Sighs Quotes & Sayings

Is there a place, save one the poet sees, A land of love, of liberty, and ease; Where labour wearies not, nor cares suppress Th' eternal flow of rustic happiness; Where no proud mansion frowns in awful state, Or keeps the sunshine from the cottage-gate; Where young and old, intent on pleasure, throng, And half man's life is holiday and song? Vain search for scenes like these! no view appears, By sighs unruffled or unstain'd by tears; Since vice the world subdued and waters drown'd, Auburn and Eden can no more be found. — George Crabbe

What a strange machine man is! You fill him with bread, wine, fish, and radishes, and out comes sighs, laughter, and dreams. — Nikos Kazantzakis

It isn't just the way she feels, or smells, or tastes; it's the way she sighs into my mouth, like: finally. Like: you found me. Like: this is everything I dreamed it would be.

How do you ever stop kissing a girl like that?

Maybe it's just that simple, you idiot, I think as our tongues sweep over each other in lazy, relaxing rhythm, low tide on a calm day. You don't. — Dahlia Adler

In two of your poems you called that central
Passage of womanhood a wound,
Instead of a curtain guarding a silken
Trail of sighs. How many men,
Upon regarding such beauty, helplessly
Touching it, recklessly needing
To enter its warmth again and again,
Have assumed it embodies their own ache
Of absence, the personal
Gash that has punished their lives.
So endowed of anatomy, any woman
Who has been loved
Knows that her tenderest blush
Of tissue is a luxe burden of have.
Although it bleeds, this is only to cleanse,
To prepare yet another nesting for love.
It is not a wound, friend.
It is a home for you.
It is a way into the world. — Michele Wolf

I value the lover's
sighs of happiness and I despise the hypocrite
mumbling his prayers. — Omar Khayyam

Sighs united together are almost prayers; prayers coming from two hearts are almost acts of grace. — Alexandre Dumas

He had only to touch me to turn my tears into sighs and my anger to desire. How accomodating love is; it forgives everything. — Isabel Allende

My faultless breast the furnace is, the fuel wounding thorns;Love is the fire and sighs the smoke, the ashes shame and scorns;The fuel Justice layeth on, and Mercy blows the coals;The metal in this furnace wrought are men's defiled souls. — Robert Southwell

For I have hedged me with a thorny hedge,
I live alone, I look to die alone:
Yet sometimes, when a wind sighs through the sedge,
Ghosts of my buried years, and friends come back,
My heart goes sighing after swallows flown
On sometime summer's unreturning track. — Christina Rossetti

Lost money is bewailed with deeper sighs Than friends, or kindred, and with louder cries. — Juvenal

When the lad for longing sighs,
Mute and dull of cheer and pale,
If at death's own door he lies,
Maiden, you can heal his ail.
Lovers' ills are all to buy:
The wan look, the hollow tone,
The hung head, the sunken eye,
You can have them for your own.
Buy them, buy them: eve and morn
Lovers' ills are all to sell.
Then you can lie down forlorn;
But the lover will be well. — A.E. Housman

But that day it was raining, and since they couldn't very well sit on the rooftop in the rain to watch the flotilla parade, they stayed in the little room that led to the roof. It had just one tiny window through which the gray light of day filtered in. They sat on the floor, and Lorenzo's senses were aroused by the sound of the rain falling outside, the musky smell of his own body, and the fragrant scent of Caterina's hair. A single blonde strand wound down her slim neck.

They kissed, taking off their rain-washed summer clothes so that their bodies pressed, naked, against one another. Long, delicate lovemaking. Caresses, kisses, shivers, and sighs of delight.

