had opened then and there. Dorothea for the moment forgot her husband's mysterious irritation against Will: it seemed fresh water at her thirsty lips to speak without fear to the one person whom she had found receptive; for in looking backward through sadness she exaggerated a past solace. — George Eliot

She paused, and said, "May I ask you a question?" He said, "Sure." "Are we having dinner?" "That's what it said on the menu. Lunch was different, and this sure ain't breakfast." "No, I mean having dinner, as opposed to grabbing road food." "As in candlelight and piano music?" "Not necessarily." "Violin players and guys selling roses?" "If appropriate." "Like a date?" She said, "Broadly, I suppose." He said, "Honest answer?" "Always." "Suppose we had found Keever yesterday, maybe stepping off the train, or fallen over in a wheat field somewhere, with a sprained ankle, somewhat hungry and thirsty but otherwise OK, then yes, for sure I would have asked you out to dinner, and if you had accepted, then we'd be having that dinner right about now, so I guess this half-qualifies. — Lee Child

The problem was that Leo had a consuming desire to be everything to Catherine. He wanted to be her exclusive confidant, her lover and closest friend, to tend to her most intimate needs. To warm her with his body when she was cold, hold a cup to her lips when she was thirsty, rub her feet when she was tired. To join his life with hers in every significant and mundane way. — Lisa Kleypas

She came at him sideways, away from his legs, reaching down to pull the duct tape away. He didn't even notice the pain, spitting out the rag someone had put in his mouth earlier. She turned, and handed him a bottle of water. "You're probably thirsty. The drug I gave you tends to make your mouth dry."
"No, I think that was caused by the sock someone stuffed in there," he said. "Your work? — Anne Stuart

This was nonsense, he thought. The need of her was a physical thing, like the thirsty of a sailor becalmed for weeks on the sea. He'd felt the need before, often, often, in their years apart. But why now? She was safe; he knew where she was - was it only the exhaustion of the past weeks and days, or perhaps the weakness of creeping age that made his bones ache, as though she had in fact been torn from his body, as God had made Eve from Adam's rib? — Diana Gabaldon

Lynnette and me were wondering that, if it's alright with ya, since it's Thursday night, ya know, 'thirsty Thursday,' and we're kinda invited to this party, well we thought that maybe ya could close the library without us tonight, eh?" Autumn asks, standing in front of the circulation desk where I sit with a worn copy of poetry. She can't help playing with her long brown hair, nervously pulling strands from the back while straightening it out. At the same time, she is casting glances at Lynette who is watching us from the racks of current journals. I don't glance up at Autumn because I don't need — Amy A. Bartol

While He [the Lord Jesus] was sitting alone by the well, 'There cometh a woman of Samaria to draw water' (John 4:7). As man, the Lord was thirsty, and saw that someone who was naturally thirsty was coming to quench her thirst. As God, however, He also saw that her heart was athirst for the water of salvation, although she did not know Him Who could give it to her. So He hastened to reveal Himself to her longing soul for, as it is written, He Himself longs for those who long for Him (cf. Ps. 9:10; Prov. 7:15). — Gregory Palamas

She felt like a dry branch, sticking out of the air. Brittle, covered in old bark. Maybe she was thirsty, but there was no water nearby. And above all the suffocating certainty that if a man were to embrace her at that moment she would feel not a soft sweetness in her nerves, but lime juice stinging them, her body like wood near fire, warped, crackling, dry. — Clarice Lispector

So I'm explaining intrinsic value to my 4 year old daughter - who loves toy cats - and ask her, if she was really thirsty in the desert, whether she would like a bottle of water, or a toy cat, and she tells me that she would like a bottle of water in the shape of a toy cat.
Unarguable. — Stefan Molyneux

In a small town in southern England, another convoy of American tanks and trucks came to a brief stop in front of a row of houses, watched by a crowd of townspeople. Suddenly, a woman emerged from a house carrying bowls of strawberries and cream. She handed one to a young lieutenant named Bob Sheehan, kissed his forehead, and whispered, "Good luck. Come back safe." Galvanized by her gesture of kindness, other townspeople disappeared into their houses and moments later brought out tea and lemonade for the hot, thirsty GIs. — Lynne Olson

She wanted him. Not in the sweet way of poetry, though there was that music in the symmetry of his body, in the careful meshing of bone and sinew and flesh that made him.
Her want was raw. Physical. She felt it in the palms of her hands and the flesh of her lips and the heaviness of her breasts.
In her life, she'd been hungry, and thirsty. She'd needed sleep. She had never, in her life, needed to touch a man. — Barbara Samuel

That's right," she said. "DIE, you little monster plants. May your roots always be thirsty and your seeds all meet a fiery death until you're extinct forever! I HATE you! — Tui T. Sutherland

I was an infant when my mother went To see an atheist burned. She took me there. The dark-robed priests were met around the pile; The multitude was gazing silently; And as the culprit passed with dauntless mien, Tempered disdain in his unaltering eye, Mixed with a quiet smile, shone calmly forth; The thirsty fire crept round his manly limbs; His resolute eyes were scorched to blindness soon; His death-pang rent my heart! the insensate mob Uttered a cry of triumph, and I wept. Weep not, child! cried my mother, for that man Has said, 'There is no God.' — Percy Bysshe Shelley

