Sweating Quotes
The tempest was terrible and separated me from my other vessels that night, putting every one of them in desperate straits, with nothing to look forward to but death. Each was certain the others had been destroyed. What man ever born, not excepting Job, who would not have died of despair, when in such weather seeking safety for my son, my brother, shipmates, and myself, we were forbidden access to the land and the harbors which I, by God's will and sweating blood, had won for Spain.
Christopher Columbus
And I love that even in the toughest moments, when we're all sweating it - when we're worried that the bill won't pass, and it seems like all is lost - Barack never lets himself get distracted by the chatter and the noise. Just like his grandmother, he just keeps getting up and moving forward... with patience and wisdom, and courage and grace.
Michelle Obama
The mind and the body are inextricably entwined, and rarely are their inseparability clearer than when we're under some kind of mental pressure. The moment we start trying to learn a new skill, make a decision or otherwise think on our feet, our nervous system reacts - with accelerated pulse rate, increased respiration, even sweating.
Jeffrey Kluger
I lead by example. My kids know what sweat is. They've seen me come home from so many runs and asked, 'What's on your skin? How did you get it?' And I tell them, 'It's from exercise!' So now my son will come home from a bike ride, take off his helmet and say, 'Look, Mom. I'm sweating! I just worked out!'
Summer Sanders
Such people who choose to depress are not mentally ill; their brain chemistry is not abnormal. It is changed from what it is when they are happy, but that change is perfectly normal for the total behavior, depressing, they are choosing.... The brain chemistry no more causes his depressing than sweating causes running. It is the choice to depress or to run that results in both.
William Glasser
It rained. The procession of weary soldiers became a bedraggled train, despondent and muttering, marching with churning effort in a trough of liquid brown mud under a low, wretched sky. Yet the youth smiled, for he saw that the world was a world for him, though many discovered it to be made of oaths and walking sticks. He had rid himself of the red sickness of battle. The sultry nightmare was in the past. He had been an animal blistered and sweating in the heat and pain of war. He turned now with a lover's thirst to images of tranquil skies, fresh meadows, cool brooks - an existence of soft and eternal peace.
Over the river a golden ray of sun came through the hosts of leaden rain clouds.
Stephen Crane
And then there were the sick to be transported back to Cairo (where already the holy war might have spread like the bubonic and smiling beards above gelder's knives be waiting at the gates), and how in the name of filthy castrating Allah did you march men back through the Sinai who couldn't even sit a mule? He reviewed the sweating patients in gloom, all distorted with bubos...
Anthony Burgess
The world's got a nosebleed, it said
And we're flooding, but we keep on cutting the trees and the forests!
And we keep on paying those freaks on the TV
Who claim they will save us, but want to enslave us, and
Sweating like demons, they scream through our speakers
But we leave the sound on 'cause silence is harder, and
No one's the killer and no one's the martyr
The world that has made us can no longer contain us
And prophets are silent and rotting away.
Regina Spektor
It isn't that the beau monde was too big for Capote's talents. The beau monde was too small for Capote's talents. Here, at least, in human terms the Very Rich are very poor. Interestingly, they are not interesting; incredibly, they are not even credible. They are certainly not the 'unspoiled monsters' of Capote's chapter title: they are spoiled mediocrities, they are boring freaks. The backgammon bums, the sweating champagne buckets, 'the Racquet Club, Le Jockey, the Links, White's', 'Lafayette, The Colony, La Grenouille, La Caravelle', 'Vuitton cases, Battistoni shirts, Lanvin suits, Peal shoes': how keen can a writer afford to be on all this?
Martin Amis
I am gall, I am heartburn. God's most deep decree
Bitter would have me taste: my taste was me;
Bones built in me, flesh filled, blood brimmed the curse.
Selfyeast of spirit a dull dough sours. I see
The lost are like this, and their scourge to be
As I am mine, their sweating selves; but worse.
Gerard Manley Hopkins
What is the good, I ask, in the name of common sense, of prohibiting sweating in this country if you allow sweated goods to come in from foreign countries? If you insist on limitation, of hours and upon precautions for security, bear in mind all these things add to the cost of production, to the difficulties of the manufacturer in selling his goods, and unless you give him some increased price, some increased advantage in compensation, then he cannot carry on competition any longer. All these conditions in the long run will result not to your advantage, for you will have no work to do, but to the advantage of the foreigner, who is not so scrupulous and who conducts his work without any of these conditions...If protected labour is good, and I think in many ways it is...then it is good to protect the results of labour, and you cannot do one without the other.
Joseph Chamberlain
She was worried about childbirth too cause she's little, you know. She's all scared. She's like, "When I have this kid, I want to be knocked out and unconscious." And I'm like "That's how ya were when you got pregnant!" That's full circle, right there! I did feel bad. That's tough. I'm tellin' ya. I felt horrible for her. Just pushing, and sweating, and screaming at the top of her lungs, and pushing and sweating, biting down on a stick... Ugh! Now she knows how I feel after a couple of Hot Pockets. You ever eat them Hot Pockets? Good Lord! I was backed up like a urinal on Saint Patrick's Day after eating them damn things. It was embarrassing. She's in the bed, giving b-[Grunting] I'm on the toilet next to her, [grunting] You know? I'm like "I need another Epidural in here if you got one!"
Larry the Cable Guy
The little guy's face was a bloody mess. Between the puffballs of blue-black flesh that used to be eyelids, the dull gleam of shock-deadened pupils watched Dilwick uncomprehendingly. His lips were swollen things of lacerated skin, with slow trickles of blood making crooked paths from the corners of his mouth through the stubble of a beard to his chin, dripping onto a stained shirt.
Dilwick stood just outside the glare of the lamp, dangling like the Sword of Damocles over the guy's head. He was sweating too. His shirt clung to the meaty expanse of his huge neck. He pushed his beefy hand further into the leather glove and swung. The solid smack of his open hand on the little guy's jaw was nasty. His chair went over backward and his head cracked against the concrete floor of the room like a ripe melon. Dilwick put his hands on his hips and glared down at the caricature that once was human.
Mickey Spillane
He lies on top of her, sweating, taking great breaths, watching her face turned 3/4 away, not even a profile, but the terrible Face That is No Face, gone too abstract, unreachable: the notch of the eye socket, but never the labile eye, only the anonymous curve of cheek, convexity of mouth, a noseless mask of the Other Order of Being, of Katje's being - the lifeless non-face that is the only face of hers he really knows, or will ever remember.
Thomas Pynchon
