Pulse Quotes - Page 5

• Trent looked me up and down. “Is that all you’re going to do?” My pulse quickened, and I gazed at the front of the basilica where the scratching was coming from. “I might have a snack later if nothing comes through those doors.

  Kim Harrison

  Doors, Snacks, Might

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• One can't live with one's finger everlastingly on one's pulse.

  Joseph Conrad

  Fingers

  Joseph Conrad (2008). “Heart of Darkness and Other Tales”, OUP Oxford

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• History had a slow pulse; man counted in years, history in generations

  Arthur Koestler

  Men, Years, Generations

  Arthur Koestler (2015). “Darkness at Noon”, p.265, Simon and Schuster

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• I'm losing my mind without you.” His lips were gliding down my neck, his tongue stroking over my racing pulse. He sucked on my skin and pleasure radiated through me. “I can’t think. I can’t work or sleep. My body aches for you. I can make you want me again. Let me try.

  Sylvia Day

  Sleep, Thinking, Racing

  FaceBook post by Sylvia Day from Apr 23, 2013

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• The impression of strength came from an extraordinary vitality that seemed to pulse in the very air around him

  Elizabeth George Speare

  Air, Vitality, Impression

  Elizabeth George Speare (1961). “The bronze bow”, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt (HMH)

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• I touched the combination lock. I concentrated so hard I felt like I was dead-lifting five hundred pounds. My pulse quickening. A line of sweat trickled down my nose. Finally I felt gears turning. Metal groaned, tumblers clicked, and the bolts popped back. Carefully avoiding the handle, I pried open the door with my fingertips and extracted an unbroken vial of green liquid. Hal exhaled. Thalia kissed me on the cheek, which she probably shouldn't haven't done while I was holding a tube of deadly poison. "You are so good," she said. Did that make the risk worth? Yeah, pretty much.

  Rick Riordan

  Doors, Sweat, Risk

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• In my palm I can feel the echo of her pulse, standing in for the absense of mine.

  Isaac Marion

  Echoes, Palms, Feels

  Isaac Marion (2016). “Warm Bodies and The New Hunger: A Special 5th Anniversary Edition”, p.66, Simon and Schuster

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• There is a little narrowing to his eyes at the end of it that makes me understand that this is a test. Whether or not I'm brave enough to go into the stall with Corr after yesterday morning, after I've had time to think about what happened. The thought of it makes my pulse trip. The question is not if I trust Corr. The question is if I trust Sean.

  Maggie Stiefvater

  Morning, Eye, Thinking

  Maggie Stiefvater (2011). “The Scorpio Races”, p.272, Scholastic UK

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• Sean reaches out between us and takes my wrist. He press his thumb on my pulse. My heartbeat trips and surges against his skin. I'm pinned by his touch, a sort of fearful magic. We stand and stand, and I wait for my pulse against his finger to slow, but it doesn't Finally, he releases my wrist and says," I'll see you on the cliffs tomorrow.

  Maggie Stiefvater

  Waiting, Magic, Skins

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• She gently placed his hand against the beating pulse of her heart. Always, always it beat out of control, and he held his hand to it until he felt it perfectly match his.

  Melina Marchetta

  Heart, Hands, Beats

  Melina Marchetta (2015). “The Complete Lumatere Chronicles”, p.233, Penguin UK

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• ... nothing lasts long. We all come to life and gather allies and build empires and die, all in a single moment - maybe a single pulse of some giant processor somewhere.

  Robin Sloan

  Long, Giants, Empires

  Robin Sloan (2012). “Mr Penumbra's 24-hour Bookstore”, p.79, Atlantic Books Ltd

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• He'd been so angry at her -always pushing his buttons, that girl. But then he'd taken her into his arms, and all that anger had blazed into a darker, hotly possessive need that had urged him to bend his head, bite down on the throbbing pulse in her neck, leave a mark.

  Nalini Singh

  Girl, Taken, Buttons

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• His touch both consoles and devastates me; I feel my heart pulse, then wither, naked as a stone on the roaring mattress while the lovely, moony night slides through the window to dapple the flanks of this innocent who makes cages to keep the sweet birds in. Eat me, drink me; thirsty, cankered, goblin-ridden, I go back and back to him to have his fingers strip the tattered skin away and clothe me in his dress of water, this garment that drenches me, its slithering odour, its capacity for drowning.

