Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Axils. Share them with your friends on social media platforms like Facebook, Twitter, or your personal blogs, and let the world be inspired by their powerful messages. Here are the Top 100 Axils Quotes And Sayings by 98 Authors including Nick Bantock,John Locke,Michael Ondaatje,Sidonie Gabrielle Colette,Einar Skjaeraasen for you to enjoy and share.
In the caves of my heart, where pain taps out its rhythms and sorrow sets its loss, i am without direction.
Beasts abstract not.
Madox, what is the name of that hollow at the base of a woman's neck? At the front. Here. What is it, does it have an official name? That hollow about the size of an impress of your thumb?"
Madox watches me for a moment through the noon glare.
"Pull yourself together," he mutters.
Voluptuaries, consumed by their senses, always begin by flinging themselves with a great display of frenzy into an abyss. But they survive, they come to the surface again. And they develop a routine of the abyss: It's four o clock. At five I have my abyss ...
Over lowland, over snow and tundra span arches, raised by the rising sun. See: the light is winning! And the stream is streaming towards open minds and towards seeds dreaming of growth.
And upper to midcervical spinal cord, above C4.
be the medulla oblongata.
The brain is an island in an osmotically homogeneous sea.
Toward dusk, the black birds descend, millions of them, to sit in the branches of trees nearby. The trees grow heavy with black birds, branches like dendrites of the Nervous System fattening, deep in twittering nerve-dusk, in preparation for some important message ... .
My genius is in my nostrils.
Legions of grotesques sweep under his hand; for has not nature too her grotesques - the rent rock, the distorting lights of evening on lonely roads, the unveiled structure of man in the embryo, or the skeleton?
The eyes, like sentinels, hold the highest place in the body.
[Lat., Oculi, tanquam, speculatores, altissimum locum obtinent.]
Cinders. Embers. Ashes.
[in the true mad north] of introspection,
where 'falcons of the inner eye'
dive and die, glimpsing in their
dying fall, all life's memory of existence.
I can't bring myself to open my eyes. I am an ember, glowing from the inside out. The dark and silent room keeps everything else at bay, every sensation, except the two of us, Nick and Lily, who have just made love.
Like opium, nerve annihilation stretches up my veins to pump incinerating anguish through my body.
My chest, Stella's hip, Jamie's left ass cheek.
Underneath Day's azure eyes, Ocean's nursling, Venice lies, A peopled labyrinth of walls, Amphitrite's destined halls
Blood, fat, marrow, grease, sinew, muscle, guts, hide, fur, sleep
They may twitch in their dreams when they sleep
but they sleep deep
My anus, like the inside of my nose, is something I can finger but can't examine.
My cerebral cortex, the gray matter that MIT neuroscientist Steven Pinker likens to 'a large sheet of two-dimensional tissue that has been wadded up to fit inside the spherical skull,' is riddled instead of whole.
I am truly not an axiologist, but I am concerned about the value of life in all of its forms and shapes.
Come, every frustum longs to be a cone, And every vector dreams of matrices. Hark to the gentle gradient of the breeze: It whispers of a more ergodic zone.
Treacherous ashes hide
The fires through which you stride
My memory; it is located in the heart and not in the head.
Pascal meditated upon outer space, but we need only turn our thoughts inward to feel his dread. Inside every one of our skulls lies an organ so vast in its complexity that it might as well be infinite.
If at times my eyes are lenses through which the brain explores constellations of feeling my ears yielding like swinging doors admit princes to the corridors into the mind, do not envy me. I have a beast on my back.
Tiny Salmoneus of the air His mimic bolts the firefly threw.
Wir tappen im Labyrinth unsers Lebenswandels und im Dunkel unserer Forschungen umher: helleAugenblicke erleuchten dabei wie Blitze unsernWeg. We grope about in the labyrinth of our life and in the obscurity of our investigations; bright moments illuminate our path like flashes of lightning.
Eccentricities of genius.
