Ears Quotes - Page 34

For women, the best aphrodisiacs are words. The G-spot is in the ears. He who looks for it below there is wasting his time.

Isabel Allende

Love, Inspirational, Life

"Biography/ Personal Quotes". www.imdb.com.

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Heart weeps. Head tries to help heart. Head tells heart how it is, again: You will lose the ones you love. They will all go. But even the earth will go, someday. Heart feels better, then. But the words of head do not remain long in the ears of heart. Heart is so new to this. I want them back, says heart. Head is all heart has. Help, head. Help heart.

Lydia Davis

Heart, Feel Better, Long

Lydia Davis (2007). “Varieties of Disturbance: Stories”, p.191, Farrar, Straus and Giroux

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She's kind of funny looking. Her face is out of balance--broad forehead, button nose, freckled cheeks, and pointy ears. A slammed-together, rough sort of face you can't ignore. Still, the whole package isn't so bad. For all I know maybe she's not so wild about her own looks, but she seems comfortable with who she is, and that's the important thing.

Haruki Murakami

Balance, Important, Together

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I'll just be your brother from now on." he said, looking at her with a hopeful expectation that she would be pleased, which made her want to scream that he was smashing her heart into pieces and he had to stop. "That's what you wanted, isn't it?" It took her a long time to answer, and when she did, her own voice sounded like an echo, coming from very far away. "Yes," she said, and she heard the rush of waves in her ears and her eyes stung as if from sand or salt spray. "That's what I wanted.

Cassandra Clare

Brother, Heart, Eye

Cassandra Clare (2008). “City of Ashes”, p.451, Simon and Schuster

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He's probably their battle poet, too." "You mean he makes up heroic songs about famous battles?" "No, no. He recites poems that frighten the enemy....When a well-trained gonnagle starts to recite, the enemy's ears explode.

Terry Pratchett

Song, Mean, Enemy

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That, lad," he said proudly, "was some of the worst poetry I have heard for a long time. It was offensive to the ear and a torrrture to the soul....We'll make a gonnagle out of ye yet!

Terry Pratchett

Long, Soul, Offensive

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The Shell The sea fills my ear with sand and with fear. You may wash out the sand, but never the sound of the ghost of the sea that is haunting me.

Ted Hughes

Sea, Sound, Shells

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I was in his hands, he called me by the thunder at my ear. I was in his hands: I was being changed; all that I could do was cling to him. I did not realize, until I realized it, that I was also kissing him, that everything was breaking and changing and turning in me and moving toward him.

James A. Baldwin

Moving, Kissing, Hands

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Mmm, he rumbled into my ear. I thought that being married meant that I never go to bed hungry.

Patricia Briggs

Bed, Married, Hungry

Patricia Briggs (2011). “River Marked”, p.51, Penguin

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Even then, more than a year earlier, there were neurons in her head, not far from her ears, that were being strangled to death, too quietly for her to hear them. Some would argue that things were going so insiduously wrong that the neurons themselves initiated events that would lead to their own destruction. Whether it was molecular murder or cellular suicide, they were unable to warn her of what was happening before they died.

Lisa Genova

Suicide, Years, Events

Lisa Genova (2011). “Lisa Genova Box Set: Still Alice and Left Neglected”, p.17, Simon and Schuster

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Education doesn’t make you happy. Nor does freedom. We don’t become happy just because we’re free – if we are. Or because we’ve been educated – if we have. But because education may be the means by which we realize we are happy. It opens our eyes, our ears, tells us where delights are lurking, convinces us that there is only one freedom of any importance whatsoever, that of the mind, and gives us the assurance – the confidence – to walk the path our mind, our educated mind, offers.

Iris Murdoch

Mean, Eye, Convince Us

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What about your freedom?" he whispered in her ear over a minute later, bracing his hands palms down on the wall beside her head. He made no move to stop her as she stroked and petted every inch of that sinfully gorgeous chest, all hard muscle and gleaming skin overlaid with silky-rough strands of dark hair. "Idiot." She nipped his jaw with her teeth. "The only freedom I ever wanted was the right to love you.

Nalini Singh

Wall, Moving, Love You

Nalini Singh, Maggie Shayne, Erin McCarthy, Jean Johnson, Lora Leigh (2010). “Paranormal Holiday Anthology Trio”, p.305, Penguin

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he kissed me hard. "Promise me. Promise me you'll spend New Year's with me next year," he whispered into my ear.

Gayle Forman

New Year, Years, Promise

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Into the silence rips a sound that makes me let go of Max's hand and cover my ears. It is like the strafe of a bullet, nails on a chalkboard, promises being broken. It's a note I have never heard - this chord of pure pain - and it takes a moment to realize it is coming from me.