  Angela Carter

  Sweet, Heart, Night

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• Modern business must have its finger continuously on the public pulse. It must understand the changes in the public mind and be prepared to interpret itself fairly and eloquently to changing opinion.

  Edward Bernays

  Mind, Modern Business, Opinion

  Edward L. Bernays (1930). “Propaganda”

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• You happened to me. You were as deep down as I’ve ever been. You were inside me like my pulse.

  Marilyn Hacker

  Happened, Deep Down

  Marilyn Hacker (2015). “A Stranger's Mirror: New and Selected Poems 1994-2014: New and Selected Poems 1994–2014”, p.66, W. W. Norton & Company

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• In the middle of a wrist's suicide slash-line, below the layered skin and above the pulse, there's an acupuncture point that says, Get back to who you were meant to be. This is the heart spot, the center. Your whole life the skin on that place will stay closest to being a baby's skin, as close as you can get anymore to the way you started, the way you once thought you'd always be.

  Monica Drake

  Suicide, Baby, Heart

  Monica Drake (2010). “Clown Girl: A Novel”, p.65, Hawthorne Books

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• If she were (looking into my eyes), she’d have seen how absolutely floored I was the first time I finally, truly saw her. The clouds moved at just the right moment, fully lighting her face by the moon. She was dazzlingly beautiful. Underneath thick lashes were eyes blue as ice, something cool to balance out the flames in her hair. I felt a strange flutter in my chest, like the glow of a fireplace or the warmth of the afternoon. It stayed there for a moment, playing with my pulse.

  Kiera Cass

  Beautiful, Eye, Moon

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• He once thought it himself, that he might die with grief: for his wife, his daughters, his sisters, his father and master the cardinal. But pulse, obdurate, keeps its rhythm. You think you cannot keep breathing, but your ribcage has other ideas, rising and falling, emitting sighs. You must thrive in spite of yourself; and so that you may do it, God takes out your heart of flesh, and gives you a heart of stone.

  Hilary Mantel

  Daughter, Father, Fall

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• When I am in the darkness, I want to think of it in the light, with you," he said, and straightened, and turned to walk toward the door. The parchment robes of the Silent Brothers moved around him as he moved, and Tessa watched him, paralyzed, every pulse of her heart beating out the words she could not say: Good-bye. Good-bye. Good-bye.

  Cassandra Clare

  Brother, Heart, Thinking

  Cassandra Clare (2013). “The Infernal Devices: Clockwork Angel; Clockwork Prince; Clockwork Princess”, p.1386, Simon and Schuster

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• Time was our very first king. We all live our lives to the aggressive ticking of the clock. We don't question that our lives are a grid of seconds; even our pulses oblige. No succeeding king can hope to hold this kind of power.

  Lauren DeStefano

  Kings, Firsts, Succeed

  FaceBook post by Lauren DeStefano from Apr 16, 2013

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• Then Day reaches out and touches my hand with his. He encloses it in a handshake. And just like that, I am linked with him again, I feel the pulse of our bond and his- tory and love through our hands, like a wave of magic, the return of a long-lost friend. Of something meant to be. The feeling brings tears to my eyes. Perhaps we can take a step forward together. “Hi,” he says. “I’m Daniel.” “Hi,” I reply. “I’m June.

  Marie Lu

  Eye, June, Hands

  Marie Lu (2013). “Champion: A Legend Novel”, p.230, Penguin

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• Dance is your pulse, your heartbeat, your breathing. It's the rhythm of your life. It's the expression in time and movement,in happiness, joy, sadness and envy.

  Jacques d'Amboise

  Dance, Sadness, Expression

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• Dance is your pulse, your heartbeat, your breathing. It's the rhythym of your life.

  Jacques d'Amboise

  Dance, Breathing, Dancing

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• Safe! safe! safe!' the pulse of the house beats wildly. Waking, I cry 'Oh, is this your buried treasure? The light in the heart.

  Virginia Woolf

  Happiness, Heart, Light

  Virginia Woolf (2015). “Monday or Tuesday”, p.5, Virginia Woolf

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• We are such docile creatures, normally, that it takes a virus to jolt us out of life's routine. A couple of days in a fever bed are, in a sense, health-giving; the change in body temperature, the change in pulse , and the change of scene have a restorative effect on the system equal to the hell they raise.

  E. B. White

  Couple, Health, Giving

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