Sweats Quotes

#1. That looks cozy," I said in a timid voice.
He turned at the sound and-taking in my appearance-immediately spit hot chocolate all over.
"What?" I demanded.
With an obvious effort to compose himself, he forced his lips into a frown and wiped his chin with the back of his hand. "Breathtaking."
I raised an eyebrow,and his lips started to quiver, and then there was no stopping him. The laughter came in waves.
"Well,that's not exactly the reaction I was going for," I said.
"Isn't it?" he said, gasping for breath.
I put my hand on my hip and tapped my foot as he inhaled deeply and rubbed his eyes with the palm of his hand. "Finished?" I asked.
He shook his head. "I love you."
"I'm sorry?"
"You heard me." He stood and walked toward me.
I glanced down at my sweats,and then back at his face. "Did you not notice my getup?"
He halved the distance between us. "Oh yeah. I noticed," he said,like it was the sexiest thing he'd ever seen. His lips curled up into a smile.
"Okay,so that's not the reaction I was going for either," I said,taking a small step backward as he closed the gap between us.
He grabbed my hands in his and his grin disappeared. "Becks.I think I know what you're worried about,but I meant what I said.I love you. And I would never push you."
My entire body turned red. "But don't you mythological higher beings-" I tried to remember how Jules had put it-"need...the...um..."
Jack looked confused,and t #Quote by Brodi Ashton

#2. One of her in dirty sweats is worth ten of you naked on your knees, so get the fuck out. #Quote by Joanna Wylde

#3. This love, this mortal love, is of their own making," Hermes muses, "the thing we did not intend, foresee or sanction. How then should it not fascinate us? ... It is as if a fractious child had been handed a few timber shavings and a bucket of mud to keep him quiet only for him promptly to erect a cathedral ... Within the precincts of this consecrated house they afford each other sanctuary, excuse each other their failings, their sweats and smells, their lies and subterfuges, above all their ineradicable self-obsession. This is what baffles us, how they wriggled out of our grasp and somehow became free to forgive each other for all that they are not. #Quote by John Banville

#4. The clock sweats out each minute
of what meat is left to us. #Quote by Joseph Bathanti

#5. When Eternity dreams of Death, each Moment sweats Bullets. #Quote by Bishop Harber

#6. Real love is gritty. It sweats and waits, it causes you to hold your tongue when you want to scream obscenities in anger, and it causes many men to accomplish extraordinary feats. #Quote by Meg Meeker

#7. Marlboro Man was out of town, on a trip to the southern part of the state, looking at farm ground, the night I began conceiving of the best way to arrange the reception menu. I was splayed on my bed in sweats, staring at the ceiling, when suddenly I gave birth to The Idea: one area of the country club would be filled with gold bamboo chairs, architecturally arranged orchids and roses, and antique lace table linens. Violins would serenade the guests as they feasted on cold tenderloin and sipped champagne. Martha Stewart would be present in spirit and declare, "This is my daughter, whom I love. In her I am well pleased."
Martha's third cousin Mabel would prefer the ballroom on the other end of the club, however, which would be the scene of an authentic chuck wagon spread: barbecue, biscuits and gravy, fried chicken, Coors Light. Blue-checkered tablecloths would adorn the picnic tables, a country band would play "All My Exes Live in Texas," and wildflowers would fill pewter jugs throughout the room.
I smiled, imagining the fun. In one fell swoop, our two worlds--Marlboro Man's country and my country club--would collide, combine, and unite in a huge, harmonious feast, one that would officially usher in my permanent departure from city life, cappuccino, and size 6 clothes. #Quote by Ree Drummond

#8. Every stone here sweats with suffering, I know that. I have never looked at them without a feeling of anguish. But deep in my heart I know that the most wretched among you have seen a divine face emerge from their darkness. That is the face you are asked to see. #Quote by Albert Camus

#9. I love to cook and really enjoy cleaning my house. People always tease me about getting a maid. My girlfriend tells me that they are only $40 and will do everything. But that is my time to unwind, put my hair in a ponytail, throw on sweats, and be myself. #Quote by Amy Weber

#10. In high school I spent most of my time in jeans and T-shirts or Juicy sweats. We're such a laid-back town. I mean, people wore bikinis under their clothes half the time, so you didn't really get dressed up to go to school. #Quote by Lauren Conrad