Lorenzo would have gladly spend the rest of his life preserved in that single moment, as if in amber, abandoning reality to live in the memory of that one single day. — Riccardo Bruni

She's contemplative; I can feel the air around her thick with her thoughts. "No," she says at last, "I want to believe you're being sincere but I know you're not. So I say no, because even if I allow myself to fantasize a little about our lives in a cabin on the beach, I still find myself being left by you. There's almost no scenario I can think of where we live happily ever after."
"There could be," I tell her and mean it at the moment. Maybe mean it for longer. Her fingers stop moving and she sighs. I open my eyes and she's staring down at me. The lights have come on around the parking lot and one of them shines directly into her face. She angelic, a neon seraphim under the brilliant skies of the spring. I can see us on our boat, eating our hand picked clams on the fire behind our place. I can see it so vividly I'm almost sure it's happened. — Jaden Wilkes

Men,' Gabby sighs. 'Spend all their time trying to turn you into their mothers, wanting clothes ironed, meals cooked, but then they despise you because you remind them of their mothers. — Ellie Campbell

I take a faltering step towards him, my blood pounding, my veins charged with pent-up energy begging me to run. I lace my hands around his neck and place my ear over his chest, listening to his heart. I trust him, he just needs to calm down. He's stiff at first. He sighs and his whole body deflates, melting against mine. The steady thuds in my ears slow down and he hugs me back, his mouth leaving a trail of sweet kisses on my head as his fingers softly scratch my scalp. — Tammy Faith

Solara: You know, you say you've been walking for thirty years, right?
Eli: Right?
Solara: Have you ever thought that maybe you were lost?
Eli: Nope.
Solara: Well, how do you know that you're walking in the right direction?
Eli: I walk by faith, not by sight.
Solara: [sighs] What does that mean?
Eli: It means that you know something even if you don't know something.
Solara: That doesn't make any sense.
Eli: It doesn't have to make sense. It's faith, it's faith. It's the flower of light in the field of darkness that's giving me the strength to carry on. You understand?
Solara: Is that from your book?
Eli: No, it's, uh, Johnny Cash, Live at Folsom Prison. — Book Of Eli Movie

His words! Damn him and his words! They make me forget that I care about anything. — M. Leighton

Romantic haste in drama brings
tears and sighs when the hero dies
but the curtain fall is final
when in life we take the tragic way
The sunset too is a glorious thing
but with it ends the day. — C. P. Klapper

I cross my arms. "It was a two minute conversation." "I don't think a smaller time frame makes it less unwise." He furrows his eyebrows and touches the corner of my bruised eye with his fingertips. My head jerks back, but he doesn't take his hand away. Instead he sighs. "You know, if you could just learn to attack first, you might do better." "Attack first?" I say. "How will that help?" "You're fast. If you can get a few good hits in before they know what's going on, you could win." He shrugs, and his hand falls. — Veronica Roth

Under the Sun of the night. The Sun in winter is addictive. And at night like it is. To be in the forest and wait for a rain of sighs. — Gwen Calvo

Feste. Are you ready, sir?

Orsino. Ay; prithee, sing.
[Music] 945
SONG.

Feste. Come away, come away, death,
And in sad cypress let me be laid;
Fly away, fly away breath;
I am slain by a fair cruel maid. 950
My shroud of white, stuck all with yew,
O, prepare it!
My part of death, no one so true
Did share it.
Not a flower, not a flower sweet 955
On my black coffin let there be strown;
Not a friend, not a friend greet
My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown:
A thousand thousand sighs to save,
Lay me, O, where 960
Sad true lover never find my grave,
To weep there!
Orsino. There's for thy pains.
Feste. No pains, sir: I take pleasure in singing, sir.

Orsino. I'll pay thy pleasure then. 965

Feste. Truly, sir, and pleasure will be paid, one time or another.

From Twelfth Night, Act II, Scene 4. — William Shakespeare

Because I want you to be happy. With or without me, whatever it takes." Theo sighs. "That's the difference between wanting someone and loving them. — Claudia Gray

You and I, Mia. We have needs that must be attended. I will look after yours, and you will look after mine." He sighs, and his fingers move to his suit jacket and deftly undoes the buttons, letting it fall open to reveal a smart black shirt and tie underneath. "I've waited for this moment for so long. — Claire C. Riley

If I go away What would still remain of me? The ghost within your eyes? The whisper in your sighs? You see ... Believe And I'm always there. — Jon Oliva

Is it cool if I invite Morris and Daisy to the game tomorrow?" She eases her panties up her smooth, bare legs, and I'm so distracted by the sight that I forget what she asked a nanosecond after she asks it.



