Moist Critikal Quotes

#1. Have you not a moist eye, a dry hand, a yellow cheek, a white beard, a decreasing leg, an increasing belly? Is not your voice broken, your wind short, your chin double, your wit single, and every part about you blasted with antiquity? #Quote by William Shakespeare

#2. And that is just the point ... how the world, moist and beautiful, calls to each of us to make a new and serious response. That's the big question, the one the world throws at you every morning. Here you are, alive. Would you like to make a comment? #Quote by Mary Oliver

#3. We were locked onto each other as though we had just discovered this incredible thing you could do with two mouths pressing close and moist against each other. And the taste of him ... Horrifyingly, unbearably sweet
sweet in the way crack must feel hitting the bloodstream of an addict after years of staying clean. #Quote by Josh Lanyon

#4. Mom and Dad were killed in a car accident on their way home from the tournament." Mr. Terupt's eyes were moist, but he kept going. "Fortunately, I was headed to college, which was the best place for me. Wrestling saved my life. The challenge it provided kept me going when I could have easily given up. I have no brothers or sisters, or any other extended family, so I was alone after my parents died. You saw that last year at the hospital. But now I have all of you. Sometimes answers come at unexpected times, in unexpected ways and unexpected places. I never #Quote by Rob Buyea

#5. It looked like a colour, but also ... like a bruise or a secretion, like an oozing-and something else, an odour, for example, it melted into the odour of wet earth, warm, moist wood, into a black odour that spread like varnish over this sensitive wood, in a flavour of chewed, sweet fibre. I did not simply see this black: sight is an abstract invention, a simplified idea, one of man's ideas. That black, amorphous, weakly presence, far surpassed sight, smell and taste. But this richness was lost in confusion and finally was no more because it was too much. #Quote by Jean-Paul Sartre

#6. In the Greek way of dealing with alchemy, which was earth, air, fire and water, these were the objective qualities. Within the objective qualities - things of earth, air, fire and water - are our subjective experiences of hot, cold, dry, and moist. #Quote by Fred Alan Wolf

#7. What kind of understanding?" he murmured almost absently, his mind clearly on other, more provocative things.
The trace of amusement in his voice irritated her, as if he were merely humoring her. Savannah pushed at the solid wall of his chest to put a few inches between them. His large frame didn't budge, and she was locked in by his arm. She pushed at him again. "Forget it."
He bent his head to taste the vulnerable line of her neck, to feel her pulse in the warm, moist cavern of his mouth. His blood surged and pounded. Little jackhammers began to beat at his skull. "I am listening to every word you say, ma petite," he murmured, lost in her softness, in the scent of her. He wanted her with every fiber of his being, every cell in his body. "I could repeat each word verbatim, if you desire. #Quote by Christine Feehan

#8. I am amazed how little women cry nowadays, and then apologetically. I worry when shame or disuse begins to steal away such a natural function. To be a flowering tree and to be moist is essential, otherwise you will break. Crying is good, it is right. It does not cure dilemma, but it enables the process to continue instead of collapsing. #Quote by Clarissa Pinkola Estes

#9. Sergeant Major Reinhold von Rumpel is forty-one years old, not so old that he cannot be promoted. He has moist red lips; pale, almost translucent cheeks like fillets of raw sole; and an instinct for correctness that rarely fails him. He has a wife who suffers his absences without complaint, and who arranges porcelain kittens by color, lightest to darkest, on two different shelves in their drawing room in Stuttgart. He also has two daughters whom he has not seen in nine months. The eldest, Veronika, is deeply earnest. Her letters to him include phrases like sacred resolve, proud accomplishments, and unparalleled in history. #Quote by Anthony Doerr

#10. There was a steady drizzle when they left for the tower. Moist drove the cart, with the others sitting on the load behind him and bickering over trigonometry. Moist tried not to listen; he got lost when maths started to get silly. #Quote by Terry Pratchett

#11. Tell me everything it explains, he said when he could remember how to speak. Being forced to move moist flaps of meat in order to form the words felt sensual and obscene. #Quote by James S.A. Corey

#12. I have always been homosexual and it surprises me that more people are not; women's pink bits are moist and forbidding and I enjoy those qualities much more in a Victoria sponge. #Quote by Robert Clark

#13. The past twelve weeks had been a blur, and now she was about to meet her baby via ultrasound, go home with a picture of an alien baby that people would pretend was beautiful, and here she sat after drinking a liter of fluid, her panties moist from a bladder that gave up control right around the time her shoes stopped fitting. A light breeze could make her pee at this point. A sneeze would unleash a tsunami. #Quote by Julia Kent

