Breasts Quotes - Page 38

• When they [breasts] are huge, you become very self-conscious...I've learned something though, through my years of pondering and pontificating, and that is: men love them, and I love that.

  Drew Barrymore

  Men, Self, Years

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• I cling unto the burning Æthyr like Lucifer that fell through the Abyss, and by the fury of his flight kindled the air. And I am Belial, for having seen the Rose upon thy breast, I have denied God. And I am Satan! I am Satan! I am cast out upon a burning crag! And the sea boils about the desolation thereof. And already the vultures gather, and feast upon my flesh.

  Aleister Crowley

  Air, Sea, Rose

  Aleister Crowley (2012). “The Best of the Equinox, Enochian Magic”, p.141, Weiser Books

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• When a man resolves to avenge himself, he should first of all tear out the heart from his breast.

  Alexandre Dumas

  Heart, Men, Tears

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• There are many reasons, of course, why someone might snap their fingers and grin. If you heard some pleasing music, for instance, you might snap your fingers and grin to demonstrate that the music had charms that could soothe your savage breast. If you were employed as a spy, you might snap your fingers and grin in order to deliver a message in secret snapping-and-grinning code.

  Daniel Handler

  Order, Secret, Spy

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• Hassan and I fed from the same breasts. We took our first steps on the same lawn in the same yard. And, under the same roof, we spoke our first words. Mine was Baba. His was Amir. My name. Looking back on it now, I think the foundation for what happened in the winter of 1975 —and all that followed— was already laid in those first words.

  Khaled Hosseini

  Winter, Thinking, Names

  Khaled Hosseini (2010). “The Complete Khaled Hosseini: Digital box set”, p.10, A&C Black

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• Hello, my sister, Libby, also your daughter, is snogging a potato in my bed. What are you going to do about it?' Dad started yelling uncontrollably. I wonder if he is having the male menopause? If he starts growing breasts, I will definitely be running away with the Circus.

  Louise Rennison

  Daughter, Running, Dad

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• Individuals are fine once you get to know them, especially if they're interesting in conversation or have large, sumptuous breasts, but I don't like people in the plural and I've seen very little to change my mind about that.

  Yahtzee Croshaw

  People, Interesting, Mind

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• There are some people who cannot help giving. Why? Because they experience a real psychological pleasure in doing so. They don't do it with an eye to their own advantage, they do it on the quiet; they detest doing it openly because that would take away some of the satisfaction. They do it in secret, with quick trembling hands, their breasts rocked by a spiritual well being which they do not themselves understand.

  Knut Hamsun

  Spiritual, Real, Eye

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• Man's maker was made man that He, Ruler of the stars, might nurse at His mother's breast; that the Bread might hunger, the Fountain thirst, the Light sleep, the Way be tired on its journey; that Truth might be accused of false witnesses, the Teacher be beaten with whips, the Foundation be suspended on wood; that Strength might grow weak; that the Healer might be wounded; that Life might die.

  Saint Augustine

  Mother, Teacher, Stars

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• Thing was' he faced them, and Harry was astonished to see that he was grinning, 'they bit of a bit more than they could chew with Gran. Little old witch living alone, they probably think they didn't need to send anyone particularly powerful. Anyway' Neville laughed, 'Dawlish is still in St Mungo's and Gran is on the run. She sent me a letter,' he clapped a hand to the breast pocket of his robes, 'telling me she was proud of me, that I'm my parents' son, and to keep it up

  J. K. Rowling

  Running, Powerful, Son

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• Moon and Sea You are the moon, dear love, and I the sea: The tide of hope swells high within my breast, And hides the rough dark rocks of life's unrest When your fond eyes smile near in perigee. But when that loving face is turned from me, Low falls the tide, and the grim rocks appear, And earth's dim coast-line seems a thing to fear. You are the moon, dear one, and I the sea.

  Ella Wheeler Wilcox

  Fall, Eye, Dark

  Ella Wheeler Wilcox, “Moon And Sea”

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• Requiescat Tread lightly, she is near Under the snow, Speak gently, she can hear The daisies grow. All her bright golden hair Tarnished with rust, She that was young and fair Fallen to dust. Lily-like, white as snow, She hardly knew She was a woman, so Sweetly she grew. Coffin-board, heavy stone, Lie on her breast, I vex my heart alone She is at rest. Peace, Peace, she cannot hear Lyre or sonnet, All my life’s buried here, Heap earth upon it.

