Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Panted. 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 Panted Quotes And Sayings by 93 Authors including Gillian Flynn,Dennis Vickers,Marcus Luttrell,Stephen Leacock,Diogenes Laertius for you to enjoy and share.
Vickery, a slim fellow in his early fifties, had already sweated through his uniform. His shirt clung to his chest, and his pants puckered out in back where an ass should have been.
He yawned like a black bear coming out of hibernation.
Every bone in my body was crying out for rest, but I knew if I stopped, and perhaps slept, I would die. I had to keep going. It was strange, but the thirst which was killing me was also the driving force keeping me on this long, desperate march.
broke into a blaze of effulgence.
The tired ox treads with a firmer step
be withdrawn and seemed as if he was carrying the weight of
The air was a malodorous broth, and all labored to inhale it. The
Perezvon (the dog) ran about in the wildest spirits, sniffing about first one side, then the other. When he met other dogs they zealously smelt each other over according to the rules of canine etiquette.
I wasn't running now so much as stumbling quickly, panting like a geriatric lion.
He had had a severe shock some weeks earlier, when, having narrowly failed to capture a large grey-brown hare for his dinner, it had stopped at the edge of the forest, looked at him with disdain, and said, 'Well, I hope you're proud of yourself, that's all,' and had scampered off into the long grass
Through endurance we conquer.
it sometimes happened that you would, in the middle of your exertions, be discouraged by the absurdity of what you were in the process of doing: athletic exertion was vanity. You engaged in it less for the joy of the act than in order to exhaust yourself.
He ran on the white tiles up through the tunnels, ignoring the escalators, because he wanted to feel his feet move, arms swing, lungs clench, unclench, feel his throat go raw with air.
It was too strong in the air.
I had no rest against that
springtime!
The pounding of the hoofs on the
raw sods
stayed with me half through the night.
I awoke smiling but tired.
Sneezes pent but set like traps, the boys crouched, stood, lay sweating a cool and constant brine.
The swift greyhounds chased him for hours, wearing the wolf down, tiring him out so he would be too weak to give more than a token fight at the end.
He remembered this tactic well from when he had been the hunter on the horse....
At least I know what happens next.
After shedding only as much clothing as required, I climbed onto his lap and rode him like I was running a race and the finish line was in sight.
Can I view thee panting, lying On thy stomach, without sighing; Can I unmoved see thee dying On a log Expiring frog!
We fell. We got up. We ran.
was working the cold up
I ran with all my might. All
Already her lungs screamed for air.
Endurance running was my passion , my ride. So here, I was in the driver's seat, running for two days straight pushing the mental and physical limits striving to be better, to go farther, to give more.
He was a mighty beast, mightily muscled, and the urge that has made males fight since the dawn of life on earth filled him with the blood-lust and the thirst to slay;
He had on a funny T-shirt, as usual. Today's featured acartoon figure running from a giant T. rex, and it read EXERCISE: SOME MOTIVATIONREQUIRED.
And then the car was beside him, not idling but panting like a deadly animal which may or may not be tamed.
I launched forward. The Shift was effortless. A snarl ripped from my throat, and the ground rushed past me. My paws were nearly skinned with the pace. My people joined me. Death was on the wind, in our voice, in our soul.
If I could just keep my legs shut I might yet win this battle. It seemed an insurmountable task, given the array of his arsenal. The size of his artillery. One hand dived down further, stroking between my legs, while the other held the back of my head. I was helpless, the battle lost. God, I sucked.
he climbed desperately to escape the unendurable nuzzling of that loathsome and overfed bhole
pressed. I felt very slobbish next
By endurance we conquer.
Bathed in sweat and trembling with agitation, no,
not with agitation, but with fear, for he finally admitted it to himself: it was naked fear
that had seized him, and in admitting it he grew calmer and his thoughts clearer
prostrate body. He groaned when
Blowed if I ain't all in a muck sweat,' said the Giant, puffing like the largest railway engine. 'Comes of being out of condition. I suppose neither of you young Ladies has such a thing as a pocket-hankerchee about you?