My cock hardens beneath the sheets, tenting up as if trying to get Grace's attention. She sighs when she notices the campsite on the bed. — Elle Kennedy

Today? - "I don't know either the way out or the way in; I am whatever doesn't know either the way out or the way in" - so sighs the man of today ... This is the sort of modernity that made us ill, - we sickened on lazy peace, cowardly compro mise, the whole virtuous dirtiness of the modern Yea and Nay. This tolerance and largeur of the heart that "forgives" everything because it "understands" everything is a sirocco to us. Rather live amid the ice than among modern virtues and other — Friedrich Nietzsche

He is looking down on the two crystal balls that the old man's foul, strong hands have rolled across to him. In one he sees Margaret, not in her raincoat and her nodding plumes, but as she is transfigured in the light of eternity. Long he looks there; then drops a glance to the other, just long enough to see that in its depths Kitty and I walk in bright dresses through our glowing gardens. We had suffered no transfiguration, for we are as we are, and there is nothing more to us. The whole truth about us lies in our material seeming. He sighs a deep sigh of delight and puts out his hand to the ball where Margaret shines. His sleeve catches the other one and sends it down to crash in a thousand pieces on the floor. The old man's smile continues to be lewd and benevolent; he is still not more interested in me than in the bare-armed woman. Chris is wholly inclosed in his intentness on his chosen crystal. No one weeps for this shattering of our world. — Rebecca West

I remember the odd sensation of living in the middle of that experience and feeling, simultaneously, like it was something happening at telescopic distance. Like something I was looking at through the wrong end of a pair of binoculars. — Wally Lamb

A partner who rolls her eyes, sighs, turns away, sends a very toxic message. — Steve Biddulph

To him she seemed so beautiful, so seductive, so different from ordinary people, that he could not understand why no one was as disturbed as he by the clicking of her heels on the paving stones, why no one else's heart was wild with the breeze stirred by the sighs of her veils, why everyone did not go mad with the movements of her braid, the flight of her hands, the gold of her laughter. He had not missed a single one of her gestures, not one of the indications of her character, but he did not dare approach her for fear of destroying the spell. — Gabriel Garcia Marquez

The night is about to lull everything and everyone to sleep. I stretch myself at the window and open it so that the books can breathe fresh damp air. I suspect that books need to breathe like people, and I think they tolerate damp better than people say. There is no doubt that they stare rather sadly at the trees out in the garden, as if they have a vague recollection of relationship with them, and sighs are borne from the pages to the damp trunks and branches.
I begin to sigh too, for I feel that people are like trees that move, trees that have lost their roots and are always in search of the soil. I have a hazy idea that humans have come from trees that broke off from their roots in a wild whirlwind eons ago - that is my thory of evolution. — Gyrdir Eliasson

What madness, to love a man as something more than human! I lived in a fever, convulsed with tears and sighs that allowed me neither rest nor peace of mind. My soul was a burden, bruised and bleeding. It was tired of the man who carried it, but I found no place to set it down to rest. Neither the charm of the countryside nor the sweet scents of a garden could soothe it. It found no peace in song or laughter, none in the company of friends at table or in the pleasures of love, none even in books or poetry. Everything that was not what my friend had been was dull and distasteful. I had heart only for sighs and tears, for in them alone I found some shred of consolation. — Augustine Of Hippo

His tender tone turned her heart over. She obliged, tilting her head back slightly and looking up at him in the firelit darkness. When he bent his head and his mouth met hers, she gave a little sigh, her lips parting slightly in surprise and expectation. He kissed her with the same sure decisiveness with which he did everything else, his mouth trailing to her cheek and chin and ear, returning again and again to her mouth and lingering there, his breath mingling with her own.
She felt adrift in small, sharp bursts of pleasure. Was this how a man was suppose to kiss a woman? Tenderly ... firmly ... repeatedly? His fingers fanned through her hair till the pins gave way and wayward locks spilled like black ribbon to the small of her back. In answer, her arms circled his neck, bringing him nearer, every kiss sweeter and surer than the one before. Soon they were lost in a haze of sighs and murmurs and caresses. — Laura Frantz

Egypt loved the lotus becuase it never dies. It is the same for people who are loved. Thus can something as insignificant as a name-two syllables, one high, one sweet- summon up the innumerable smiles, tears, sighs and dreams of a human life. — Anita Diamant

