Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Plaque. 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 Plaque Quotes And Sayings by 94 Authors including Lily King,Carl Hiaasen,Junot Diaz,Gertrude Stein,Bhartrhari for you to enjoy and share.
mind Nell was writing: - ornamentation of neck, wrists, fingers - paint on face only
Carla Crumworthy, heiress to the Crumworthy panty-shield fortune. She had come to complain about the collagen injections that Rudy Graveline had administered to give her full, sensual lips, which is just what every rheumatoid seventy-one-year-old woman
Each morning, before Jackie started her studies, she wrote on a clean piece of paper: Tarde venientibus ossa.
To the latecomers are left the bones.
A light white, a disgras, an ink spot, a rosy charm.
The pearl on my beloved's neck, Afflicted sore the oyster!
A disease which new and obscure to you, Doctor, will be known only after death; and even then not without an autopsy will you examine it with exacting pains. But rare are those among the extremely busy clinicians who are willing or capable of doing this correctly.
Very bright teeth as big and orderly as piano keys.
The greater involution and deeper patina of her left tooth in comparison to the right, the skeptical cast
An elderly man called Keith Mislaid his set of false teeth - They'd been laid on a chair, He'd forgot they were there, Sat down, and was bitten beneath. Irish limerick
A prettiness mummified by years of chalk dust.
O tongue you are an endless treasure. O tongue, you are also an endless disease.
His body was worn and weathered, his skin scratched with lines mapping the miles of his life.
A pattern of raised crisscrossed scars, some old and white, others more recent in various shades of pink and red. Exposing the stress of the structure underneath its paint
Mouth cat's-cradled with filaments of gleaming cheese.
depositions - and
SOME PEOPLE LIKE TO NIBBLE ON
THE INSIDES OF THEIR OWN CHEEKS.
IV'E SEEN AN OTHERWISE LOVELY GIRL
CONTORT HER FACE TO REACH A FAVORITE SPOT.
THERE ARE BIT LINES WHERE REPEATED NIPS
HAVE BUILT RIDGES OF SCAR TISSUE.
The teeth of the smile evidenced a clinical depressive's classic inattention
to oral hygiene.
The itch of scribbling.
I hang my head over these knuckles, over these pale, veined wrists which I hardly recognize as mine, finding myself overcome by a new enemy, one I never expected: the chill of old age.
What," asked Mr Croup, "do you want?"
"What," asked the Marquis de Carabas, a little more rhetorically, "does anyone want?"
"Dead things," suggested Mr Vandemar. "Extra teeth.
In this book, I want to share with you some extraordinary observations that I have made in my 50 years in dentistry. I believe these experiences made me a better dentist and played a significant role in my evolution as a human being.
varieties of sunken cheek, cadaverous
There is a lump of desolation beneath the bony dip at my throat. It is no bigger than a coin, this spot, a peculiarly small place to hold such a feeling. I try to shove it to some deeper region, but there it sticks, a fragile skin-thickness from the outside world.
Once one has kissed a cadaver's forehead, there always remains something of it on the lips, an infinite bitterness, an aftertasteof nothingness that nothing can erase.
The disease which had thus entombed the lady in the maturity of youth, had left, as usual in all maladies of a strictly cataleptical character, the mockery of a faint blush upon the bosom and the face, and that suspiciously lingering smile upon the lip which is so terrible in death
I've left this life with no rancour, I'll never have toothache again, Now I lie in the communal grave, the communal grave of time.
There is rust in my mouth,the stain of an old kiss.
Crack'd in pieces by malignant Death.
One can grow accustomed to carrying unseeable scars, as if the tattoo one wears is inked in flesh tone over flesh tone; but nevertheless one is still covered in secret, painted with secret, stained by it.
dentition and witch-like pointed features.
What a beautiful and chaste-looking mouth! from floor to ceiling, lines, or rather papered with a glistening white membrane, glossy as bridal satins.
A mark on one arm like the one I bore. Here, in this time, the mark of sorcery, the mark of a magus. The small, homely scar of a smallpox vaccination.
Wrinkles ought to be worn as a badge of honour, as a mark of survival if not wisdom.
Bug on the wall.
I live with carpe diem engrave on my heart.
I have erected amonument more lasting than bronze.
There was cement in her soul. It had been there for a while, an early morning disease of fatigue, shapeless desires, brief imaginary glints of other lives she could be living, that over the months melded into a piercing homesickness.
If anyone bothered to search through the laurel bordering the asphalt he'd surely find handfuls of teeth that were said to give the laurel its odd milky color, ivory with a pale pink edge, each blossom forming the shape of a bitter man's mouth.
Where the label had peeled
There is probably no moment more appalling than that in which the tongue comes suddenly upon the ragged edge of a space from which the old familiar filling has disappeared.
He had an orange stain on his mouth from the prawns, the old jabberwock.
was a parasite with nasty teeth,
I put my hand in my pocket and squeeze my rocks and wonder if there is a word for the marks you get on your palm when you squeeze something so hard that the skin is on the verge of ripping.
Memories demand attention, and these memories will have teeth.
Time is running out to permeate the piece.
A portrait is a painting with something wrong with the mouth.
The ivy of the old age begins at the feet that hurt. (Le lierre de la vieillesse - Commence aux pieds qui blessent.)