Curiosity and timidity fought a long battle in his heart.
To be the best and stay there, sweat is necessary.
Breathing is underrated.
Thrice rung the bell, the slipper knock'd the ground, And the press'd watch return'd a silver sound. Belinda still her downy pillow prest, Her guardian SYLPH prolong'd the balmy rest:
Lord Thornbeck lifted her onto the saddle. He looked her in the eye, and her breath stilled in her chest. There was such an intense expression on his face, but there was also something else . . . tenderness. He
He was gleaming with sweat. It would have taken inhuman willpower not to drink in every inch of his muscled, tatted up body.
And I was human. Oh Lord, was I human.
He felt a quiet pride about the road he had traveled with this old pack ... He may be scarred and worn in places, but like his pack, he believed he was better for it.
You don't sweat much for a fat girl!
Her heart was beating a marathon somewhere in the region of her throat, her skin felt hot and stretched taut over her bones, and she was damp in places she was tolerably certain unmarried gentlewomen were not supposed to be damp in.
As he huffed across the rocky edge.
In a livid wet dress, under the tumbling mist ... had run ecstatically up that ridge above Moulinet to be felled there by a thunderbolt.
A warm human plumpness settled down on his brain. His brain yielded. Perfume of embraces all him assailed. With hungered flesh obscurely, he mutely craved to adore.
Longing, breathing, and panting after deliverance is a grace in itself, that has a mighty power to conform the soul into the likeness of the thing longed after ... unless you long for deliverance you shall not have it.
Endurance is not just the ability to bear a hard thing, but to turn it into glory.
Dinted
dimpled wimpled
his mind wandered down echoing corridors of
assonance and alliteration ever further and further from the
point. He was enamoured with the beauty of words.
Ransie was a narrow six feet of sallow brown skin and yellow hair. The imperturbability of the mountains hung upon him like a suit of armor. The woman was calicoed, angled, snuff-brushed, and weary with unknown desires. Through it all gleamed a faint protest of cheated youth unconscious of its loss.
When he ran from a cop, his transitions from accelerating walk to easy jog trot to brisk canter to headlong gallop to flogged-piston sprint ... were as distinct and as soberly in order as an automatic gearshift.
His powers of sweating were extraordinary.
How often have I painted a splendid picture of a journey marked by courageous ascents and daring desert crossings when all along all I've really been doing is running?
RODERIGO What a full fortune does the thick lips owe, If he can carry't thus!
Wolgast leaned back in his chair and realized how exhausted he was. It always came upon him like this, like the sudden unclenching of a fist.
He breathed in. He breathed out.
He forgot how to exhale when he wasn't at home.
In her bones, in her blood and breath and soul, she was so, so tired.
How can you be tired? your poor horse did all the running."
"It was emotionally exhausting, Hammond," Breeze said, rapping the larger man's hand with his cane.
He was proud and stubborn, and all the ton looked up to him. Men curried his favor, women flirted like mad. And all the while he'd been terrified every time he'd opened his mouth.
Sweat is the cologne of accomplishment.
There he lay, a vast red-golden dragon, fast asleep; thrumming came from his jaws and nostrils, and wisps of smoke, but his fires were low in slumber.
His huff arrived and he departed in it.
After conscientiously tasting fritters every day for a month Lola had put on two pounds! Her little belt bore witness to the disaster, she found herself obliged to move on to the next notch. She burst into tears.
With Torin stretched over her, his weight pinning her down, his heat and scent surrounding her, she was utterly consumed with pleasure. It saturated her bones, submerged her mind, tickled her every cell. She was alive with decadent sensation.
Kate was lying under him, spread on the table like a banquet for a starving man. And the scent of her arousal caused his hunger to spike suddenly and sharply from deep inside him. It surged out of him in a wave that overwhelmed him. Journey Into Submission (eXtasy)
He was very weary; the day had been long, and full of dragons.