#11. My little sister Kylie puts an amazing outfit together every day, and it just works for her. For me, it's more like jeans, boots, maybe a jacket. Sometimes I get caught in my sweats. #Quote by Kendall Jenner

#12. Mark it. No challenges, no success! #Quote by Israelmore Ayivor

#13. Even in the wicked, disgusting sweats he put on every day after work, he looked like a movie star. It isn't the kind of stuff a kid normally says about his dad, but it was true; there was just something about him, a weird kind of confidence that made everyone turn around and look. #Quote by A.M. Homes

#14. He who sweats now will not be among those sweating tomorrow. #Quote by Matshona Dhliwayo

#15. Two men enter the room, one old and mustached and the other young and tawny-headed, wearing sweats and a worn T-shirt. He looks like Silas, actually - god, what am I, obsessed? But there really is something of the woodsman in the younger man's face, with his full lips, his slightly curled hair that turns like tendrils around his ears . . . I look away before studying him too closely.
"All right, ladies, are we ready?" the older man says enthusiastically. There's a loud rustling of paper as well flip the enormous sketchbooks on our easels until we find blank sheets. I draw a few soft lines on my page, unsure what -
Non-Silas rips off his T-shirt, revealing lightly defined muscles on his pale chest. I raise an eyebrow just as he tugs at the waist of the sweatpants. They drop to the floor in a fluid, sweeping motion.
There's nothing underneath them. At all.
My charcoal slips through my suddenly sweaty fingers.
Non-Silas steps out of the puddle of his clothes and moves to the center of the room, fluorescent lights reflecting off his slick abdomen. He's smiling as though he isn't naked, smiling as though I didn't somehow manage to get the seat closest to him. As if I can't see . . . um . . . everything only a few feet from my face, making my mind clumsily spiral. I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment; he looks like Silas in the face, and because of that I keep wondering if he looks akin to Silas everywhere else.
"All right, ladies, this will be a seve #Quote by Jackson Pearce

#16. I often thought grief was like madness - the lack of control, the overwhelming waves of emotion with unexpected triggers, breathlessness, night sweats, nightmares, and the feeling of utter aloneness, like that of standing on a ledge in a violent wind. #Quote by Erika Robuck

#17. I'm a sweats and UGGs girl. Very casual. #Quote by Jennifer Aniston

#18. He seems like a good guy but you need to find a guy who calls you beautiful instead of hot and who calls you back when you hang up on him, who will stay awake just to watch you sleep. Who wants to show off how pretty you look even in sweats...Who thinks you're just as pretty without make-up and reminds you how lucky he is to have you. The one that says 'that's her. #Quote by Sophie Monroe

#19. God help me, how Tolstoy sweats over drying up people's sources of life, of wild and joyful life, drying them up and making the world fat with the love of God and everyman ... But the man is old, after all, his fountains of life run dry, without a trace remaining of human affections ... Only someone who has become slow and watertight with old age, satiated and hardened with pleasure, will go to youth and say, Renounce! ... And yet the youth renounces nothing, but sins royally for forty years. Such is the course of nature! #Quote by Knut Hamsun

#20. Why is it every other person you meet says they're an artist? A real artist doesn't need to gas on about it, he doesn't have time. He does his work and sweats it out in silence, and no one can help him at all. #Quote by Paula McLain

#21. True blessing comes in the dress of sweats, never delaying to wave bye to the excuses and procrastination. True blessing lies in hard work! #Quote by Israelmore Ayivor

#22. The snow was knee-deep, my leg hurt, and my sweats were soaked, but I was hopped up on painkillers and a huge dose of pissed off, so I didn't care. #Quote by Barbra Annino

#23. I have a wife and child, and I guess that would constitute a family, and sometimes I watch shows where the people aren't related. And I don't get nervous, get the sweats, and have to run out of the room. I mean, I can handle it. #Quote by Andy Richter

#24. I like a hairy chest, I think that's really sexy. I'm not naked a lot oddly enough but I usually wear sweats, its very unsexy. #Quote by Brooklyn Decker

#25. Gemma talking to Charley ...
"Got it. Have you seen my pants?"
"Speaking of which, how did you get home without them?"
"I borrowed a pair of you sweats. I ran into a convenience store with them on. I talked to neighbors out in their yard when I pulled up. And only after I got inside did I realize the had 'Exit Only' written across the back."
"You stole my favorite sweats?"
"I wanted to die."
"It's weird that sweats would make you suicidal. I'd analyze the crap out of that if I were you."
"Do you actually wear those in public?"
"Only when I go out in them #Quote by Darynda Jones

