Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Helter. 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 Helter Quotes And Sayings by 93 Authors including Natascha Mcelhone,Paul Johnson,Victoria Roberts,Neil Leckman,Cassandra Clare for you to enjoy and share.
Scribbling things down is my therapy. I filter later.
Would you like a little Sheesh with that Whine?
No matter how much he denied his attraction to her, those red curls haunted his dreams like brilliant flames that couldn't be extinguished...
"Fuirich air falbh on teine," he said under his breath, but loud enough for her to hear. Stay away from the fire.
Asthmatic spewer of filth gasps, but clean air does not suffice
To fuel fires fueled by thoughts got rotten
Lest we all be forgotten things
That sit like dust upon the mantel of her mind
Filters are for cigarrettes and coffee," Simon muttered under his breath as they went inside. "Two things I could use right now, incidentally.
Like a water filter, your words filter needs to be replaced regularly to continue purifying.
We have a no puke rule. The purpose is performance, not puking.
She looked before she drank. Looking was part of drinking. why waste sensation, she seemed to ask, why waste a single drop that can be pressed out of this ripe, this melting, this adorable world? Then she drank. And the air round her became threaded with sensation.
These words are vomit.
This shaky pen is my esophagus.
This sheet of paper is my porcelain bowl.
Hester bade little Pearl run down to the margin of the water, and play with the shells and tangled sea-weed, until she should have talked awhile with yonder gatherer of herbs.
Finch picked up one of the ancient fax-mags and brought it over to me.
"I don't need anything to read," I said. "I'll just sit here and eavesdrop along with you."
"I thought you might sit on the mag," he said. "It's extremely difficult to get soot out of chintz.
Stuffwise we are not a lean operation. We're the kind of people who, if we were deciding what absolute minimum essential items we'd need to carry in our backpacks for the final, treacherous ascent to the summit of Mount Everest, would take along aquarium filters, just in case.
When the water of a place is bad it is safest to drink none that has not been filtered through either the berry of a grape, or else a tub of malt. These are the most reliable filters yet invented.
I'm pure at heart. It repels the dirt.
God loveth the clean.
Cease ye from man, whose breath is in his nostrils.
Iggy: I'll grab a zebra; Gaz, you fill all the bubbles with your trademark scent. so people are choking and gagging; and let's throw beef jerky in their eyes! Now, that's a plan!
Try to be a filter, not a sponge.
Frankie's a puke." She
for he seemed only able to inhale it by thimblefuls,
Pipes filled with brine that spied on the inhabitants of buildings watching, listening, hunting. You might obscure the attention of the Londonmancers, with the complicity of a treacherous borough, with strikebreaking hexes strong enough: but nothing could stay hidden from an inquisitive sea.
Think before you stink
Hulga the whole while hollering like a half-slaughtered hog. (Attention, students of literature! Alliteration - have you noticed? - is my least vice.)
Heav'n hath no Rage, like Love to Hatred turn'd,
Nor Hell a Fury, like a Woman scorn'd.
Purify thy sacred soul.
It's a French technique. Soups get screened, and sauces. Forced through a tamis or a chinois. Everything that comes out is smooth and all the rough parts get left behind, thrown away. I don't want to be screened.
I'm so storming pure I practically belch rainbows.
Breathing in Shepelevo was like hitting the right note on the piano. There was only one note. When I was young, Shepelevo was the smell of nettles, of salted smoked fish, of fresh water from the Gulf of Finland, and of burning firewood, all wrapped up in one Shepelevo.
Is there anything in this place to drink that didn't once filter through internal organs?
lungful of rim block. Her senses sharpened and the urge to vomit left her at last. Hawkins heaved herself up onto her knees and sat back on
Around us I can sniff out a savagery in the noisy southern air. It knifes it's way into my nose, but I do not bleed blood. It's fear I bleed, and it gushes out over my lip. I wipe it away, in a hurry.
Sometimes we're all trying to purge something. And what we're trying to purge resists our purging.
Behjet eased the horse forward again. "The harvest is failing. There will be no crop at all if this rain doesn't stop - not even hay."
The rain. The rain she'd been so grateful for, the rain that concealed the warping of her shadow. It was going to kill people.
Sham Harga's coffee was like molten lead, but it had this in its favor: when you'd drunk it, there was this overwhelming feeling of relief that you'd got to the bottom of the cup.
The hasty bitch bringeth forth blind welps
Hooper ladled chum, which sounded to Brody, every time it hit the water, like diarrhea.
He wouldn't refine you if He didn't know He was purifying gold.
empty out the toxins of life to avoid clogging
through gritted teeth, "is to look through
I spy, with my little eye, something that starts with ... G."
"Sausages.
To the Puritan all things are impure, as somebody says.
It glistens, it gleams, I
Someone stumbled into him, cursed and walked away. Richard was lying prone on the platform, in the rush-hour glare. The side of his face was sticky and cold. He pulled his head up off the ground. He had been lying in a pool of his own vomit. At least, he hoped it was his own.
You want the air
but not the words that come with it:
breathe at your peril.
Timon: Would thou wert clean enough to spit upon!
You two. You can do a cleaning spell."
One slurred, "But Nixie, I'm really pre-hung-over."
Nix's eyes went wide. "Do it, or the photos go live!"
The witch shook her fist to the sky, crying, "Damn you, Valkyrie! Damn you and your digital ways!
It appeared that a streamer machine had vomited everywhere
Hedwig clicked her beak with a sort of dignified disapproval.