Expose foes wit my hocus pocus flows, they froze now suckas idolize my chosen blows
Outside of nirvana, the planes begin, the subtlest planes of light that vibrate fastest, all the way on down through the astral realms through the physical and so on.
The brain is a soupy lightning storm swirling and crackling in three pounds of wet meat. Do
Brain against brute force - and brain came out on the top - as its bound to do.
What folly takes light through ether to each eye from every horizon.
We draw our lines around these moments of pain, and remain upon our islands, and they cannot hurt us. They are covered with a smooth, safe, nacreous layer to let them slip, pearl-like, from our souls without real pain. Fiction
Where the eye divides, the ear connects.
Food of Acheron. (Grave.)
[Lat., Pabulum Acheruntis.]
These Atlantikoinonia. They're human? (Acheron)
What else would they be? Turnips? (Tory)
The murex Dr. Geffard keeps on his desk can entertain her for a half hour, the hollow spines, the ridged whorls, the deep entrance; it's a forest of spikes and caves and textures; it's a kingdom. Her
It seethes and seethes, a river of darkness, putting forth lilies and snakes
Auguries of innocence
The emmet's inch and eagle's mile
Make lame philosophy to smile.
He who doubts from what he sees
Will ne'er believe, do what you please.
Lip. I have a sudden vivid picture of the earth as flat, a tray, covered in marbles, and someone is tilting it, and the marbles are rolling, cascading, from east to west.
Thinking brainlessly with their spinal cords.
Torrent of light and river of air,
Along whose bed the glimmering stars are seen,
Like gold and silver sands in some ravine
Where mountain streams have left their channels bare!
Incontinent the void. The zenith. Evening again. When not night it will be evening. Death again of deathless day. On one hand embers. On the other ashes. Day without end won and lost. Unseen.
At the skin, my blood calls out to
your heart, my whole sky craves
an island of tenderness.
My rivers tilt towards you.
Air goes in and out
of my nose, throat, lungs, blood, heart
brain - and so I am
There are high places that don't invite us, sharp shapes, glacier-scraped faces, whole ranges whose given names slip off. Any such relation as we try to make refuses to take ... I'm giddy with thinking where thinking can't stick.
No Names
The stars, bright sentinels of the skies.
Penetrates your iris, tenderest of sphincters,
What has three eyes,
three nipples and two assholes?
A gathering nimbus obscured the sun's light and out from the gathered clouds looped and coiled the guardian of the avian world. With a trail of inferno in her wake, it was Alicanto
The body is a rock; the arms are snakes
Everything is bilateral in the domain of thought. Ideas are binary. Janus is the myth of criticism and the symbol of genius. Only God is triangular!
Romulus and Remus, twin sons of dark Mars and a human vestal, sucking at the dugs of a wolf bitch.
The groin. The Earthborn's groin is sensitive." SMASH! "Good. Yes. Tyson found its groin." "Percy needs help?" Tyson called. "I'm good!" "Die!" Polybotes yelled, closing fast. Percy kept running.
The Ainu youth came upon a band of Ainu hunters passing through the area. "What is this area called?" he asked them.
"Do you really think this asshole of a terrain even deserves a name?" they replied.
Like the enotmologist in search of colorful butterflies, my attention has chased in the gardens of the grey matter cells with delicate and elegant shapes, the mysterious butterflies of the soul, whose beating of wings may one day reveal to us the secrets of the mind.
Out of many things a great heap will be formed.
[Lat., De multis grandis acervus erit.]
What sphinx of cement and aluminium bashed open their skulls and ate up their brains and imagination
Gankis lifted an arm to point at the distant shale cliffs. "And in the face of it there were thousands of little holes, little what-you-call-'ems ... "
"Alcoves," Kennit supplied in an almost dreamy voice. "I call them alcoves, Gankis. As would you, if you could speak your own mother tongue.
In that shrieking the inmost soul of human fear and agony clawed hopelessly and insanely at the ebony gates of oblivion.
