Strike Smell Quotes & Sayings

But I had only met Kraunauer recently, spent less than an hour in his company, and I didn't really know him at all, except to know that he was, in his own way, as completely without feelings as I was. I knew this from his reputation, of course. But from being in his company I had also sensed that somewhere behind his eyes there lurked that familiar Dark Emptiness. He was a predator, totally without mercy, the kind of dedicated and enthusiastic shark who didn't even need the smell of blood in the water to strike. He ripped out chunks of flesh because that's what he was made to do, and he liked it that way. Naturally enough, that kind of inborn enthusiasm struck a chord in me. — Jeff Lindsay

Baseball isn't just a game. It's the smell of popcorn drifting in the air, the sight of bugs buzzing near the stadium lights,the roughness of the dirt beneath your cleats. It's the anticipation building in your chest as the anthem plays, the adrenaline rush when your bat cracks against the ball, and the surge of blood when the umpire shouts strike after you pitch. It's a team full of guys backing your every move, a bleacher full of people cheering you on. It's ... life — Katie McGarry

Her mind was like a spring-tide in full flood; rich, shining, vigorous, and capable of infinite variety. — Vera Brittain

Weeding the peony hedge I hear the windfalls in the orchard; hear them strike the ground, hear them strike against branches as they fall to the ground. The immemorial smell of apples, old as the sea. Mary makes jelly. Up from the kitchen, up the stairs and into all the rooms comes the smell of apples. — John Cheever

It was made from the black lotus, whose blossoms wave in the lost jungles of Khitai, where only the yellow-skulled priests of Yun dwell. Those blossoms strike dead any who smell of them. — Robert E. Howard

To do this walk, I believe it's around 2,000 feet, to go from the U.S. to Canada. I would train walking a wire almost 8,000 feet, to overtrain for this. — Nik Wallenda

key. 'Duggan, Grant!' she yelled. 'Chisel, hammer, now!' Howard grabbed the tools from the guards. He set the chisel against the lock and cracked it open with a single strike. Lucy flung open the freezer lid. The smell hit them like a physical blow. Trying not to retch, Lucy swung her torch beam inside. A girl was lying on her side. She was naked. She wore a handcuff on her left wrist which didn't appear to be secured to anything. — C.J. Carver

You'll never be great at anything you're not passionate about. — Royce White

Marooned by all but one of his new disciples, the busker complete his act unfazed. The perfumed air seems to be replaced by a faint electrical smell like ozone after a lightning strike. When the man becomes a sterling tableau in the setting sun, Leah stares into his unblinking moonstone eye. — Laura Treacy Bentley

Imagine trying to live in a world dominated by dihydrogen oxide, a compound that has no taste or smell and is so variable in its properties that it is generally benign but at other times swiftly lethal. Depending on its state, it can scald you or freeze you. In the presence of certain organic molecules it can form carbonic acids so nasty that they can strip the leaves from trees and eat the faces off statuary. In bulk, when agitated, it can strike with a fury that no human edifice could withstand. Even for those who have learned to live with it, it is an often murderous substance. We call it water. — Bill Bryson

When it rains, I remember — Ally Condie

we would always think: 'Okay, if we do X today, what does that result in tomorrow, a year from now, ten years from now?' The — Timothy Ferriss

There is One Infinite Mind, which of necessity includes all that is, whether it be the intelligence in man, the life in the animal, or the invisible Presence which is God. — Ernest Holmes

One of the reasons so many nonfiction books are so boring is because what they've done, very diligently, is fulfill the terms of their proposals. They've written up their proposal, long-form, and often what this does is then set up a sort of serial deal, where the whole book can essentially be reduced back to the size of the original proposal! — Geoff Dyer

When all the world is old, lad, And all the trees are brown; And all the sport is stale, lad, And all the wheels run down, Creep home and take your place there, The spent and maimed among: God grant you find one face there You loved when all was young. — Susanna Kearsley

Don't be scared, Shroom said. Because you're going to be scared. So when you start to get scared, don't be scared. — Ben Fountain

The killer: our anxiety not only makes us miserable, but ruins the interaction. People smell it on you. They react to it. They're less likely to hire you or buy from you or have fun at your party. The very thing you are afraid of occurs, precisely because you are afraid of it, which of course makes the shenpa cycle even worse. Shenpa is caused by a conflict between the lizard brain (which wants to strike out or to flee) and the rest of our brain, which desires achievement, connection, and grace. Oscillating between the two merely makes things worse. It seems that you have two choices for ending the cycle: you can flee or you can stay. — Seth Godin

Some debts should never be tallied, he says. I myself, I know what is owed me, but by God I know what I owe. — Hilary Mantel

Some people say hockey is like religion, but that's wrong. Hockey is like faith. Religion is something between you and other people; it's full of interpretations and theories and opinions. But faith...that's just between you and God. It's what you feel in your chest when the referee glides out to the center circle between two players, when you hear the sticks strike each other and see the black disk fall between them. Then it's just between you and hockey. Because cherry trees always smell of cherry trees, whereas money smells of nothing — Fredrik Backman

The Sabbath is not for the sake of the weekdays; the weekdays are for the sake of Sabbath. It is not an interlude but the climax of living. — Abraham Joshua Heschel

She felt the snake between her breasts, felt him there, and loved him there, coiled, the deep tumescent S held rigid, ready to strike. She loved the way the snake looked sewn onto her V-neck letter sweater, his hard diamondback pattern shining in the sun. It was unseasonably hot, almost sixty degrees, for early November in Mystic, Georgia, and she could smell the light musk of her own sweat. She liked the sweat, liked the way it felt, slick as oil, in all the joints of her body, her bones, in the firm sliding muscles, tensed and locked now, ready to spring
to strike
when the band behind her fired up the school song: "Fight On Deadly Rattlers of Old Mystic High."
Harry Crews- A Feast of Snakes — Harry Crews