  Oscar Wilde

  Lying, Heart, White

  Oscar Wilde, Russell Jackson, Ian Small (2000). “The Complete Works of Oscar Wilde: Poems and poems in prose”, p.5, Oxford University Press on Demand

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• Now if you're not „hot”, you are expected to work on it until you are. It's like when you renovate a house and you're legally required to leave just one of the original walls standing. If you don't have a good body you have down to a neutral shape, then bolt on some breast implants, replace your teeth, dye you hair, and call yourself the Playmate of the Year. How do we survive this? How do we teach our daughters and our gay sons that they are good enough the way they are? We have to lead by example.

  Tina Fey

  Daughter, Wall, Son

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• My heart is heavy, she thought. It’s not just a saying. It is what is—heavy, a great stone lodged in my breast, pressing down my whole being. How can I even stand straight and look out upon the world? I am doubled over into myself and, for all the weight, find only emptiness.

  Katherine Paterson

  Heart, Looks, World

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• I am not jealous of what came before me. Come with a man on your shoulders, come with a hundred men in your hair, come with a thousand men between your breasts and your feet, come like a river full of drowned men which flows down to the wild sea, to the eternal surf, to Time! Bring them all to where I am waiting for you; we shall always be alone, we shall always be you and I alone on earth, to start our life!

  Pablo Neruda

  Jealous, Men, Hair

  Pablo Neruda (1994). “The captain's verses”

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• I know I am but summer to your heart, And not the full four seasons of the year; And you must welcome from another part Such noble moods as are not mine, my dear. No gracious weight of golden fruits to sell Have I, nor any wise and wintry thing; And I have loved you all too long and well To carry still the high sweet breast of Spring. Wherefore I say: O love, as summer goes, I must be gone, steal forth with silent drums, That you may hail anew the bird and rose When I come back to you, as summer comes. Else will you seek, at some not distant time, Even your summer in another clime.

  Edna St. Vincent Millay

  Summer, Wise, Sweet

  Edna St. Vincent Millay (2014). “Millay: Poems”, p.170, Everyman's Library

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• As Daenerys Targaryen rose to her feet, her black hissed, pale smoke venting from its mouth and nostrils. The other two pulled away from her breasts and added their voices to the call, translucent wings unfolding and stirring the air, and for the first time in hundreds of years, the night came alive with the music of dragons.

  George R. R. Martin

  Night, Air, Dragons

  George R. R. Martin (2003). “A Game of Thrones: A Song of Ice and Fire: Book One”, p.816, Bantam

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• The main thing is to write for the joy of it. Cultivate a work-lust that imagines its haven like your hands at night dreaming the sun in the sunspot of a breast. You are fasted now, light-headed, dangerous. Take off from here.

  Seamus Heaney

  Dream, Writing, Night

  Seamus Heaney (2014). “Station Island”, p.93, Macmillan

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• My young men shall never work, men who work cannot dream; and wisdom comes to us in dreams. You ask me to plow the ground. Shall I take a knife and tear my mothers breast? Then when I die she will not take me to her bosom to rest. You ask me to dig for stone. Shall I dig under her skin for her bones? Then when I die I cannot enter her body to be born again. You ask me to cut grass and make hay and sell it and be rich like white men. But how dare I cut off my mother's hair.

  Smohalla

  Dream, Mother, Native American

  "Wisdom of the North American Indian in speech and legend". Book by Alexander Francis Chamberlain, 1913.

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• If solid happiness we prize, Within our breast this jewel lies, And they are fools who roam. The world has nothing to bestow From our own selves our joys must flow, And that dear hut, our home.

  Nathaniel Cotton

  Happiness, Lying, Home

  Nathaniel Cotton (1800). “Poems by Nathaniel Cotton: With the Author's Life”, p.83

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• I was diagnosed with breast cancer in 2004.

  Laura Ziskin

  Cancer, Breast Cancer

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• I have had a number of patients with breast cancer, all of whom had root canals on the tooth related to the breast area on the associated energy meridian.

  John Diamond

  Cancer, Roots, Numbers

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• Farmers are philosophical. They have learned that it is less wearing to shrug than to beat their breasts.

  Ruth Stout

  Philosophical, Farming, Beats

  Ruth Stout (1987). “How to Have a Green Thumb Without an Aching Back: A New Method of Mulch Gardening”, Fireside

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• Apathy is the same as war, it all kills you, she says. Slow like cancer in the breast or fast like a machete in the neck.

  Warsan Shire

  War, Cancer, Apathy

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• The stage is life, music, beautiful girls, legs, breasts, not talk or intellectualism or dried-up academics.

  Harold Clurman

  Beautiful, Girl, Legs

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