An abyss is not nothing; it has environs & edges.
Christ, I walk through an inferno unscatched, then singe my ass on the flight back."
[ ... ]
"You guys are the ... the heart and brain of the Great Machine."
"Yeah? Then you're the inflamed anus."
"You're not the brain, by the way.
What see you in the horizon's bruised smear
That cannot be blotted out
By your raised hand?
I am the queen of spades, I am the wasp that stings, I am the dark serpent. I am the invulnerable animal who passes through fire and is not burned.
Acheron. When it absolutely, positively must be destroyed overnight.
In visions of the night, like dropping rain,
Descend the many memories of pain
The deepest and darkest dungeons that we are ever flung into are the dungeons of the mind
Located two ribs below the heart, it is called hate.
A labyrinth of symbols ... An invisible labyrinth of time.
Beneath those stars is a universe of gliding monsters.
Museums are custodians of epiphanies, and these epiphanies enter the central nervous system and deep recesses of the mind.
We must have a creature made of Darkness to break through the cage of Darkenss that imprisons your grandmother," Thanatos said.
"That creature is me." Aurox stepped forward.
"Oh, for shit's sake! We are absolutely fucked!" Aphrodite said.
Sadly I had to agree with her.
Aelin of the Wildfire. Aelin Fireheart. Aelin Light-Bringer.
They can try to kill me all they want, but I'm the girl who stands on tha backs of the beasts of the NeoPacific. The Minnow blazes from within, promising life and warmth and vilainy, but out here I'm mighty.
In a cabinet of natural history, we become sensible of a certain occult recognition and sympathy in regard to the most unwieldy and eccentric forms of beast, fish, and insect.
I'm only sensitive in the area that counts, Sticks."
"The soft spot on your skull that never hardened?
Dark gods beneath the ground in the Frostfangs,
What is across there? Lykos said.
Death, whatever that is. Said Calidus.
vessels beneath the retina, which ultimately
I can't feel a thing; All mournful petal storms are dancing inside the very private spring of my head.
Aristotle's scala naturae, which runs from God, the angels, and humans at the top, downward to other mammals, birds, fish, insects, and mollusks at the bottom.
The deep spaces between stars , Fathomless as the cold shadow His mind cast.
Entrusting her memory to the wind, to the embrace of the silent sentinel trees and to the care of the faithful stars, her namesake, pure and everlasting, the uncontained universe contained in her: Cassiopeia.
A dull ax never loves grindstones.
Dinosauria, we born
Night. Wind. Stars. Sea. Stones.
Nature endlessly in every direction
inward to your body and outward into space.
Australopithecus.
Oxus, forgetting the bright speed he had In his high mountain cradle in Pamere, A foiled circuitous wanderertill at last The longed-for dash of waves is heard, and wide His luminous home of waters opens, bright And tranquil, from whose floor the new-bathed stars Emerge, and shine upon the Aral Sea.
What in the name of Zeus's testicles?
For underground metaphors, you can scrape an inch below the turf.
For what it's worth, my style's been developed in the core of the Earth.
The exhale's volcanic, the inhale is seismic ...
Everything is octopusied.
The immense profundity of thought in vulgar locutions, like holes dug by generations of ants.
Ariadne in the labyrinth. The most alive of worlds, human beings with the tenderest flesh, are made of marble. I strew devastation as I pass. I wander dead-eyed through cities and petrified populations.
There are a thousand ways of inhabiting it, but the aether, that in-between, is always what it is; and ghosts, spirits, the souls of lucid dreamers squeeze past each other in complex asomatic ecology. Who better to close in on Wati the bodiless subversive than bodiless forces of the law?
Every vertebra, every knuckle, both kneecaps, both hips. I am a pile of bones on the floor and no one knows it but me. I am a broken skeleton with a beating heart.
I wish you'd wash your mind-ears out! Organazoomers. They're how you travel inside a soultree. Don't you know anything?