I dreamed that I stood in a valley, and amid sighs,
For happy lovers passed two by two where I stood;
And I dreamed my lost love came stealthily out of the wood
With her cloud-pale eyelids falling on dream-dimmed eyes ... — William Butler Yeats

I look forward, not to what lies ahead of me in this life and will surely pass away, but to my eternal goal. I am intent upon this one purpose, not distracted by other aims, and with this goal in view I press on, eager for the prize, God's heavenly summons. Then I shall listen to the sound of Your praises and gaze at Your beauty ever present, never future, never past. But now my years are but sighs. You, O Lord, are my only solace. You, my Father, are eternal. But I am divided between time gone by and time to come, and its course is a mystery to me. My thoughts, the intimate life of my soul, are torn this way and that in the havoc of change. And so it will be until I am purified and melted by the fire of Your love and fused into one with You. — Augustine Of Hippo

What do you do?' she asks, holding out the vest.
'What do you do?'
'What do you do?' she asks, her voice shaking. 'Don't ask me, please. Okay, Clay?'
'Why not?'
She sits on the mattress after I get up. Muriel screams.
'Because ... I don't know,' she sighs.
I look at her and don't feel anything and walk out with my vest. — Bret Easton Ellis

I have never said this to anyone before." Leo's voice was like ragged velvet. "But the idea of you with child is the most insanely arousing thing I've ever imagined. Your belly all swollen, your breasts heavy, the funny little way you would walk ... I would worship you. I would take care of your every need. And everyone would know that I'd made you that way, that you belonged to me. — Lisa Kleypas

Sometimes,
I doubt the courage
My bones are made of

And then,
A breath finds her way in
And her way out

The half-way-almost-full moon
Smiles down;

My heart sighs
And quietly whispers:
I remember. — Bryonie Wise

True holiness, we surely ought to remember, does not consist merely of inward sensations and impressions. It is much more than tears, and sighs, and bodily excitement, and a quickened pulse, and a passionate feeling of attachment to our own favourite preachers and our own religious party, and a readiness to quarrel with everyone who does not agree with us. It is something of "the image of Christ," which can be seen and observed by others in our private life, and habits, and character, and doings. — J.C. Ryle

Wingate sighs thoughtfully. "Hard to say. He's not static. He began with almost pure Impressionism, which is dead. Anyone can do it. But the vision was there. Between the fifth and twelfth paintings, he began to evolve something much more fascinating. Are you familiar with the Nabis?"
The what?"
Nabis. It means 'prophets.' Bonnard, Denis, Vuillard?"
What I know about art wouldn't fill a postcard."
Don't blame yourself. That's the American educational system. They simply don't teach it. Not unless you beg for it. Not even in university. — Greg Iles

There's the feather-bed element here, brother, - ach! and not only that! There's an attraction here - here you have the end of the world, an anchorage, a quiet haven, the navel of the earth, the three fishes that are the foundation of the world, the essence of pancakes, of savoury fish-pies, of the evening samovar, of soft sighs and warm shawls, and hot stoves to sleep on - as snug as though you were dead, and yet you're alive - the advantages of both at once! — Fyodor Dostoyevsky

If I can bring Him nothing but my tears, He will put them with His own tears in His own bottle for He once wept; if I can bring Christ nothing but my groans and sighs, He will accept these as an acceptable sacrifice, for He once was broken in heart, and sighed heavily in spirit. — Charles Haddon Spurgeon

You don't love me," I say.
He sighs ruefully. "Maybe not. I can't help seeing you the way a starving man sees bread. — Rosamund Hodge

Well at least your awake," he sighs
"You had me worried."
"Get your hands away from me."
He waves sheathed fingers in front of my face.
"I'm all covered up. Don't worry."
"I hate you."
"So much passion." He laughs again. He looks so calm, so genuinely amused. He stares at me with eyes softer than I ever expected them to be.
I turn away. — Tahereh Mafi

Love is a smoke rais'd with the fume of sighs; being purg'd, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes; being vex'd, a sea nourish'd with lovers' tears; what is it else? A madness most discreet, a choking gall, and a preserving sweet. — William Shakespeare