#14. Unlike the summer sun,
my life has started to fade
Forsaken by the memories of thee,
which once shone like the jade.
My eyes elude the moist fear,
and are now as dry as hay
Melancholy cries are all I hear,
'Will you be there?' I daresay! #Quote by Supriya Kaur Dhaliwal

#15. Goals are for losers. Your mind isn't magic. It's a moist computer you can program. The most important metric to track is your personal energy. Every skill you acquire doubles your odds of success. Happiness is health plus freedom. Luck can be managed, sort of. Conquer shyness by being a huge phony (in a good way). Fitness is the lever that moves the world. Simplicity transforms ordinary into amazing. #Quote by Scott Adams

#16. Jesus of Nazareth is so entirely one of them they can hardly find anything special about him at all. He fits right in with the messy busyness of everyday life.

And it is here, in their midst, with their routines of fish and wine and bread, that he proclaims the kingdom of heaven.

The gospel, Jesus teaches, is in the yeast, as a woman kneads it with her bare hands into the cool, pungent dough. It is in the soil, so warm and moist when freshly turned by muscular arms and backs. It is in the tiny seeds of mustard and wheat, painstakingly saved and dried from last season's harvest...

Jesus placed the gospel in these tactile things, with all the grit of life surrounding him, because it is through all this touching, tasting, and smelling that his own sheep- his beloved, hardworking, human flock- know. And it is through these most mundane, touchable, smellable, tasteable pieces of commonplace existence that he shows them, and us, to find God and know him.

Jesus delivered the good news in a rough, messy, hands-on package of donkeys and dusty roads, bleeding women and lepers, water from the well, and wine from the water. Holy work in the world has always been like this: messy, earthy, physical, touchable. #Quote by Catherine McNiel

#17. Her eyes opened then. They were drowsy, slumberous, staring up at him with a hunger that was impossible to miss. "I felt you," she whispered, a smile tilting her moist lips. "Watching me. Should I feel you watching me?" Was she asleep or awake? "Of course." He found the growl building in his throat. "Every time I look at you, baby, I touch you. #Quote by Lora Leigh

#18. Why do we see no change? Because just as many molecules are leaving as are coming back! In the long run "nothing happens." If we then take the top of the vessel off and blow the moist air away, replacing it with dry air, then the number of molecules leaving is just the same as it was before, because this depends on the jiggling of the water, but the number coming back is greatly reduced because there are so many fewer water molecules above the water. Therefore #Quote by Richard Feynman

#19. Me: "Touch the cave wall."
Computer: "You touch the cave wall. It is moist."
Isaac: "Lick the cave wall."
Computer: "I do not understand. Repeat?"
Me: "Hump the moist cave wall."
Computer: "You attempt to jump. You hit your head."
Isaac: "Not jump. HUMP."
Computer: "I don't understand."
Isaac: "Dude, I've been alone in the dark in this cave for weeks and I need some relief. HUMP THE CAVE WALL."
Computer: "You attempt to ju-"
Me: "Thrust pelvis against the cave wall."
Computer: "I do not-"
Isaac: "Make sweet love to the cave."
Computer: "I do not- #Quote by John Green

#20. Moist groaned. It was the crack of seven and he was allergic to the concept of two seven o'clocks in one day. #Quote by Terry Pratchett

#21. Life goes on. It doesn't go on. Yes, yes, I know, all we want in the end, we living, breathing creatures (am I still one of them?) is life. All we want to believe in is the persistence and vitality of life. Faced with the choice between death and the merest hint of life, what scrap, what token wouldn't we cling to in order to keep that belief? A leaf? A single moist, green leaf? That will do, that will be enough. #Quote by Graham Swift

#22. I only know that I can't live without flight. Without sky and moist, breathing earth. #Quote by Sophie Jordan

#23. He made a noise like an owl. Since Moist was no ornithologist, he did this by saying woo woo. #Quote by Terry Pratchett

#24. The proper way to eat a fig, in society,
Is to split it in four, holding it by the stump,
And open it, so that it is a glittering, rosy, moist, honied, heavy-petalled four-petalled flower. #Quote by D.H. Lawrence

#25. Making money is good, but there's no pockets in a shroud. #Quote by Terry Pratchett

#26. A banker? Me?"
"Yes, Mr. Lipwig."
"But I don't know anything about running a bank!"
"Good. No preconceived ideas."
"I've robbed banks!"
"Capital! Just reverse your thinking," said Lord Vetinari, beaming. "The money should be on the inside. #Quote by Terry Pratchett

#27. You saved my life," I mutter. "I ... I don't know what to say?" I swallow hard. "How can I thank you?"