#26. I just want to be in my sweats, walk my dog, watch TV and eat pizza. #Quote by America Ferrera

#27. God was still smiling when he went into the guest room for his suitcase. He looked in the closet and under the perfectly made bed. He even pulled out the drawers of the one armoire on the far side of the room, but couldn't find it. He was about to go back downstairs and ask Day when he turned down the long hall and walked into Day's master bedroom. His suitcase was tucked neatly in the corner. He pulled it out but immediately knew it was empty. He looked in the first dresser but those were Day's clothes. The second identical dresser was on the other side and God did a double take at his few toiletries that were neatly aligned on top. God rubbed his hand on the smooth surface and felt his heart clench at how domestic this looked.

His and his dressers…really.

God yanked off his T-shirt and threw it in the hamper along with Day's items. He washed up quickly and went back to his dresser to put on a clean shirt. His mouth dropped when he pulled out the dresser drawer. His shirts were neatly folded and placed in an organized arrangement. God went through all five drawers. His underwear, socks, shirts, sweats, all arranged neatly and in its own place.
He dropped down on the bed and thought for a minute. At first he was joking, but Day really was domesticating him. Was God ready for that? Sure he loved Day, he'd take a bullet for him, but was he ready to play house? He pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and middle finger at the slight tension for #Quote by A.E. Via

#28. But remember, my reader, whom I hope to have travel far with me through time and space remember, please, my reader, that I have thought much on these matters that through bloody nights and sweats of dark that lasted years long I have been alone with my many selves to consult and contemplate my many selves. #Quote by Jack London

#29. I'm an athlete, so I can dress down with the best of them. I can throw on t-shirts and sweats with the best of them. #Quote by Dwyane Wade

#30. I was surprised to learn that there was yet another type of tired. On Seram we'd had physical tired. The type of tired when a thousand muscles are screaming at you to quit walking, sweat's running off you, and only the energy you manage to generate from gritting your teeth helps you take the next step. That type of tired can keep the emotional tired safely at bay-the tired when sadness is a physical weight, a thick smothering, aching thing. That was the dangerous type of tired we couldn't afford on Seram. That's the type of tired that makes you want to sit still and listen to despair. #Quote by Lisa McKay

#31. There she was, bundled into sweats and a long wool coat five sizes too large for her, her curls hidden by a massive gray hat with earflaps-a look that could have been pulled off effectively only by someone in 1930s Siberia...or a supremely angular male model. #Quote by Hilary Duff

#32. I jolt out of sleep and cold sweats creep on as they always do. Waking from one nightmare only to be haunted by the memory of you. #Quote by Liz Newman

#33. I AM ROWING (a hex poem)

i have cursed your forehead, your belly, your life
i have cursed the streets your steps plod through
the things your hands touch
i have cursed the inside of your dreams

i have placed a puddle in your eye so that you cant see anymore
an insect in your ear so that you cant hear anymore
a sponge in your brain so that you cant understand
anymore

i have frozen you in the soul of your body
iced you in the depths of your life
the air you breathe suffocates you
the air you breathe has the air of a cellar
is an air that has already been exhaled
been puffed out by hyenas

the dung of this air is something no one can breathe
your skin is damp all over
your skin sweats out waters of great fear
your armpits reak far and wide of the crypt

animals drop dead as you pass
dogs howl at night their heads raised toward your house
you cant run away
you cant muster the strength of an ant to the tip of your feet

your fatigue makes a lead stump in your body
your fatigue is a long caravan
your fatigue stretches out to the country of nan
your fatigue is inexpressible

your mouth bites you
your nails scratch you
no longer yours, your wife
no longer yours, your brother
the sole of his foot bitten by an angry snake

someone has slobbered on your descendents
someone has droo #Quote by Henri Michaux

#34. They were "galvanized iron bake ovens," said Carl LaRue, commenting on Fordlandia's foibles years later. "It is incredible that anyone should build a house like that in the tropics." Another visitor described them as "midget hells, where one lies awake and sweats the first half of the night, and frequently between midnight and dawn undergoes a fierce siege of heat-provoking nightmares." They seemed to be "designed by Detroit architects who probably couldn't envision a land without snow."19 Ford managers, said the priest, "never really #Quote by Greg Grandin

#35. I am all about comfort and whatever comes along with comfort. I wear a lot of sweats. But I'm also very preppy naturally. #Quote by Yara Shahidi