And Teddy worried lots about
The fact that he was rather stout.
He thought: If only I were thin!
But how does anyone begin?
Sweat seems to bleed / like pride from their bones.
The wind picked up intensity as Brent's lips found
mine, and I decided our training sessions were going to be
a lot of fun.
What makes a great endurance athlete is the ability to absorb potential embarrassment, and to suffer without complaint.
Two choices. One future. I was so sick of running. So sick of hiding. So sick of being weak . I didn't run. I didn't deny it. Instead, I held my chin high and claimed all that I'd achieved. I'd won; they'd lost. So be it if my life was now over.
affectionate exasperated breath I knew
carefully negotiated his way
Breathe!
It was a command. And order, and I pulled in a breath before he shoved himself back in, invading me, breaking me ...
He couldn't wait - not one second more - and entered her with one long hard thrust. He was so careful with her, always, but this time he couldn't be careful, couldn't be gentle; he needed to possess her the way he needed to breathe.
On he went, one foot in front of the other. Now that he accepted the slowness of himself, he took pleasure in the distance he covered.
She did not look her best: so thin, so large-nosed, with that pink-and-white checked duster tied round her head. She felt her disadvantage. But she had had a good deal of suffering and sorrow, she did not mind any more.
She tore off the kerchief from her head and let down her plentiful hair. The weight, the length, the glory was all there. She took careful stock of herself, then combed her hair and tied it back up again.
The more thou sweateth in training, the less thou bleedeth in combat.
The hunger of a dragon is slow to wake, but hard to sate.
The stallion's crest was arched, his nose was perpendicular to the floor, and his hind legs were gathered underneath him, showing off the powerfully developed muscles in his massive hindquarters. His ears cocked back toward his rider - he was concentrating.
With a resigned shrug, she screamed and collapsed into a faint. She stayed resolutely fainted, despite the liberal application of smelling salts, which made her eyes water most tremendously, a cramp in the back of one knee, and the fact that her new ball gown was getting most awfully wrinkled.
Gods, she was as exquisite as her scent - Wham! The demons tackled him with the force of a freight train, flattening him on the field, piling on top of him.
BED. He smelled his adult sweat, tasted it
O! how shall summer's honey breath hold out, / Against the wrackful siege of battering days?
Dom Paulo had not expected to convince him. But it was with a heavy heart that the abbot noticed the plodding patience with which the thon heard him through; it was the patience of a man listening to an argument which he had long ago refuted to his own satisfaction.
He wiped sweat from his brow, drew a shaky breath.
The night was mossy and hot...
I ran like a cheetah - well, like a cheetah that smoked too much.
Are you still faint from the run? Or was it my kissing expertise?
A groan rumbled through him as he kissed me like an oxygen-starved man and I was his air.
The forest stretched away before him. Beneath his paws he could feel the crisp crackle of newly fallen leaves. Silverpelt glittered in the sky like morning dew scattered on black fur.
Tyrion Lannister was bundled in furs so thickly he looked like a very small bear
From the ground. They waded waist-deep in the grass, in a compact body, bearing an improvised stretcher in their midst. Instantly, in the emptiness of the landscape, a cry arose whose shrillness pierced the still air like a sharp arrow
He wiped the sweat from his face on his sleeve, squared his shoulders, and strode back into the fray. All there was to do was his duty.
She barked like a dog and crowed like a rooster.
The sky bruised my eyes with rain's weight and my body was a held breath.
The heat of late afternoon closed in around us like an animate thing; you could feel it on your skin, warm and moist, like a great beast panting. The air was so dense it seemed to require a huge effort even to inhale it. It lay thick in the lungs and seemed to give no refreshment. Pg 163
There we were, filled with pure animal need, as he pinned me to the wooden table, and cruelly whipped my naked bottom; the two of us sweaty and panting, me screaming, him grunting, our primal sexual natures overprinting the tea room's pretence at gentility, and refinement.
I don't play to sweat, I play to win.