"No thank-you necessary," he says.

I search his moist eyes, and wipe away tears from mine. "I will always be indebted to you."

"Better plan," he says. "How about you just save my life someday, then we'll be even?"

"I will," I say, smiling through tears. "I will. #Quote by Sarah Jio

#28. In this way, as it seems to me, he said: "One might make the same
argument about harmony, lyre and strings, that a harmony is something
invisible, without body, beautiful and divine in the attuned lyre, whereas
the lyre itself and its strings are physical, bodily, composite, earthy and
akin to what is mortal. Then if someone breaks the lyre, cuts or breaks
the strings and then insists, using the same argument as you, that the
harmony must still exist and is not destroyed because it would be impossi-
ble for the lyre and the strings, which are mortal, still to exist when the
strings are broken, and for the harmony, which is akin and of the same
nature as the divine and immortal, to be destroyed before that which is
mortal; he would say that the harmony itself still must exist and that the
wood and the strings must rot before the harmony can suffer. And indeed
Socrates, I think you must have this in mind, that we really do suppose
the soul to be something of this kind; as the body is stretched and held
together by the hot and the cold, the dry and the moist and other such
things, and OUR soul is a mixture and harmony of those things when they
are mixed with each other rightly and in due measure. #Quote by Plato

#29. Her half-closed eyes were moist and tremulous and languid with desire. I began to drink love from them with thirsty kisses; which revived her spirits a litle. #Quote by Apuleius

#30. She's an excellent presenter and would have succeeded in advertising, is what I think. She generates a sense of excitement in the room and I become aware that my hands are moist with sweat, but not from fear. From needing to know what happened next. I like the drama. I glance around the room and other people look rapt as well. And I feel like, That's the reason to go to a gay rehab. People appreciate the drama. #Quote by Augusten Burroughs

#31. Give me my robe, put on my crown; I have
Immortal longings in me: now no more
The juice of Egypt's grape shall moist this lip:
Yare, yare, good Iras; quick. Methinks I hear
Antony call; I see him rouse himself
To praise my noble act; I hear him mock
The luck of Caesar, which the gods give men
To excuse their after wrath: husband, I come:
Now to that name my courage prove my title!
I am fire and air; my other elements
I give to baser life. So; have you done?
Come then, and take the last warmth of my lips.
Farewell, kind Charmian; Iras, long farewell.

Kisses them. IRAS falls and dies

Have I the aspic in my lips? Dost fall?
If thou and nature can so gently part,
The stroke of death is as a lover's pinch,
Which hurts, and is desired. Dost thou lie still?
If thus thou vanishest, thou tell'st the world
It is not worth leave-taking. #Quote by William Shakespeare

#32. My classes commenced on the seventh of September, a tall blue day as crisp as the white starched blouses of the coeds who filed into my classroom and nervously took their seats. Standing behind the lectern at eight o'clock sharp, suit fresh-pressed and chin scraped clean, I felt my nostrils flare like a stud's at the nubby tight sex of them, flustered and pink-scrubbed, giggling and moist; my tighs flexed, and I yawned ferociously. #Quote by John Barth

#33. Out in the sky, no one sleeps. No one, no one.
No one sleeps.
In a graveyard far off there is a corpse
who has moaned for three years
because of an arid landscape in his knee;
and that boy they buried this morning cried so much
it was necessary to call out the dogs to keep him quiet.
Life is not a dream. Careful! Careful! Careful!
We fall down the stairs in order to eat the moist earth
or we climb to the snow's edge with the voices of dead dahlias.
But there is no oblivion; no dream:
only flesh exists. Kisses tie our mouths
in a tangle of new veins,
and those who hurt will hurt without rest
and those who are afraid of death will carry it on their shoulders. #Quote by Federico Garcia Lorca

#34. Orioles kept making their clear three-note calls, stopping each time just long enough to let the countryside suck in the moist fluting sounds down to the last vibration. #Quote by Boris Pasternak

#35. He sat. The white cat still contemplated him with large, moist eyes. #Quote by Richard Wright

#36. It was one of those things they keep in a jar in the tent of a sideshow on the outskirts of a little, drowsy town. One of those pale things drifting in alcohol plasma, forever dreaming and circling, with its peeled, dead eyes staring out at you and never seeing you. It went with the noiselessness of late night, and only the crickets chirping, the frogs sobbing off in the moist swampland. One of those things in a big jar that makes your stomach jump as it does when you see a preserved arm in a laboratory vat. #Quote by Ray Bradbury