#36. You just don't want to go to the barn in sweats with Elle there.
Well, he hated to admit it, but that was probably the reason he was tottering back and forth on one foot and two sore armpits here in this insane closet that seemed about the same size as the house he and his dad used to live in. #Quote by Genell Dellin

#37. Always wear a good watch, no matter what if you are wearing a suit or sweats. A good watch will hold value over time. It's not about the brightest or the biggest diamonds, it's about quality mechanisms, the heritage of the company you're buying it from. #Quote by Trey Songz

#38. Although I am cursed by dreams, I still cannot stop myself sleeping. I drop into darkness every night and dream that Richard has come to me, laughing. He tells me that the battle went his way and we are to be married. He holds my hands as I protest that they came and told me that Henry had won, and he kisses me and calls me a fool, a little darling fool. I wake believing it to be true, and feel a sudden sick realization when I look at the walls of the second-best bedroom, and Cecily sharing my bed, and remember that my love lies dead and cold in an unmarked grave, while his country sweats in the heat. My #Quote by Philippa Gregory

#39. I approach each project with a new insecurity, almost like the first project I ever did, and I get the sweats, I go in and start working, I'm not sure where I'm going. #Quote by Frank Gehry

#40. I was getting hot flashes and sweats on a regular basis. That's not normal, even for my age. #Quote by Kareem Abdul-Jabbar

#41. The rich, being people too, doing all they could to cope with the night sweats and zombie terrors of making fourteen hundred times as much money as the people working for them, made #Quote by Kim Stanley Robinson

#42. I was an I, an opera of feeling with a very small audience, a writer of articles about culture but with no real voice, living in a tiny one-bedroom apartment in the Crown Heights section of Brooklyn, a dream of love growing ever more expansive because it was impossible, especially in the gay bars I sometimes frequented in Manhattan, where AIDS loved everyone up the wrong way, or in a way some people weren't surprised by, particularly by those gay men who were too indifferent to be sad - in any case night sweats were a part of the conversation people weren't having in those bars, in any case, taking your closest friend in because he was shunned by his family was part of the conversation people weren't having, still, there was this to contend with: that friend's shirt collars getting bigger, still, there was this to contend with: his coughing and wheezing in the little room off your bedroom in Brooklyn because TB was catching, your friends didn't want you to catch it, loving a man was catching, your friends didn't want you to get it; his skin was thin as onionskin, there was a lesion, he couldn't control his shit, not to mention the grief in his eyes, you didn't want to catch that; those blue eyes filled with why? Causing one's sphincter to contract, your heart to look away, a child's question you couldn't answer, what happened to our plans, why was the future happening so fast? You didn't want to catch that, nor the bitterness of the sufferer's family after death, nor the fr #Quote by Hilton Als

#43. In short, I am convinced, both by faith and experience, that to maintain one's self on this earth is not a hardship but a pastime, if we will live simply and wisely; as the pursuits of the simpler nations are still the sports of the more artificial. It is not necessary that a man should earn his living by the sweat of his brow, unless he sweats easier than I do. #Quote by Henry David Thoreau

#44. I was splayed on my bed in sweats, staring at the ceiling, when suddenly I gave birth to The Idea: one area of the country club would be filled with gold bamboo chairs, architecturally arranged orchids and roses, and antique lace table linens. Violins would serenade the guests as they feasted on cold tenderloin and sipped champagne. Martha Stewart would be present in spirit and declare, "This is my daughter, whom I love. In her I am well pleased. #Quote by Ree Drummond

#45. Push-ups in his underwear the next morning. Practically right outside of my divider, so I had to lunge over him to head to the bathroom. Later that night, I came home to find him shirtless in those low-slung sweats, going between studying and knocking out pull-ups on the bar he'd screwed into the wall. #Quote by Nicole Williams

#46. It's very important to have the right clothing to exercise in. If you throw on an old T-shirt or sweats, it's not inspiring for your workout. #Quote by Cheryl Tiegs

#47. the habit of bed making is correlated with a sense of greater well-being and higher productivity. Other common broken windows include having a messy car; accumulating piles of laundry or trash; not being able to find important items, like a passport or a phone charger; hanging on to stacks of newspapers, magazines, and catalogs; wearing pajamas or sweats all day; or not shaving or showering #Quote by Gretchen Rubin