The whitewash'd wall, the nicely sanded floor, The varnish'd clock that click'd behind the door; The chest, contriv'd a double debt to pay,- A bed by night, a chest of drawers by day.
Rivers of wrinkles flowing down from the corners of this eyes and mouth.
Old age is - a lot of crossed off names in an address book.
a furtive groove
One of the candidates running for governor is a 100-year-old woman. Yeah, the 100-year-old says she'd like to recall Governor Gray Davis, but more importantly, she'd like to recall where she left her teeth.
A knife wound heals, but a tongue wound festers.
Ah, you mean the thing with the brass plate on it saying 'Improved Manicure Device,' Archchancellor?
Nitric acid. Lampblack. Furniture, like all living things, acquired marks and scars over the course of time. The effects of time, visible and invisible.
A cave of scars!
ancient, archaic wallpaper
built up, layer on layer
from the earliest, dream-white
to yesterday's, a red-black scrawl
a red mouth slowly closing
A year on, Eleanor remained haunted by what happened to her. She still had no idea where the bacteria came from. Perhaps the foot soak and pedicure she had gotten at a small hair-and-nail shop the day before that wedding.
granite headland, drawing ever closer, looks like an unholy tooth, something black and dangerous,
Dentopedology is the science of opening your mouth and putting your foot in it. I've been practicing it for years.
And Sunny crawled around solemnly biting each of Edgar and Albert's shoes, leaving small teeth marks in each one so she would not be forgotten.
A blot in thy escutcheon to all futurity.
three lines etched into its surface,
Cruddy Mouthbreather
Only she began to be afraid of the ghastly white tombstones, that peculiar loathsome whiteness of Carrara marble, detestable as false teeth, which stuck up on the hillside, under Tevershall church, and which she saw with such grim painfulness from the park.
Everyone had very uncreased necks, which meant no prolonged inclining of the head, which meant no reading. Linda's own neck looked like a finger, but she reassured herself that the creases were like tree rings marking her substance.
Blasted grave marker. There sure are a bloody lot of them. They've got some nerve burying all these dead people here.
crystals that stung your
Was it a sign of Creeping Decrepitude?
A sneer is like a flame; it may occasionally be curative because it cauterizes, but it leaves a bitter scar.
Tombstones covered the dale, the smooth marble surfaces bright. She had spent days here as a teenager, though not out of any awareness of mortality. Like every adolescent, she intended to live forever.
What is this word that broke through the fence of your teeth, Atreides?
Germ of endearment
I have walked the earth for thirty years and, out of gratitude, want to leave some souvenir.
She had a chain of blue forget-me-nots tattooed around her left wrist.
The gaps are part of the set, too," she'd said. "You can't replace them. I know how each piece was broken or lost. I broke a plate myself when I was nine. Now I'm an immortal part of the pattern. I'll take my gaps, thank you.
A most malicious cough
Nothing soothes me more after a long and maddening course of pianoforte recitals than to sit and have my teeth drilled.
A bone heals, a bruise fades, but art is forever
An infallible Remedy for the Tooth-ach, viz Wash the Root of an aching Tooth, in Elder Vinegar, and let it dry half an hour in the Sun; after which it will never ach more; Probatum est.
Sculpture is the art of the hole and the lump.
A stone is ingrained with geological and historical memories.
It must sound stupid, but it was I realized that for rest of my life, till death do us part, it was on me to maintain this veneer's sparkly free, streak-free shine.
Pain engraves a deeper memory.
...He was succeeded by a gentleman who gazed at the Brussels sprouts and asked if the funny little knobs on the stalks were a form of disease. I told him yes. Eczema.
Ah, what a grudge I owe physicians! what mummery is their art!
All of these teeth had once been in real, live people. They had talked and smiled and eaten and sang and cursed and prayed. They had brushed and flossed and died. In English class, we read poems about death, but here, right in front of me was a poem about death too.
inferred by the pattern to either side, the small pyramidal bumps rising from the flat steel with their crisp edges and flecks of paint. Holston lifted an old boot to an old step, pressed down,
The teeth! - the teeth! - they were here, and there, and everywhere, and visibly and palpably before me; long, narrow, and excessively white, with the pale lips writhing about them, as in the very moment of their first terrible development.
This is death. I don't want it to tarry awhile so I can write a monograph. I want it to go away for seventy or eighty years.
The skin of moss / holds the footprints of / star-footed birds.
All her life she had wanted to squeeze the toothpaste really squeeze it,not just one little squirt ... The paste coiled and swirled and mounded in the washbasin. Ramona decorated the mound with toothpaste roses as if it was a toothpaste birthday cake
Carve not upon a stone when I am dead, The praises which remorseful mourners give; To women's graves - a tardy recompense, But speak them while I live.
Wrinkles on the brow are the imprints of exploits.
There is a lady dancing on a cracked plate. A withered spider on the carpet. A piano with a full set of yellowed teeth.
An unedified palate is the irrepressible cloven foot of the upstart. The
Century and after century, headstones and grave markers were crafted, marble shrines to lost life and to bodies that could neither see nor touch nor think nor feel, bodies that were respected and appreciated more after death than some ever could have hoped to be in life.
When they mention great little things in life, they usually forget flossing.
systematically looking at each of the fly-covered tattoos on one of the walls.
Growing older is a blurred birth certificate that only can take us to this world's perplexed journey, but it cannot smear the letters of the epitaph
Shiny teeth were footnote to her smile.