I want to hear you say it, I say, pushing her hair from her eyes. She sighs and I can't hold back any longer. I stroke her cheek with my hand and lean in to kiss her soft lips. I half expect her to push me back, but I can't stop myself right now. I have to do it. I have to kiss her. I need to kiss her. — Melissa Brown

Our sins are debts that none can pay but Christ. It is not our tears, but His blood; it is not our sighs, but His sufferings, that can testify for our sins. Christ must pay all, or we are prisoners forever. — Thomas Brooks

There is no happiness for him who oppresses and persecutes; no, there can be no repose for him. For the sighs of the unfortunate cry for vengeance to heaven. — Johann Heinrich Pestalozzi

The inward sighs of humble penitence
Rise to the ear of Heaven, when peal'd hymns
Are scatter'd with the sounds of common air. — Joanna Baillie

Half the night I waste in sighs, Half in dreams I sorrow after The delight of early skies; In a wakeful dose I sorrow For the hand, the lips, the eyes, For the meeting of the morrow, The delight of happy laughter, The delight of low replies. — Alfred Lord Tennyson

Carmel's a very pretty girl," she says hopefully. "Thomas seems to think so." She sighs, then smiles. "Good. He could use a woman's touch."
"Mom," I groan. "Gross." "Not that kind of touch," she laughs. — Kendare Blake

He sighs. "If it's any consolation, I'm not overly thrilled about being away from my wife for so long, either."
"She a cougar?" Cora asks.
Karl stares at her, mouth open.
"I'm just saying," she says defensively. "He looks like the sort to snag a cougar."
She did not just say that. "Cora!"
"My wife is off limits to you." He shakes a finger at her. And then, after a moment, "She's not a cougar."
Cora cackles brightly. — Heather Lyons

Connor asked that I make you like me," Ashton casually says, easing his tight grip on my hips so that I'm not pressed directly against his erection, allowing me to breathe again. His mouth twists as if from something sour. "Since he really likes you." Then he sighs, looking over my head, as he adds, "And I'm his best friend." As if he's reminding himself of that. Right, Connor. I swallow. The mention of Connor and his feelings for me while my hands are still flattened against his best friend's chest, the one that I pawed repeatedly not even two weeks ago, fills me with guilt. "So?" Serious dark eyes lock on my face. "How do I do that, Irish? How do I make you like me? — K.A. Tucker

Home is the place we should return to with eager spirits, the journey's end we reach with sighs of contentment. — Karen Burton Mains

Excess of trouble may, for a time, distract and overwhelm the soul. Our Lord himself seems to have experienced somewhat of this. Our prayers, perhaps, are never more acceptable, than when they are offered in broken accents, in sighs, and groans. — Charles Simeon

The stars shone through the leafless jasmine branches. Behind them they heard the river flowing, and now and again on the bank the rustling of the dry reeds. Masses of shadow here and there loomed out in the darkness, and sometimes, vibrating with one movement, they rose up and swayed like immense black waves pressing forward to engulf them. The cold of the nights made them clasp closer; the sighs of their lips seemed to them deeper; their eyes, that they could hardly see, larger; and in the midst of the silence low words were spoken that fell on their souls sonorous, crystalline, and that reverberated in multiplied vibrations. — Gustave Flaubert

The happiest woman sees not gladness alone reflected from her mirror; its surface will inevitably be sometimes dimmed with sighs. — Louise Colet

In my madness I was actually in love with her for the few hours it all lasted; it was the same unmistakable ache and stab across the mind, the same sighs, the same pain, and above all the same reluctance and fear to approach. — Jack Kerouac

Ukraina: he sighs, breathing in the remembered scent of mown hay and cherry blossom. But I catch the distinct synthetic whiff of New Russia. Her — Marina Lewycka

Thy sunbeam comes upon this earth of mine with arms outstretched and stands at my door the livelong day to carry back to thy feet clouds made of my tears and sighs and songs.
With fond delight thou wrappest about thy starry breast that mantle of misty cloud, turning it into numberless shapes and folds and colouring it with hues everchanging.
It is so light and so fleeting, tender and tearful and dark, that is why thou lovest it, O thou spotless and serene. And that is why it may cover thy awful white light with its pathetic shadows. — Rabindranath Tagore