#48. I used to wear sweats and a T-shirt to auditions, but my agent would yell at me and tell me I had to look nice and presentable. So I had to drop that habit. #Quote by Kellan Lutz

#49. Maybe I exclude myself from that genre by not getting dressed up often enough, by acting ghetto most of the time, and running around in sweats and Timberlands. #Quote by Michelle Rodriguez

#50. Wearing nothing but sweats and a sheer coat of lip gloss, she wiggle through her frosted window and jumped six feet to freedom, feeling more charged than a Visa card at Christmas time. #Quote by Lisi Harrison

#51. Now, I learned a long time ago how to be quiet on the outside while I'm freaking on the inside. How to turn away like I don't see all the things that need to be seen, just to keep peace. How to lie low and act like I want nothing, expect nothing, and hope for nothing so I don't become more trouble than I'm worth. I'm five months short of eighteen and I know how to be cursed and ignored and left behind, how to swallow a thousand tears and ignore a thousand delibarate cruelties, but it's two in the morning on New Year's Eve and I'm mad and scared and bone tired and really, really sick of acting like I'm grateful to be staying on a hairy, sagging, dog-stained couch in a junky, mildewed trailer with a fat, dangerous, volatile drunk who sweats stale beer and wallows in his own wastewater, and who doesn't think there's one thing wrong with taking his crap life out on his dog, who comes bellying back for forgiveness every single time, no matter how rotten the treatment- #Quote by Laura Wiess

#52. The water shut off, and a second later Daemon came out with the sweats hanging low on his hips, and his skin was dewy, glistening. My eyes were fixated on his stomach and the drops of water running over the dips, disappearing under the band of the sweats. I was still only in a towel.
And I was holding a box of condoms in my hand.
My face was red as a ladybug.
One dark eyebrow went up.
My gaze fell to the box and then went back to him. "Confident, aren't you?"
"I'd like to call it being prepared for any occasion." "Although, I am disappointed they don't have little alien faces on them like everything else."
I choked on my next breath. "What kind of motel sells condoms?"
"My favorite kind of motel?" ... "You've spent this entire time looking at this instead of eating something, haven't you? #Quote by Jennifer L. Armentrout

#53. I love the big, like, basketball sweats ... and I only wear vintage T-shirts to bed, because I like the super-thin ones. #Quote by Brad Goreski

#54. Grief is like your favorite pair of old sweats. You get comfortable in them. So comfortable you don't want to take them off even to shower. They're worn in and fit just right and you never want to let them go, even when they're stained and gross and have holes all in them. #Quote by Caisey Quinn

#55. The sweats teach you that you can't carry grudges, you can't carry hatred in your heart. It'll make you sick, so you have to learn to forgive, #Quote by Chris Hedges

#56. She started shaping the face, using a wire loop to gently carve the slope of the strong forehead and brow, then the nose and the lean angle of the cheekbones. In little time, her fingers were moving on automatic pilot, her mind disengaged and gone into its own flow, her subconscious directly commanding her hands into action.
She didn't know how long she'd been working, but when the hard rap sounded on her apartment door some time later, Tess nearly jumped out of her skin. Sleeping next to her feet on the rug, Harvard woke up with a grunt.
"You expecting someone?" she asked quietly as she got up from her stool.
God, she must have been really zoned out while she was sculpting, because she'd seriously messed up around the mouth area of the piece. The lips were curled back in some kind of snarl, and the teeth . . .
The knock sounded again, followed by a deep voice that went through her like a bolt of electricity.
"Tess? Are you there?"
Dante.
Tess's eyes flew wide, then squeezed into a wince as she did a quick mental inventory of her appearance. Hair flung up into a careless knot on top of her head, braless in her white thermal Henley and faded red sweats that had more than one dried clay smudge on them. Not exactly fit for company.
"Dante?" she asked, stalling for time and just wanting to be sure her ears weren't playing tricks on her. "Is that you?"
"Yeah. Can I come in?"
"Um, sure. Just a sec," she called out, trying to sound c #Quote by Lara Adrian

#57. I hate when a guy brags ... or he sweats. #Quote by Paris Hilton

#58. You have broken my heart
I am a little kid,
I cannot stop crying
I hit my feet to the ground and my hands to my head
Like a fly
I cannot get up from the sticky ground
I cannot talk about you
Because it hurts
I feel the pain inside my bones
I cannot forget you
The reality has become dream and dream has become nightmare
These are my tears
They are not my sweats
I have not pissed on myself
Every drop carries pain and regret
They are all because of you,
You broke my virgin heart and poor soul,
I thought we belonged with each other
We shared dreams and wishes
We shared love and devotion
I did not know they were all lies,
If I knew you were leaving me one day, I would have loved you more than I did
Maybe it would have changed your mind
Because I still love you #Quote by M.F. Moonzajer

