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Breaths Quotes

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Breaths Quotes

“Yoga is an ancient discipline in which physical postures, breath practice, meditation, and philosophical study are tools for achieving liberation. In my interpretation, achieving liberation in yoga means learning how to be present with everything that arises, whether it is pain or pleasure, sadness or joy, failure or success. And to be present with whatever arises, I believe we must not only be aware of what is arising but we must also be able to see all things that arise as equal, with detachment.”

Source: Moving Toward Balance: 8 Weeks of Yoga with Rodney Yee

“On a trip to Germany, Lange and his entourage were climbing the tower of an ancient castle when they stopped to catch their breath. "How old is this ruin?" someone asked a guide. "Forty-two years," said Lange.”

Years Said Two Breaths Ancient Guides Ruins Germany Forty Two Years Climbing Towers Castles Entourage

Author:David Lange

“How sweet the harmonies of the afternoon! The Blackbird sings along the sunny breeze His ancient song of leaves, and summer boon; Rich breath of hayfields streams thro' whispering trees; And birds of morning trim their bustling wings, And listen fondly--while the Blackbird sings.”

Song Morning Rich Tree Sweet Summer Bird Harmony Breaths Wings Ancient Streams Afternoon Breeze Sunny Whispering Boon Blackbirds

Book:Days and Hours

Source: Days and Hours

“Huge knots of sea-weed hung upon the jagged and pointed stones, trembling in every breath of wind; and the green ivy clung mournfully round the dark and ruined battlements. Behind it rose the ancient castle, its towers roofless, and its massive walls crumbling away, but telling us proudly of its own might and strength, as when, seven hundred years ago, it rang with the clash of arms, or resounded with the noise of feasting and revelry.”

Source: Charles Dickens: The Complete Christmas Novels & Tales (Illustrated): 30 Classics in One Volume: A Christmas Carol, The Battle of Life, The Chimes, Oliver Twist, Tom Tiddler's Ground, The Holly-Tree, Doctor Marigold, The Pickwick Papers, Great Expectations and more

“How ignorant we are! How ignorant everyone is! We can cut across only a small area of the appallingly expanding fields of knowledge. No human being can know more than a tiny fraction of the whole. It must have been satisfactory in ancient times when one's own land seemed to be the universe; when research studies, pamphlets, books did not issue in endless flow; when laboratories and scientists were not so rapidly pushing back frontiers of knowledge that the process of unlearning the old left you gasping for breath.”

“There are ancient and modern poems which breathe, in their entirety and in every detail, the divine breath of irony. In such poemsthere lives a real transcendental buffoonery. Their interior is permeated by the mood which surveys everything and rises infinitely above everything limited, even above the poet's own art, virtue, and genius; and their exterior form by the histrionic style of an ordinary good Italian buffo.”

“O ye by wandering tempest sown 'Neath every alien star, Forget not whence the breath was blown That wafted you afar! For ye are still her ancient seed On younger soil let fall— Children of Britain's island-breed, To whom the Mother in her need Perchance may one day call.”

Needs May Children Stills Mother Fall Stars Forget One Day Breaths Ancient Seeds Wander Aliens Islands Soil Britain Tempest Afar

Author:William Watson

“Late have I loved you, O beauty ever ancient, ever new. Late have I loved you. You have called to me, and have called out, and have shattered my deafness. You have blazed forth with light and have put my blindness to flight! You have sent forth fragrance, and I have drawn in my breath, and I pant after you. I have tasted you, and I hunger and thirst after you. You have touched me, and I have burned for your peace.”

Light Late Breaths Ancient Hunger Flight Touched Burned Thirst Blindness Fragrance Shattered I Loved You Deafness Hunger And Thirst

Author:Saint Augustine

“Goose pimples rose all over me, my hair stood on end, my eyes filled with tears of love and gratitude for this greatest of all conquerors of human misery and shame, and my breath came in little gasps. If I had not known that the Leader would have scorned such adulation, I might have fallen to my knees in unashamed worship, but instead I drew myself to attention, raised my arm in the eternal salute of the ancient Roman Legions and repeated the holy words, "Heil Hitler!"”

“The Saint whose water can light lamps, the clairvoyant whose lapse in recall is the breath of God, the true paranoid for whom all is organized in spheres joyful or threatening about the central pulse of himself, the dreamer whose puns probe ancient fetid shafts and tunnels of truth all act in the same special relevance to the word, or whatever it is the word is there, buffering, to protect us from. The act of metaphor than was a thrust at truth and a lie, depending where you were: inside, safe or outside, lost.”

“My name is Eva, which means 'life,' according to a book of names my mother consulted. I was born in the back room of a shadowy house, and grew up amidst ancient furniture, books in Latin, and human mummies, but none of those things made me melancholy, because I came into the world with a breath of the jungle in my memory.”

World Humans Mean Made Book Mother House Names Born Memories Rooms Grew Grew Up Breaths Ancient Melancholy Latin Furniture Jungle Meaning Life Mummy

Book:Eva Luna

Source: Eva Luna

“Since i couldn't remember the "real" first time i'd lost my virginity, this would have become my de facto first time. I wanted a better story then: I did it with this boy who i wasn't very into and who had mysterious Gaterade breath; in his room decorated with sports equipment; at least he was nice enough to provide condoms and get his ancient, horny dog to leave us along.”

Firsts Real Enough Stories Wanted Remember Lost Sports Rooms Boys Nice Dog First Time Breaths Ancient Mysterious Equipment Virginity Horny Condom

Author:Gabrielle Zevin

“My wife, my Mary, goes to her sleep the way you would close the door of a closet. So many times I have watched her with envy. Her lovely body squirms a moment as though she fitted herself into a cocoon. She sighs once and at the end of it her eyes close and her lips, untroubled, fall into that wise and remote smile of the Ancient Greek gods. She smiles all night in her sleep, her breath purrs in her throat, not a snore, a kitten's purr... She loves to sleep and sleep welcomes her.”

Source: The Winter of our Discontent