Doves coo in the rafters above us as she sits down on the blanket, her loathed dress whispering around her. She pops a grape into her mouth and sighs. "This is so unreal. I feel like a princess."
She couldn't have given me a better opening for the conversation I've been hoping to have.
"Funny," I say. "I was thinking the same thing."
Delilah frowns. "You feel like a princess too? — Jodi Picoult

Classical Sanskrit prose writers made very long sentences like this: "Lost in the forest and in thought, bent upon death and at the root of a tree, fallen upon calamity and her nurse's bosom, parted from her husband and happiness, burnt with the fierce sunshine and the woes of widowhood, her mouth closed with silence as well as by her hand, held fast by her companions as well as by grief, I saw her with her kindred and her graces all gone, her ears and her soul left bare, her ornaments and her aims abandoned, her bracelets and her hopes broken, her companions and the needle-like grass-spears clinging round her feet, her eyes and her beloved fixed within her bosom, her sighs and her hair long, her limbs and her merits exhausted, her aged attendants and her streams of tears falling down at her feet...." and it goes on. — Abraham Eraly

My wife, my Mary, goes to her sleep the way you would close the door of a closet. So many times I have watched her with envy. Her lovely body squirms a moment as though she fitted herself into a cocoon. She sighs once and at the end of it her eyes close and her lips, untroubled, fall into that wise and remote smile of the Ancient Greek gods. She smiles all night in her sleep, her breath purrs in her throat, not a snore, a kitten's purr ... She loves to sleep and sleep welcomes her. — John Steinbeck

What do you want, Patrick?" she sighs.
"I just want peace, love, friendship, understanding," I say dispassionately. — Bret Easton Ellis

My father, my father, and dost thou not hear
The words that the Erl-King now breathes in mine ear?
'Be calm, dearest child, 'tis thy fancy deceives;
Tis the sad wind that sighs through the withering leaves. — Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe

Sonnet: To the River Otter

Dear native brook! wild streamlet of the West!
How many various-fated years have passed,
What happy and what mournful hours, since last
I skimmed the smooth thin stone along thy breast,
Numbering its light leaps! Yet so deep impressed
Sink the sweet scenes of childhood, that mine eyes
I never shut amid the sunny ray,
But straight with all their tints thy waters rise,
Thy crossing plank, thy marge with willows grey,
And bedded sand that, veined with various dyes,
Gleamed through thy bright transparence! On my way,
Visions of childhood! oft have ye beguiled
Lone manhood's cares, yet waking fondest sighs:
Ah! that once more I were a careless child! — Samuel Taylor Coleridge

I'll not always be here on guard. The stars twinkle in the Milky Way and the wind sighs for songs across the empty fields of a planet a Galaxy away.
You won't always be here.
But before you go, whisper this to your sons and their sons - The work was free. Keep it so. — L. Ron Hubbard

They'd crossed over to that continent where grieving parents lived. It looked the same as the rest of the world, but wasn't. Colors bled pale. Music was just notes. Books no longer transported or comforted, not fully. Never again. Food was nutrition, little more. Breaths were sighs. And they knew something the rest didn't. They knew how lucky the rest of the world was. — Louise Penny

Logan's donating a sculpture to the town. He didn't want to make a big deal about it--wanted it on the down low, so they're doing a small unveiling."

"Down low, Gwen?"

"I know, aren't I cool?"

We all turn back to the scene across the street. I ask, "What do you think it is?"

"I hope it's a self-portrait, a nude one." Josh sighs.

Gwen and I eye him, but he has the faraway dreamy look about him. Clearly he's envisioning Logan naked. I lean over and whisper, "Whatever you're thinking, it's better."