Jodi Picoult

Letting Go, Pain, Rip

Jodi Picoult (2014). “Sing You Home: A Novel”, p.25, Simon and Schuster

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In a world of chance is there a better and a worse? We yield to a stranger's embrace or give ourselves to the waves; for the blink of an eyelid our vigilance relaxes; we are asleep; and when we awake, we have lost the direction of our lives. What are these blinks of an eyelid, against which the only defence is an eternal and inhuman wakefulness? Might they not be the cracks and chinks through which another voice, other voices, speak in our lives? By what right do we close our ears to them? (Susan Barton)

J. M. Coetzee

Yield, Voice, Giving

J. M. Coetzee (2017). “Foe: A Novel”, p.25, Penguin

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Everything is always a story, but the loveliest ones are those that get written and are not torn up and are taken to a friend as payment for listening, for putting a wise keyhole to the ear of my mind

Janet Frame

Wise, Taken, Listening

Janet Frame (1951). “The lagoon: stories”

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Too many of us take great pains with what we ingest through our mouths, and far less with what we partake of through our ears and eyes.

Brandon Sanderson

Pain, Eye, Mouths

Brandon Sanderson (2010). “The Way of Kings”, p.136, Macmillan

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Perfume companies ought to bottle the smell of crisp bacon. Forget pheromones. I’ll bet a woman with a little spot of bacon grease behind her ears would attract every male within a five-mile radius.

Blaize Clement

Smell, Grease, Males

Blaize Clement (2007). “Curiosity Killed the Cat Sitter: The First Dixie Hemingway Mystery”, p.78, Macmillan

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In order to arouse sympathy, the aristocracy was obliged to lose sight, apparently, of its own interests, and to formulate its indictment against the bourgeoisie in the interest of the exploited working class alone. Thus, the aristocracy took their revenge by singing lampoons on their new masters and whispering in his ears sinister prophesies of coming catastrophe.

Karl Marx

Revenge, Class, Sight

Karl Marx, Frederick Engels (2005). “The Communist Manifesto: A Road Map to History's Most Important Political Document”, p.36, Haymarket Books

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...if you are writing without zest, without gusto, without love, without fun, you are only half a writer. It means you are so busy keeping one eye on the commercial market, or one ear peeled for the avant-garde coterie, that you are not being yourself. You don't even know yourself. For the first thing a writer should be is-- excited. He should be a thing of fevers and enthusiasms.

Ray Bradbury

Being Yourself, Fun, Eye

Ray Bradbury (2015). “Zen in the Art of Writing”, p.12, HarperCollins UK

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I spoke to ears that refused to hear.

Ronald Reagan

Spokes

Ronald Reagan (1983). “A Time for Choosing: The Speeches of Ronald Reagan, 1961-1982”, Gateway Books

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My daughter squealed again and both Bubba and I winced. It’s not an attractive sound, that. It’s high-pitched and it enters your ear canals like hot glass. No matter how much I love my daughter, I will never love her squealing. Or maybe I will. Maybe I do. Driving down 93, I realized once and for all, that I love the things that chafe. The things that fill me with stress so total I can’t remember when a block of it didn’t rest on top of my heart. I love what, if broken, can’t be repaired. What, if lost can’t be replaced. I love my burdens.

Dennis Lehane

Daughter, Stress, Block

"Moonlight Mile". Book by Dennis Lehane, 2011.

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Eyes blinded by the fog of things cannot see truth. Ears deafened by the din of things cannot hear truth. Brains bewildered by the whirl of things cannot think truth. Hearts deadened by the weight of things cannot feel truth. Throats choked by the dust of things cannot speak truth.

Harold Bell Wright

Heart, Eye, Thinking

Harold Bell Wright (1910). “The uncrowned king”

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The answer came to me before I'd even finished asking myself the question. I couldn't be Mason's girlfriend because when I imagined someone holding me and whispering dirty things in my ear, he had a Russian accent.

Richelle Mead

Girlfriend, Dirty, Asking

Richelle Mead (2013). “Vampire Academy: The Complete Collection”, p.106, Penguin

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A surging, seething, murmuring crowd of beings that are human only in name, for to the eye and ear they seem naught but savage creatures, animated by vile passions and by the lust of vengeance and of hate. The hour, some little time before sunset, and the place, the West Barricade, at the very spot where, a decade later, a proud tyrant raised an undying monument to the nation's glory and his own vanity.

Baroness Orczy

Hate, Passion, Sunset

Baroness Orczy (2015). “The Scarlet Pimpernel”, p.5, Xist Publishing

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