Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Faintly. 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 Faintly Quotes And Sayings by 97 Authors including Pleasefindthis,Anna Akhmatova,David Krae,Fyodor Dostoyevsky,Terry Pratchett for you to enjoy and share.
There was only the kind of silence that comes when someone takes away a cloclk to be repaired and after a time you become aware of its absence because its gentle, reassuring tick is gone.
Real tenderness can't be confused, It's quiet and can't be heard.
Sometimes a soft touch can accomplish more than a thousand swords.
very acutely conscious
...she was definitely feeling several twinkles short of a glitter...
It's enough to send a spike of sensation through me, and enough to make him push out this delicious sound. It's like an oh with the smooth bits sawn off, all rough and guttural and so good to hear.
But the instruction that the awareness is only twenty-five percent really brings home the idea that it's not a concentration practice - there's a very light touch on the berath as it goes out.
I can see it, Ed, I leaned deeper into you, felt you nodding along with the sounds in the room, and your warmth signaled through to me from under your shirt, lovely strong, safe and right.
Did you feel that?' I asked him.
He smiled sadly. 'Fitz, I have never needed to touch you to feel that. It was always there. No limits.
SUBLIMINALLY EXPOSED Shocking truths about your hidden desires in mating, dating and communicating. Use Cautiously. Steven H. Dayan, MD
wondering whether
It's a little blip. There's a tiny little blip in my belly. Tiny. Wow. I forget my discomfort as I stare dumbfounded at the blip ... The little blip is a baby. A real honest to goodness baby. Christian's baby. My baby. Holy cow. A baby! - Ana Grey
But the quiet grows and grows. Beautifully and unbearably.
The soft whispers of the God in man.
I could almost feel him near me, the way you can feel a fire's presence in a cold room.
She barely heard. Barely answered. Finally she nodded. Fingertips
We see but dimly through the mists and vapors; Amid these earthly damps What seem to us but sad, funereal tapers May be heaven's distant lamps.
A brief life burns brightly.
Perhaps on some quiet night the tremor of far-off drums, sinking, swelling, a tremor vast, faint; a sound weird, appealing, suggestive and wild - and perhaps with as profound a meaning as the sound of bells in a Christian country.
Am I glowing?"
"Like a Christmas tree."
"Not just the star?"
The bed moved a little, and I felt his hand brush my arm. "No. You're super bright. It's kind of like looking at the sun.
He can see us, said the angel who had been gesturing so pointedly. His voice was subdued but seemed to reach my ears effortlessly and gently.
was mildly surprised to see) and in the smallest
Listen' he whispered ferociously, like a ferocious breeze or a very gentle hurricane.
I think I'm a little concussed.
Did you need something?"
Seth's attention shifted back to me. "Do I need something to walk over here?"
My fingers curled inward. "Yeah, I think you do."
"I missed them together," Deacon said ... "They're so warm and fuzzy, don't you think? So cute.
Silence is like a flame, you see?
No corporeal substance can be so subtle and swift as this.
... with a quiet suggestion of infinity...
Sometimes, when a person is truly lost in this world, suffocating inside her private bubble where all she can hear is her own droning heartbeat, a touch can be enough.
across the pale glimmering of sand,
Don't you feel it, beautiful, when we touch, doesn't it shift something in you?
Oh, that was smooth. I'm as subtle as a fart.
There was a large sting near his upper lip. I touched it lightly. "Does it hurt?"
My gaze moved from his lips up to his eyes. He was looking at me in a way that made me blush.
"Yes," he responded quietly.
Sometimes [ ... ] real love is silent as well as blind.
Sound of snipping growing softer outside the window, Leo
More than once I tried stretching my hand out in the dark. My fingers touched nothing. The faint glow remained, just beyond my grasp.
Sometimes, the most profound of awakenings come wrapped in the quietest of moments.
He flashes me his dimple-laden grin, and I faint.
No ... literally. I fainted.
It was possible at last to hear the silence to appreciate that there was a silence, deep and potent, out there beyond the pretension of the light.
Even in darkness, the smallest light shines.
I rubbed my hand over my chest, just above my heart. Mrs. Casnoff watched with a look of concern. "Did he hurt you?"
"No," I told her. "He didn't."
Nowhere you could see, at least.
Brock Sumner lifted her from her feet, kissing her in the air, turning her in gentle circles. Then he sighed, too. Very quietly. Very satisfyingly. "Yes," he whispered, "But not as much as I love you."
"Now that," she said quietly, "is a matter worth arguing.
There were days when he touched the tip of her nose and it was enough, a miracle of plenty.
Perhaps I couldn't tickle the inside of his ear, but I could reach the mysterious curves of his mind.
Would a dead man touch you like this?
If I close my eyes, I can feel his body, in that way that you do when someone is near, a faint yet intent electric pulsing.
If an invisible man catches on fire, can you see him burn?
No emphaty when you had blinders on.
Just behind his jaw bones a tiny movement was perceptible, like the movement of gills in a fish.
NO!" Raffe grips me as if he can bind my soul to my body. An upside-down view of the doorway shows up in my field of vision. Smoke waft through it.
Although the pain obscures Raffe's warmth, I feel the presure of his hug, the rocking of our bodies back and forth as he repeats the word, "No.