Everyone in yuppie-land - airports, for example - looks like a nursing baby these days, inseparable from their plastic bottles of water. Here, however, I sweat without replacement or pause, not in individual drops but in continuous sheets of fluid soaking through my polo shirt, pouring down the backs of my legs ... Working my way through the living room(s), I wonder if Mrs. W. will ever have occasion to realize that every single doodad and objet through which she expresses her unique, individual self is, from another vantage point, only an obstacle between some thirsty person and a glass of water. — Barbara Ehrenreich

In the middle of the night, when Laila woke up thirsty, she found their hands still clamped together, in the white-knuckle, anxious way of children clutching balloon strings. — Khaled Hosseini

Your presence resembles a dirty martini,
she only drinks it when she's thirsty. — Shannon Lynette

Of course not," she snapped. "I'm only thirsty. Would you play the gallant and find me a glass of lemonade?"
"I assume 'lemonade' is code for wine? — Victoria Dahl

Emma convinced herself she'd lost him because she was fast. She was also adept at convincing herself of things that might not be - good at pretending. She could pretend she took classes at night by choice, and that blushing didn't make her thirsty
A vicious growl sounded. Her eyes widened, but she didn't turn back, just sprinted across the field. She felt claws sink into her anckle a second before she was dragged to the muddy ground and thrown onto her back. A hand covered her mouth, though she'd been trained not to scream.
"Never run from one such as me." Her attacker didn't sound human. "You will no' get away. And we like it." His voice was guttural like a beast's, breaking, yet his accent was ... Scottish? — Kresley Cole

The priest rose to take up the crucifix; at that, she strained her neck forward like someone who is thirsty, and, pressing her lips to the body of the Man-God, she laid upon it with all her expiring strength the most passionate kiss of love she had ever given. Then he recited the Miserateur and the Indulgentiam, dipped his right thumb in the oil, and began he unctions: first on the eyes, which had so coveted all earthly splendors; then on the nostrils, greedy for mild breezes and the smells of love; then on the mouth, which had opened to utter lies, which had moaned with pride and cried out in lust; then on the hands, which had delighted in the touch of smooth material; and lastly on the soles of the feet, once so quick when she hastened to satiate her desires and which now would never walk again. — Vladimir Nabokov

It was like Mama was lost in the desert and had gotten so thirsty that she was willing to see anything that might make her feel better about being lost. — Wiley Cash

Charlotte Stokehurst," Violet Bridgerton announced, "is getting married."
"Today?" Hyacinth queried, taking off her gloves.
Her mother gave her a look. "She has become engaged. Her mother told me this morning."
Hyacinth looked around. "Were you waiting for me in the hall?"
"To the Earl of Renton," Violet added. "Renton."
"Have we any tea?" Hyacinth asked. "I walked all the way home, and I'm thirsty."
"Renton!" Violet exclaimed, looking about ready to throw up her hands in despair. "Did you hear me?"
"Renton," Hyacinth said obligingly. "He has fat ankles."
"He's - " Violet stopped short. "Why were you looking at his ankles? — Julia Quinn

They were thirsty; this Guillaume brought them water. It was from this well that he drew it. Many drank there their last draught. This well where drank so many of the dead was destined to die itself. After the engagement, they were in haste to bury the dead bodies. Death has a fashion of harassing victory, and she causes the pest to follow glory. The typhus is a concomitant of triumph. This well was deep, and it was turned into a sepulchre. Three hundred dead bodies were cast into it. With too much haste perhaps. Were they all dead? Legend says they were not. It seems that on the night succeeding the interment, feeble voices were heard calling from the well. This well is isolated in the middle — Victor Hugo

There are souls innumerable in the world, as dry as the Sahara desert - souls which, when they look most gay and summer-like, are only flaunting the flowers gathered from other people's gardens, stuck without roots into their own unproducing soil. Oh, the dreariness, the sandy sadness of such poor arid souls! They are hungry, and eat husks; they are thirsty, and drink hot wine; their sleep is a stupor, and their life, if not an unrest, then a yielded decay. Only when praised or admired do they feel as if they lived! But Joan was not yet of such. She had had too much discomfort to have entered yet into their number. There was water not yet far from the surface of her consciousness. — George MacDonald

she saw all those who were in the pickup truck with her husband. Their clothes were torn. Their hands and faces were covered in blood and dust. They looked as shell-shocked as they felt. What's more, they were hungry and thirsty and exhausted and grieving their families and friends and the town they had left behind. "I heard, on the wireless," Claire said without missing a beat. "It's all anyone is talking about. Thank God you're okay. Come in. All of you, please come in. We will get you something to eat and give you a place to sleep and a hot bath. Come in; don't be shy. You're with friends here. — Joel C. Rosenberg