She floundered in a fog of his hatreds and desires, his
A noble character loves things unadulterated.
He felt water run down his back from the damp brickwork he was sitting against, and as he worried distantly about corrosion he realised you can always fall a little further. A moment ago he thought he'd bottomed out, but now he was concerned about personal rust. Mother of fuck.
The fire of love is the best purifier.
vomiting the crying
I was born without a filter on my mouth.
It is not until we have passed through the furnace that we are made to know how much dross there is in our composition.
Repooping is the purest form of pooping
He wiped sweat from his brow, drew a shaky breath.
My thoughts dissolved and just like that, a new thought broke the surface of my
mind. I wanted to kiss him. Right now.
Patch arched his eyebrows. "What?"
"Uh - nothing. Nothing at all. You wash, I'll dry.
The attention is to be kept pure.
I was pure, before you defiled me, and don't you forget it. As though the concept of purity is anything more than the construct of selfish, competitive men stampeding toward the women to call dibs. I'll be damned if I'm not worth stampeding toward, but the prize had better be me, hymen or no hymen.
Both of us watch the purification happen, and I wonder if he is thinking what I am: that it would be nice if life worked this way, stripping the dirt from our lives and sending us out into the world clean. But some dirt is destined to linger.
And what's wrong wi' the way ye smell?' he said heatedly. 'At least ye smelt like a woman, not a damn flower garden. What d'ye think I am, a man or a bumblebee? Would ye wash yourself, Sassenach, so I can get within less than ten feet of ye?
It is well if the good man himself does not feel his devotions a little clouded, those foggy sensuous steams mingling with and polluting the pure altar surface.
Sometimes a choppy wave would swamp me, and after I rose gasping I would vomit the foul-tasting water, wiping the sea from my eyes and nostrils. Then I regained my posture to do battle, again with the Solent.
You are the source of all purity and impurity. No one purifies another.
I've known damnable beauty - the turgid pull of swirling blackness - but in the end, it's futile - purity alone redeems ...
Yesterday was to me like the paper through which chemists filter their solutions: all suspended particles, all that is superfluous remains on this paper. And this morning I went downstairs freshly distilled, transparent.
I drink, I huff, I strut, look big and stare; And all this I can do, because I dare.
The churn of stale words in the heart again
love love love thud of the old plunger
pestling the unalterable
whey of words
Fire's an excellent purifier.
bucket on the deck behind him, bait sloshing. He
The pickup bumped heavily over the worn and stony footpath. The up-down motion made Cliff belch. He hit the break and came to a full stop in order to take a pull from the bottle. This was one time he couldn't drink while driving.
Cleaniness is the cornerstone of discipline and the trademark of success
Purity or impurity depends on oneself,
No one can purify another.
All is not golde that shewyth goldishe hewe.
I smoked some weed, and that's how I finished 'Izzo.'
When a man is tired of Ankh-Morpork, he is tired of ankle-deep slurry.
He glanced at Flat Finn, who was positioned in one corner of the room, facing the wall. "What is Flat Finn doing? If he's urinating on the floor, you're cleaning it up."
...
"Is he in trouble? He has to stand in the corner and think about what he's done?
Look, I get it. Loose stools are grosser than solid ones. But the censor is using the context of her own life history with all her hang-ups to answer the question, Is there a defensible ratio of fiber to water in this stool?
ruins." A flush spread up
Dust billowed around us, creeping under our loose-tied handkerchiefs and into our noses and mouths. It was fine and silty, red as ochre or the brush-tailed fox,
O Lord, help me to be pure, but not yet.
I grok in fullness.
What a time to have a brain-to-mouth filter malfunction.
Blue was standing over her, shaking out his wet hair like an annoying blue dog. Beads of water clung to the muscle of his chest. He was wiry, not buff like Henley, but his body made up for size with definition.
Nothing could make up for his personality.
"Stop dripping on me," Mira snapped.
Think of what is pure.
Listen to me, you broken-fanged, moss-wiped excuse for a back-drafted blood bag! Jenks said, a silver-edged red dust slipping from him.
I smell you off him, she screamed, he stinks of bitch.
Stopped rowing as the liquid run of that glad piping broke on him like a wave, caught him up, and possessed him utterly.
When people say "clean as a whistle", they forget that a whistle is full of spit.
Thomas Gray walks as if he had fouled his small- clothes and looks as if he smelt it.
'Sblood, you starveling, you elf-skin, you dried neat's tongue, you bull's pizzle, you stock-fish! O for breath to utter what is like thee! you tailor's-yard, you sheath, you bowcase; you vile standing-tuck!
You're so clean that you're dirty.
Then pretty soon Sherburn sort of laughed; not the pleasant kind, but the kind that makes you feel like when you are eating bread that's got sand in it.
Raw, gentle, and easy, it mizzled out of the high air, a special elixir, tasting of spells and stars and air, carrying a peppery dust in it, and moving like a rare light sherry on his tongue. Rain.
Streams may spring from one source and yet some may be clear and some be foul.
Sole reigning holds the tyranny of Heav'n.
Totally drained he could only manage one but he made it a good one tongue included. "Delicious " he murmured.
"So depraved " Colton muttered.
"Thank you."
"Get off me."
"Mine "
"Stings."
"Boohoo.
I can't find my breath.
We really can say no in 10 seconds or so to 90%+ of all the things that come along simply because we have these filters.