His fear was whetted to such a fine edge that he could actually feel it now: a disembodied ball of baby fingers inside his stomach, tickling him from the inside. That's what mortal terror felt like, he realized. Tiny fingers tickling you from the inside.
Then stay with me a little longer,' Madame Olenska said in a low tone, just touching his knee with her plumed fan. It was the lightest touch, but it thrilled him like a caress.
My skin was as bumpy as a book in Braille, confessing all I could not say. And his long, slender fingers read every word. I'll take that as a positive sign.
You may think you're not blind, but can you see in the dark?
Quietly, almost a breath, an angel touched you by the hand - and your heart, he made it shine, in the times of hope.
O, undoubtedly yes, and very potable so, but one who deeper thinks will always bear in the baccbuccus of his mind that this downright there you are and there it is is only all in his eye. Why?
Did you hear it?"
"Just about," I said, trembling nervously.
"That's not good enough." She frowned. "Just about will kill you.
I reached out and touched his hands and they stilled at once. I had observed - although I did not often make use of the fact - that there were times when a touch could say things that words could not.
I feel that my fingers have brushed one of life's deep, coursing threads ... Speak, even notice it, and it would disappear.
Beneath the violet pillar, in the vacuum before the roar of the cloud, there came a soft sound that might have been heard by those who listened closely: the gentle sigh of an idea unbound.
At the same time I hear a word so soft and quiet I wonder if he said it up on the hill and the wind has just now carried it down to me.
She touched yesterday cautiously,
Drat. I'm not sure anyone even noticed the kiss."
"I noticed it." He rubbed his mouth with the side of his hand. The taste of ripe plums still lingered on his lips. He found himself unaccountably thirsty.
You are easy to overlook. Slim and pale and so quiet. But now that I've studied your soft grey eyes and traced the fine bones of your face, now that I've kissed your pale pink mouth, I don't want to look anywhere else. My gaze is continually drawn back to you.
Only in stillness does the imperceivable become discernible
Sometimes I can almost see around our heads,
like gnats around a streetlight in summer,
The children we could have,
The glimmer of them.
Yes, magnifliant. Magnificent, brilliant, splendid, superb. I could go on.
The voice was gentle, like a scalpel petting the short hairs of your throat.
The light was only just visible - except of course that there was no one to see, no witnesses, not this time, but it was nevertheless a light.
You're under my skin. Can't get rid of you. Sometimes when I sleep ... I can smell you," he admitted. "I can see your eyes and those cute glasses you wear. I wonder what it would feel like to run my fingers through your hair.
I was quiet about the things I saw, but I saw.
A smile like a small wisp of smoke drifting quietly skyward on a windless day.
It flourished on the air softly in vapors of cobalt light, whispering and sighing.
And the blind man said to the deaf man, Do you see what I hear?
Did you just sniff me?Sniff-- T.m. Cromer
XIII
Lightly, lightly, very lightly
A very light wind passes,
And it goes away just as lightly,
And I don't know what I'm thinking,
Nor do I wish to know.
His shorts hung low and his sweaty, cut to within an inch of its life, pelvic V muscle, was giving a silent but clear invitation to my tongue.
The thought came creeping, just as the numbness came creeping, stealing over his senses, softly, smoothly, there in the silken silence.
In the darkness, he is invisible, but I can still feel him beside me. Sometimes you don't have to see something to know it is there.
Truly unexpected tidings make both ears tingle.
It was so quiet, you could hear a pun drop.
Something has happened, hasn't it? ... It's like being up close to something so large you don't even see it. Even now, I'm not sure I can. But I know it's there.
I can hear people smile.
Imperceptibly the hours glide on, and beguile us as they pass.
Like the brief doomed flare of exploding suns that registers dimly on blind men's eyes, the beginning of the horror passed almost unnoticed; in the shriek of what followed, in fact, was forgotten and perhaps not connected to the horror at all.
A light that I thought had been extinguished was slowly coming back to life.
What about your mind, does it shine?
If I vibrate with vibrations other than yours, must you conclude that my flesh is insensitive?
But most days,
I wander around feeling invisible.
Like I'm a speck of dust
floating in the air
that can only be seen
when a shaft of light hits it.
And, together, the two soft forms, overlapping yet distinct, were like misty wings of silence, exquisitely-spun and spread full, surrounding our Lord in graceful symphony.
The quiet sense of something lost
She was the music heard faintly on the edge of sound.
Blessed is the man who has come to know that our muted thoughts are our sweetest thoughts. "Blessed is the man who, from the blackest depths, can see the luminous figure of LOVE, and seeing, sing; and singing, say: "Sweeter far than uttered lays are the thoughts I have of you.
Was on the point of crying at her, 'Don't you hear them?' The dusk was repeating them in a persistent whisper all around us, in a whisper that seemed to swell menacingly like the
My fingers are tickled to delight by the soft ripple of a baby's laugh ...
She felt ... less. She felt tamped down. Dim. More faint. Feint. Feigned. Fain.
Touching is a powerful act
I think there's a little bit of sizzling here. Honestly, I can feel it. The ions are flying back and forth.
Gentle dullness ever loves a joke.
Nothing is as invisible as the obvious.