#59. The brave man, the real hero, quakes with terror, sweats, feels his very bowels betray him, and in spite of this moves forward to do the act he dreads. And yet I do not think #Quote by Geraldine Brooks

#60. Now with tabloids and seeing people walking around in sweats pumping gas you're like, 'Okay, they're just like us.' #Quote by Penelope Ann Miller

#61. [Slitscan's audience] is best visualized as a vicious, lazy, profoundly ignorant, perpetually hungry organism craving the warm god-flesh of the anointed. Personally I like to imagine something the size of a baby hippo, the color of a week-old boiled potato, that lives by itself, in the dark, in a double-wide on the outskirts of Topeka. It's covered with eyes and it sweats constantly. The sweat runs into those eyes and makes them sting. It has no mouth, Laney, no genitals, and can only express its mute extremes of murderous rage and infantile desire by changing the channels on a universal remote. Or by voting in presidential elections. #Quote by William Gibson

#62. Girls are better at this sort of labour, often called 'emotional labour', not because there's anything in the meat and matter of our living cells that makes us naturally better but because we're trained for it from birth. Trained to make other people feel good. Trained to serve the coffee, fill in the forms, organise the parties and wipe the table afterwards. Trained to be feisty, if we must, but not strong. To be bubbly, not funny. You must at no stage appear to have a body that functions in a normal human way, that pisses and shits and sweats and farts and falters. Decorate the prison of your body. Make yourself useful. Shut up and smile. #Quote by Laurie Penny

#63. I love my jeans and my sweats-I'm really just a tomboy at heart. So it's really hard for me to be like Kim Kardashian and be makeup-and hair-ready every time I go out of my house. I'm not a believer in that, you know? On the other hand, when you do wear those sweats, you're like, Oh God, I should step it up a notch. #Quote by Britney Spears

#64. I was just terrified in front of the camera. I couldn't even say my own name. I walked out of a handful of auditions. I mean, ran out in cold sweats. I was just so nervous and insecure. #Quote by Trevor Donovan

#65. He felt the stress and strain of life, its fevers and sweats and wild insurgences - surely this was the stuff to write about! He wanted to glorify the leaders of forlorn hopes, the mad lovers, the giants that fought under stress and strain, amid terror and tragedy, making life crackle with the strength of their endeavor. And #Quote by Jack London

#66. A champion is someone who sweats to exhaustion, even when no one else is watching #Quote by Bas Rutten

#67. I don't care if she's wearing sweats or jeans or a dress," Chris replied, shaking his head. "In fact, in my perfect world, she would be wearing nothing. #Quote by Jody Morse

#68. Mystic

The air is a mill of hooks -
Questions without answer,
Glittering and drunk as flies
Whose kiss stings unbearably
In the fetid wombs of black air under pines in summer.

I remember
The dead smell of sun on wood cabins,
The stiffness of sails, the long salt winding sheets.
Once one has seen God, what is the remedy?
Once one has been seized up

Without a part left over,
Not a toe, not a finger, and used,
Used utterly, in the sun's conflagrations, the stains
That lengthen from ancient cathedrals
What is the remedy?

The pill of the Communion tablet,
The walking beside still water? Memory?
Or picking up the bright pieces
of Christ in the faces of rodents,
The tame flower- nibblers, the ones

Whose hopes are so low they are comfortable -
The humpback in his small, washed cottage
Under the spokes of the clematis.
Is there no great love, only tenderness?
Does the sea

Remember the walker upon it?
Meaning leaks from the molecules.
The chimneys of the city breathe, the window sweats,
The children leap in their cots.
The sun blooms, it is a geranium.