And besides, we're not really all that different. Although I think I'm a little more ... "
"What?"
"Optimistic." She nudged him with her shoulder. "You're Eeyore."
He blinked. "You think I'm Eeyore?"
"You tell me. I take my empty glass and try to fill it up with what happiness I can find. Friends, family, my work ... And then there's you."
He raised a brow. "Me."
She nudged him again, looking playful and damn sexy while she was at it. It was the short shorts with the boots, he decided. Or everything. It was everything.
"You take that empty glass," she said, happily analyzing him. "And you wonder what the heck to do with it. You don't need the glass, you don't have time for the glass. Hell, you'll just drink from a spigot if you get thirsty. And in any case, there's probably another one up the road if that one runs out, so - — Jill Shalvis

Lily opened her hand and looked at her three willstones. Rowan had been right. She was changed forever.
Lily sat up and saw a glass of water on the bedside table. A tiny card was propped up against it. It said, THIRSTY? in bold uppercase letters. Lily realized that she'd never seen Rowan's handwriting before. She stared at it, sipping her water, memorizing every swoop and curve.
She swung her legs out of bed and noticed that she'd somehow struggled out of his robe while she slept. Rowan had left a stack of clothes on the floor next to her, with its own accompanying card that read NAKED? Lily laughed quietly to herself ... — Josephine Angelini

I hated the mountains and the hills, the rivers and the rain. I hated the sunsets of whatever colour, I hated its beauty and its magic and the secret I would never know. I hated its indifference and the cruelty which was part of its loveliness. Above all I hated her. For she belonged to the magic and the loveliness. She had left me thirsty and all my life would be thirst and longing for what I had lost before I found it. — Jean Rhys

Mr. Albert? Mr. Albert?" Harley said.
"Just Albert's fine," Albert said tersely.
"Me and Janice are thirsty."
"I'm sorry, but I don't have any water on me." He managed a tight smile and moved on. But now Janice was crying and Harley was pleading.
"We used to live with Mary and she gave us water. But now we have to live with Summer and BeeBee and they said we have to have money."
"Then I guess you'd better earn some money," Albert said. He tried to soften it, tried not to sound harsh, but he had a lot on his mind and it came out sounding mean. Now Harley started to cry, too.
"If you're thirsty, stop crying," Albert snapped. "What do you think tears are made of? — Michael Grant

That she was thirsty for heavenly things, there could be no doubt. — Laura Frantz

Mrs. Margaret sigh heavy. Then she standing up, and starting make her own tea. She drink it in very thirsty way, like angry camel in the desert. — Xiaolu Guo

I'm a vampire," he said. "I'm never going to be anything else. You need to decide if you're okay with that, Eve. I am." "What if I'm not?" Her voice sounded really small and wounded. "What if I just want you to be Michael, not - not Vampire Michael of the Clan, or whatever?" "I can't," he said. "Because I'm not just Michael anymore. I haven't been since before you moved in. You just didn't know it." He let go of her hands, uncapped the sports bottle, and drank the blood down in long, thirsty gulps, making sure she was watching. His eyes turned ruby red, and he licked the drops from his lips. He put the empty bottle down, watching her. — Rachel Caine

Worship gatherings are not always spectacular, but they are always supernatural. And if a church looks for or works for the spectacular, she may miss the supernatural. If a person enters a gathering to be wowed with something impressive, with a style that fits him just right, with an order of service and song selection designed just the right way, that person may miss the supernatural presence of God. Worship is supernatural whenever people come hungry to respond, react, and receive from God for who He is and what He has done. A church worshipping as a Creature of the Word doesn't show up to perform or be entertained; she comes desperate and needy, thirsty for grace, receiving from the Lord and the body of Christ, and then gratefully receiving what she needs as she offers her praise-the only proper response to the God who saves us. — Matt Chandler

I fell in love the moment I saw her in her grandfather's kitchen, her dark curls crashing over her Portuguese shoulders. 'Would you like to drink coffee?' she smiled.
'I'm really not that thirsty.'
'What? What you say?' Her English wasn't too good. Now I'm seventy-three and she's just turned seventy. 'Would you like to drink coffee?' she asked me today, smiling.
'I'm really not that thirsty.'
'What? What you say?' Neither of us has the gift of language acquisition. After fifty years of marriage we have never really spoken, but we love each other more than words can say. — Dan Rhodes

Is this seat taken?"
The deep, gravelly voice jolted Noelle from her blood-thirsty thoughts. When she laid eyes on the man it belonged to her breath caught in her throat.
She blinked, wondering if maybe she'd dreamed him, but then he flashed her a captivating grin and she realized that he must be real - her mind wasn't capable of conjuring up a smile this heart-stoppingly gorgeous.
A pair of vivid blue eyes watched her expectantly as she searched for her voice.
"There are lots of other seats available," she finally replied, gesturing to the deserted tables all around them.
He shrugged. "I don't want to sit anywhere but here."
She moistened her suddenly dry lips. "Why?"
"Because none of those other seats are across from you," he said simply. — Elle Kennedy