Quotes on Breaths

What childishness is it that while there's breath of life in our bodies, we are determined to rush to see the sun the other way around?

Most dear actors, eat no onions nor garlic, for we are to utter sweet breath.

Her virtues, graced with external gifts, Do breed love's settled passions in my heart; And like as rigour of tempestuous gusts Provokes the mightiest hulk against the tide, So am I driven by breath of her renown Either to suffer shipwreck or arrive Where I may have fruition of her love.

I love thee with the passion put to use_x000D_ _x000D_ In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith. _x000D_ _x000D_ I love thee with a love I seemed to lose_x000D_ _x000D_ With my lost saints,-I love thee with the breath, _x000D_ _x000D_ Smiles, tears, of all my life!-and, if God choose, _x000D_ _x000D_ I shall but love thee better after death.

O, how shall summer's honey breath hold out_x000D_ _x000D_ Against the wreckful siege of battering days,_x000D_ _x000D_ When rocks impregnable are not so stout,_x000D_ _x000D_ Nor gates of steel so strong, but Time decays?

Leaves have their time to fall, And flowers to wither at the north - wind's breath, And stars to set; but all, Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O Death!

In the entire circle of the year there are no days so delightful as those of a fine October, when the trees are bare to the mild heavens, and the red leaves bestrew the road, and you can feel the breath of winter, morning and evening - no days so calm, so tenderly solemn, and with such a reverent meekness in the air.

Take a deep breath, pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and start all over again.

The word Atman (Soul) means the "breath of life". Atman is the principle of man's life, the Soul that pervades his being, his breath, his intellect and transcends them. Atman is what remains when everything that is not the self is eliminated. It is the unborn and immortal element in man, which is not to be confused with body, mind or intellect.

As evolutionary time is measured, we have only just turned up and have hardly had time to catch breath, still marveling at our thumbs, still learning to use the brand-new gift of language. Being so young, we can be excused all sorts of folly and can permit ourselves the hope that someday, as a species, we will begin to grow up.

Where is the delusion when truth is known? Where is the disease when the mind is clear? Where is death when the Breath is controlled? Therefore surrender to Yoga.

Master your breath, let the self be in bliss, contemplate on the sublime within you.

Liberty is the breath of progress.

Trust thou thy Love: if she be proud, is she not sweet?_x000D_ _x000D_ Trust thou thy love: if she be mute, is she not pure?_x000D_ _x000D_ Lay thou thy soul full in her hands, low at her feet-_x000D_ _x000D_ Fail, Sun and Breath!-yet, for thy peace, she shall endure.

Love is not a feeling to pass away_x000D_ _x000D_ Like the balmy breath of a Summer's day......._x000D_ _x000D_ Love is not a passion of earthly mould_x000D_ _x000D_ As a thirst for honour, or fame, or gold

When a person places the proper value on freedom, there is nothing under the sun that he will not do to acquire that freedom. Whenever you hear a man saying he wants freedom, but in the next breath he is going to tell you what he won't do to get it, or what he doesn't believe in doing in order to get it, he doesn't believe in freedom. A man who believes in freedom will do anything under the sun to acquire... or preserve his freedom.

What we don't recognize is that holding onto resentment is like holding onto your breath. You'll soon start to suffocate.

Darkling I listen; and, for many a time I have been half in love with easeful Death, Called him soft names in many a muse' d rhyme, To take into the air my quiet breath; Now more than ever seems it rich to die, To cease upon the midnight with no pain, While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad In such an ecstasy!

You don't want to spend your time around people who make you hold your breath. You can't fill up when you're holding your breath. And writing is about filling up, filling up when you are empty, letting images and ideas and smells run down like water - just as writing is also about dealing with the emptiness.

No one tells you that your life is effectively over when you have a child: that you're never going to draw another complacent breath again... or that whatever level of hypochondria and rage you'd learned to repress and live with is going to seem like the good old days.

One moment I'm perfectly fine and the next I feel a wave of nausea, then panic. Then I can't catch my breath and I know I'm about to lose control and all I want to do is escape. Except that the one thing I can't escape from is the very thing I want to run away from... me.