The heart has not stopped. #Quote by Sylvia Plath

#69. The first day ofschool was always so exciting because you get new shoes and a new backpack, but by the last day of school, you're like, "I don't care. I will wear sweats. Am I done yet?" #Quote by Meaghan Martin

#70. As soon as I get into my house, I put on sweats and pyjamas. #Quote by Suki Waterhouse

#71. What they smell isn't the emotion of fear. What dogs can smell is the changes in a person's skin that suggest fear to the dog, anxiety, the way your skin sweats, the amount of uric acid that suddenly pours out of your pores. #Quote by Robert Crais

#72. She would have to relinquish her feelings for water to the power of numbers, navigational compasses, Napier's Rules, coordinates and geopolitics. She watched her lecturer. Could she propose that the sea sweats differently depending on the time and flavor of day and night? That there are doorways within the sea and portals in the wind? That she had heard the earth and moon and sea converge to sing a single storm-borne wind, and these had called her to dance, and that she had danced at night with them under a fecund moon? #Quote by Yvonne Adhiambo Owuor

#73. Being in love is frantic. Fluttery. Falling. It's nervous sweats and pounding heartbeats and a feeling of tremendous rightness #Quote by Sarah Hogle

#74. Find a man who calls you beautiful instead of hot,
Who calls you back when you hang up on him,
Who will ... stay awake just to watch you sleep...
Who wants to show you off to the world when you are in sweats. #Quote by Colin Martin

#75. It wasn't ass-screaming Beaker, though. It was fourteen girls in matching, form fitting sweats, all of which read RIDGE CHEERLEADING on the butt. (A form of ass-screaming, I suppose.) Each had her name on the back of her sleek warm-up fleece. They clustered around the snack bar, yelling at the top of their lungs. I really hoped and prayed that they wouldn't all say "Oh my God!" at once, but my prayers were not heard, maybe because God was busy listening to all of them. #Quote by Maureen Johnson

#76. I sustained an injury by singing with the flu during the second performance of Andrea Chenier in Buenos Aires. I was very sick, with chills and sweats, but against my better judgement I let them talk me into singing. Of course I gave the performance everything I had and my voice was hurt. It was scary at first, but fortunately there was no permanent damage. I just had to be patient and wait for the voice to return. It took six weeks of physical recuperation and it took time to recover my confidence as well. #Quote by Ben Heppner

#77. When you find a guy who calls you beautiful instead of hot, who calls you back when you hang up on him, who will stand in front of you when other's cast stones, or will stay awake just to watch you sleep, who wants to show you off to the world when you are in sweats, who will hold your hand when your sick, who thinks your pretty without makeup, the one who turns to his friends and say, 'that's her', the one that would bear your rejection because losing you means losing his will to live, who kisses you when you screw up, watches the stars and names one for you and will hold and rock that baby for hours so you can sleep…..you marry him all over again. #Quote by Shannon L. Alder

#78. For me, every day is a new thing. I approach each project with a new insecurity, almost like the first project I ever did. And I get the sweats. I go in and start working, I'm not sure where I'm going. If I knew where I was going I wouldn't do it. #Quote by Frank Gehry

#79. Was he wearing those black sweatpants she loved seeing him in? The ones that hung low on his hard abs, his dick print sweats. #Quote by V. Theia

#80. The man who sweats under his mask, whose role makes him itch with discomfort, who hates the division in himself, is already beginning to be free. #Quote by Thomas Merton

#81. I don't know how, but the dormitory smells like sleep - like laundry and shoes and night sweats and morning coffee. #Quote by Veronica Roth

#82. I couldn't figure Brent out. Sort of like if Prince Charming saw Cinderella in sweats, pimply-faced, and covered in ice cream stains, and he still took her to the ball. What did he see in me that screamed "rebel"? #Quote by Abigail Baker

#83. When I got the paperwork for Superstars, and I saw they asked what size swimsuit I wear, I had a hot flash, nearly broke into cold sweats and hired a trainer immediately. #Quote by Ali Landry

#84. Turning away, sobbing, I hide behind my hair, the kettle and coffee forgotten. It's too hard to talk about it. I can't talk about it. It's no one's business but mine. The trauma breathes in my blood, it feasts on my life, it gives me cold sweats and nightmares still. #Quote by Poppet

#85. The priest gazed around my cell and answered in a voice that sounded very weary to me. 'Every stone here sweats with suffering, I know that. I have never looked at them without a feeling of anguish. But deep in my heart I know that the most wretched among you have seen a divine face emerge from their darkness. That is the face you are asked to see.'
This perked me up a little. I said I had been looking at the stones in these walls for months. There wasn't anything or anyone in the world I knew better. Maybe at one time, way back, I had searched for a face in them. But the face I was looking for was as bright as the sun and the flame of desire - and it belonged to Marie. #Quote by Albert Camus