Waking Up In Your Arm Quotes & Sayings

You know that the formula is askew when even if the formula is working, it's not; when even if everything's going right, something is wrong. — Neale Donald Walsch

I try to photograph things that are near to me because I work best among things I know. I'm not concerned with startling anyone or discovering new forms; formal qualities are only tools to help state my message. — Roy DeCarava

I wake up.
Immediately I have to figure out who I am. It's not just the body - opening my eyes and discovering whether the skin on my arm is light or dark, whether my hair is long or short, whether I'm fat or thin, boy or girl, scarred or smooth. The body is the easiest thing to adjust to, if you're used to waking up in a new one each morning. It's the life, the context of the body, that can be hard to grasp.
Every day I am someone else. I am myself - I know I am myself - but I am also someone else.
It has always been like this. — David Levithan

To all those who doubt the power of exercise -- and I was one of you -- take it from me: physical fitness has translated into an intellectual fitness I could not have imagined... I've learned that "I don't need to go for a run today" comes out of the same part of my brain as "I don't need to confront my vice president today about the low performance of his department." One suffer-session at a time, I have trained that part of my brain to endure short-term pain in exchange for long-term benefits. — Edward Stevens

Conscience is, in most men, an anticipation of the opinions of others. — Henry Taylor

The dead won't hurt you, Shahara. Only the living can do that. (Syn) — Sherrilyn Kenyon

I haven't seen Joel for a while. Where he once projected all laidback cool, now he's edgy, stalking around the kitchen. Alice churns out pancakes and the younger kids sit at the table, watching as if their older siblings are Nickelodeon. — Huntley Fitzpatrick

In the early morning as dawn was just beginning to streak through the cabin windows, Jack was stirred awake by the soft sound of slightly off-key humming. He found Mel nestled into the crook of his arm, her breath tickling his chest. She was purring, humming, her lips moving slightly, as though singing. It might've troubled him if her expression had been sad or disturbed. But she was smiling. She snuggled closer, throwing a leg over his. And this sleepy little music, contented, drifted out of her. He could count on one hand the number of times he'd spent the entire night in bed with a woman. And already, he couldn't imagine waking up alone. He pulled her closer knowing he'd never been happier in his life. — Robyn Carr

Life is all about moments. No one in history has ever been able to hold on to one. — Prince Ea

Last week, our picture window
Produced a half-word,
Heavy and hollow,
Hit by a brown bird.
We stood and watched her gape like a rattlesnake
And pant and labor over every intake.
I said a sort of prayer for some rare grace,
Then thought i ought to take her to a higher place.
Said, dog nor vulture nor cat shall toy with you,
And though you die, bird, you will have a fine view. — Joanna Newsom

I had a dream about you last night. Our vices had wings and our fears could breathe fire. There was nowhere to hide and we were trapped alive. So you reached for your sword and slashed my arm, waking me and saving my life. — Crystal Woods

Even a deep chick like me needed to have a shallow spot somewhere inside. — Ash Krafton

The next morning, I lie in bed beside my sister, as we used to do as girls in the nursery. She is still sleeping soundly, an arm over her face, the light sheet like a shroud over her soft body. I think of my children waking alone in the apartment on — Sheila Kohler

Count up the almonds, Count what was bitter and kept you waking, Count me in too: I sought your eye when you glanced up and no one would see you, I spun that secret thread Where the dew you mused on Slid down to pitchers Tended by a word that reached no one's heart. There you first fully entered the name that is yours, you stepped to yourself on steady feet, the hammers swung free in the belfry of your silence, things overheard thrust through to you, what's dead put it's arm around you too, and the three of you walked through the evening. Render me bitter. Number me among the almonds — Paul Celan

I have slept with you all night long while the dark earth spins with the living and the dead, and on waking suddenly in the midst of the shadow my arm encircled your waist. Neither night nor sleep could separate us. — Pablo Neruda

The 3 types of terror: The Gross-out: the sight of a severed head tumbling down a flight of stairs, it's when the lights go out and something green and slimy splatters against your arm. The Horror: the unnatural, spiders the size of bears, the dead waking up and walking around, it's when the lights go out and something with claws grabs you by the arm. And the last and worse one: Terror, when you come home and notice everything you own had been taken away and replaced by an exact substitute. It's when the lights go out and you feel something behind you, you hear it, you feel its breath against your ear, but when you turn around, there's nothing there ... — Stephen King