His eyes narrow at me. "You are a hateful woman. — L.A. Fiore

From being used so much, kneaded with sweat and sighs, the air in the room had begun to turn to mud. — Gabriel Garcia Marquez

His wet white face and miserable eyesBrought nurses to him more than groans and sighs:But hoarse and low and rapid rose and fellHis troubled voice: he did the business well.(First verse of Died of Wounds) — Siegfried Sassoon

I regret ... " Tobias tilts his head, and sighs. "I regret my choice."
"What Choice?"
"Dauntless," he says. "I was born Abnegation. I was planning on leaving Dauntless, and becoming factionless. But I met her, and ... I felt like maybe I could make something more of my decision."
Her. — Veronica Roth

My galley, charged with forgetfulness,
Thorough sharp seas in winter nights doth pass
'Tween rock and rock; and eke mine enemy, alas,
That is my lord, steereth with cruelness;
And every oar a thought in readiness,
As though that death were light in such a case.
An endless wind doth tear the sail apace
Of forced sighs and trusty fearfulness.
A rain of tears, a cloud of dark disdain,
Hath done the weared cords great hinderance;
Wreathed with error and eke with ignorance.
The stars be hid that led me to this pain.
Drowned is reason that should me consort,
And I remain despairing of the port. — Thomas Wyatt

The universe sings a deep, eternal song, sound in waves, in deep sighs, in whispers, in swirling chords and rising, falling tones. The music of the worlds, weaving in a pattern that is both chaos and order, both beauty and terror, without beginning, without end. — Jessica Khoury

He sighs and bows his head, burying his face in his hands. I touch his hair. His ears. Bear may be my rock, but Dom is the force that moves me. — T.J. Klune

In my opinion, the trombone is the true head of the family of wind instruments, which I have named the 'epic' one. It possesses nobility and grandeur to the highest degree; it has all the serious and powerful tones of sublime musical poetry, from religious, calm and imposing accents to savage, orgiastic outburst. Directed by the will of the master, the trombones can chant like a choir of priests, threaten, utter gloomy sighs, a mournful lament, or a bright hymn of glory; they can break forth into awe-inspiring cries and awaken the dead or doom the living with their fearful voices. — Hector Berlioz

Homework, I have discovered, involves a sharp pencil and thick books and long sighs. — Katherine Applegate

Come away, come away, Death,
And in sad cypress let me be laid;
Fly away, fly away, breath,
I am slain by a fair cruel maid.
My shroud of white stuck all with yew, O prepare it!
My part of death no one so true did share it.
Not a flower, not a flower sweet,
On my black coffin let there be strewn:
Not a friend, not a friend greet
My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown.
A thousand thousand sighs to save, lay me O where
Sad true lover never find my grave, to weep there! — William Shakespeare

He sighs as if a little disgusted with himself. 'Lately, I seem to be all about you.'
'What makes you say that?' I wish my voice didn't sound so breathless.
'I'm sitting on the hard floor outside your door while you take a cozy little nap, aren't I? — Susan Ee

Sully suffers from a stutter,
simple syllables will clutter,
stalling speeches up on beaches
like a sunken sailboat rudder.
Sully strains to say his phrases,
sickened by the sounds he raises,
strings of thoughts come out in knots,
he solves his sentences like mazes.
At night, he writes his thoughts instead
and sighs as they steadily rush from his head. — Bo Burnham

There she stood, very pale and quiet, with her large grave eyes observing everything, - up to every present circumstance, however small. They could not understand how her heart was aching all the time, with a heavy pressure that no sighs could lift off or relieve, and how constant exertion for her perceptive faculties was the only way to keep herself from crying out with pain. — Elizabeth Gaskell

The elements of voice and style are braided together like twine, consisting of these attempts to copy other artists, or an instrument, or even the sound of a bird or passing train. Added to these characteristics are emotions and thoughts that register as various vocal quirks, like hiccups, sighs, growls, warbles - a practically limitless assortment of choices. Most of these choices are made at the speed of sound on a subconscious level, or one would be completely overwhelmed by the task. — Linda Ronstadt

The sound of his sleep, the snores and sighs and small noices, is company. — Jackie Kay

On the drive home, Adam glances at me several times, clearly wanting to talk about what's happened.
But I can barely look up from the door latch.
Exactly six pain-filled minutes later, he pulls over at the corner of my street and puts the car in park. "Do you hate me?" he asks.
"More like I hate myself."
"Yeah." He sighs. "Kissing me tends to have that effect on women."
"That's not what I meant."
"Don't worry about it," he says, still trying to make light of the situation. "It's my fault. It won't happen again."
"I let it happen."
"Yes, but only because you couldn't help yourself. I must admit, I'm far too irresistible for my own good."
"I wouldn't go that far." I can't help but smile. — Laurie Faria Stolarz

Let me guess," Eric says, "You never meant for it to happen."
"Hell, yes, I did. I've wanted her since you two started dating."
Surprised, Eric blinks at me, and then even laughs a little. "I know."
"You did?"
"For God's sake, you're about as subtle as Hiroshima, Fitz." He sighs. — Jodi Picoult

What is a poet? An unhappy person who conceals profound anguish in his heart but whose lips are so formed that as sighs and cries pass over them they sound like beautiful music. — Soren Kierkegaard

Locking everyone up is not the solution,' she sighs, staring into a cup of coffee gone cold as The Box at Juvenile Hall. 'It's just the symptom of the problem. It's the proof that we're doing something wrong. — Edward Humes

It's not funny, Kacey!" I hiss. "That guy forced himself on me!"
She rolls her eyes but then, after a long pause, she sighs. "Yeah, you're right." Reaching over, she pinches the guy's arm without hesitation. "Hey, buddy!"
"You do that to her again and I'll sneak into your room and rip your balls off while you sleep, capisce?" she warns with a pointed finger. Most times my sister's threats involve the mutilation of testicles. — K.A. Tucker

Marriage I think
For women
Is the best of opiates.
It kills the thoughts
That think about the thoughts,
It is the best of opiates.
So said Maria.
But too long in solitude she'd dwelt,
And too long her thoughts had felt
Their strength. So when the man drew near,
Out popped her thoughts and covered him with fear.
Poor Maria!
Better that she had kept her thoughts on a chain,
For now she's alone again and all in pain;
She sighs for the man that went and the thoughts that stay
To trouble her dreams by night and her dreams by day. — Stevie Smith

By late autumn the yard would grow thick with fallen leaves, causing the landlady to heave many deep sighs. — Takashi Hiraide

This senior-junior, giant-dwarf, Dan Cupid;
Regent of love-rhymes, lord of folded arms,
The anointed sovereign of sighs and groans,
Liege of all loiterers and malcontents. — William Shakespeare

He could hear trhe voices, the whispers, the sighs, of these souls who were unable to let go of their burdens ... Pi understood this need to hold on. To let let go of his pain. It had become such a part of him. Who would he be without it? The thought frightened him. So he wandered the halls of the catacombs like the other souls who were half-dead and half-alive. — Clare Vanderpool

From out the throng and stress of lies, from out the painful noise of sighs, one voice of comfort seems to rise: It is the meaner part that dies. — William Morris

She rubs my back and sighs.
Jesus Abby, I'm so sorry. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're still hung up on him. Big time. — Annie Brewer

After all, the world is not a stage-not to me: nor a theatre: nor a show-house of any sort. And art, especially novels, are not little theatres where the reader sits aloft and watches ... and sighs, commiserates, condones and smiles. That's what you want a book to be: because it leaves you so safe and superior, with your two-dollar ticket to the show. And that's what my books are not and never will be ... Whoever reads me will be in the thick of the scrimmage, and if he doesn't like it if he wants a safe seat in the audience-let him read someone else. — D.H. Lawrence

Another silence for the record books. Then he sighs.
"I know. It's crazy. I feel like
" He stops himself. He suddenly looks so miserable that my heart aches for him.
I hate my life. — Cynthia Hand

She sighs and the small release of breath bothers me. This girl needs to be off doing things that make her happy. Not standing here with me, confused and torn. It's just further proof that I'm no good to be around. I'm turning one of the happiest people I know into something she was never meant to be.
I'm turning her into me. — Melyssa Winchester

Menelaus, if you are really going to kill her, Then my blessing go with you, but you must do it now, Before her looks so twist the strings of your heart That they turn your mind; for her eyes are like armies, And where her glances fall, there cities burn, / Until the dust of their ashes is blown By her sighs. I know her, Menelaus, And so do you. And all those who know her suffer. — Neil Curry

And the very folds of the curtains contained secrets and sighs. — Anais Nin