Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Vented. 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 Vented Quotes And Sayings by 97 Authors including Ali Smith,Jessie Burton,John Le Carre,Sarah Flint,John Forbes for you to enjoy and share.
I went outside mournful, and I hit pure air.
The air is hot, the atmosphere a bruise.
Breath and caught the
shut and slipped into
a total fucking gas
She needed air. There wasn't enough air anymore.
I just need to fucking breathe
sputtered and then
excoriated and burned, mapped and measured and meted
Whacked away under the desk like hail on a barn roof.
Now air can get through.Air-- Frank Zappa
When the world stilled again, ominous silence reigned. Scratch that, not silence exactly. The van's radiator hissed, and someone was groaning. Oh, right. That was me.
A single three-bladed fan turned slowly in the centre of the ceiling, barely disturbing the scorching air which filled the small prefabricated hut like an oven...
Sighing, she shut the book with a snap. All right. You need to vent, so I'll listen to you vent. But do it quickly, because Rydstorm was about to plunder Sabine with his thick, hard -
dimmed completely.
A voice in my head told me I acted like a spoiled brat, but I duct taped that sucker shut. I didn't make it far, though. The seductive cedar smell enveloped me as Lux hoisted me off the ground, threw me over his shoulder and carried me back to the group.
Breathed like a contestant in a polka marathon, sit-up contest, stationary bike race.
Window. I felt anxious and
When you have nothing to say,
set something on fire.
misbegotten cockwaffle.
smouldering away in a fit of impotent rage
There was a pot of boiling rage on a private stove behind their closed curtains:
Thoughts shut up want air, And spoil, like bales unopen'd to the sun.
There was never enough air in the world, but the shortage was particularly acute in that moment.
What air is there left to breathe
Open your mouth wide A universal sigh
Grievance is a sullen little boat, blown in the creepy breeze of ridiculous sighs.
Anger has been ready to be angry.
Someone has farted; no one knows just who, but this isn't like a normal adult place where everybody coolly pretends a fart didn't happen; here everybody has to make their little comment.
I'm losing air over here, you know," Lassiter bitched. "My inflatable is deflating." V cursed. "That's because it doesn't want to be around you any more than we do.
My voice is clotted with unshed tears.
I don't think I can breathe now with you gone.
Discombobulated.
When I was a teenager, I was in an iron-lung.
The incident made me lose the steam in myself but not to worry; this balloon can easily re-inflate itself..." ;)
Anger warms the invention, but overheats the oven.
Already her lungs screamed for air.
Dizzied, thrilled, depressed by remembering ...
Zapped while zipping.
I flamed amazement
Ventilation is the profound secret of existence.
I was brooding, boy. Than which there is no richer pastime. It muffles one with rotting plumes. It gives forth sullen music. It is the smell of home.
Blessed are the sat upon, spat upon, ratted on.
Words cannot express how pissed off I am. I am going to have to invent a new word to explain how angry I am. Karflagled. I am so karflagled off at you right now!" "See,
Something very hot and very explodey had happened, and I wasn't sure what. Or how.
Sometimes I grow
so tired of speaking
my emotions to you.
I open my mouth
and dust spills out
instead of feelings.
Dust, and the yellow
wings of moths,
and brittle paper,
scrawled over
with riddles that
lack solutions.
Troubles when voiced are carried away on the wind; they have no place uopn which to perch.
An oven that is stopp'd, or river stay'd,
Burneth more hotly, swelleth with more rage:
So of concealed sorrow may be said;
Free vent of words love's fire doth assuage;
But when the heart's attorney once is mute,
The client breaks, as desperate in his suit.
I'm glad of it, that's one of your foolish extravagances, sending flowers and things to girls for whom you don't care two pins," continued Jo reprovingly. "Sensible girls for whom I do care whole papers of pins won't let me send them 'flowers and things', so what can I do? My feelings need a 'vent'.
I'm exhausted from not talking.
At the rear of the bus, the driver wrenched a big chunk of smoking metal out of the engine compartment. The bus shuddered, and the engine roared back to life.
The passengers cheered.
Darn right!" yelled the driver. He slapped the bus with his hat. "Everybody get back on board!
And, he added with a laugh, you don't ever notice your oxygen until it's gone: something goes wrong with the HVAC, even for fifteen minutes, and people are ready to riot.
Anger ventilated often hurries toward forgiveness; and concealed often hardens into revenge
I got a heart full of pain, head full of stress, handfull of anger, held in my chest.
Indignation. Best fuel I know. Never burns out.
My wife complained
At that moment i felt lonelier than i'd ever felt before, and that loneliness seemed to squat in my lungs and crush all but my most minimal breathing. There was nothing left to say. Not about this. Not about anything.
A fire had begun to spread in me. It was burning now in my stomach and my lungs were dry as old leaves, my heart had a herded pressure which gave promise to explode.
A wall of heat. The furnace had to be turned up almost to eighty,
Got me as fussed as a fart in a mitten.
rolled down. As I
Dumped doesn't even begin to describe it. If you're going to use a trash metaphor, incinerated is more like it.
His nostrils flared, he was breathing like a picadored bull.
There was a sound you could smell / like you were inhaling tomorrow.
How impotent my anger was, a surge with no place to land, and how familiar that was: my feelings strangled inside me, like little half-formed children, bitter and bristling.
There was no sign of Jules.
"Bad news," said Elliot. "The man is sick. You're going to have to settle for me."
"Sick?" Vee demanded. "How sick? What kind of excuse is sick?"
"Sick as in it's coming out both ends."
Vee scrunched her nose. "Too much information.
Stung by the splendour of a sudden thought.
I burned too bright. I saw too much.
The Inspector stood up. Worried. Fonso Spalato fell silent.
'What's wrong?' he said, ready to jump out of his chair and start running.
'Do you mind if I whinny again?' the inspector politely asked
RVM Thoughts for Today -
Some people emit negative fumes, while others vibrate POSITIVE ENERGY. Stay close to the Positive ones; otherwise you will be smoked to death.
Her computer's fan whirred to life, blowing warm air onto her fingers. Two flame-red slits glowed from the monitor. The speakers boomed. "I lived! I died! I live again!"
Olivie had dealt with blue screens, frozen hourglasses, and even the odd hardware conflict back in the day. This was new.
senseless, senseless coughs of emotion
distraught. It seems he claims
In the hollow steel-lined bin, my unfortunate eruption resonated such that it would have humiliated me if my first concern had been social acceptance. My first concern, however, was survival. At the moment, I didn't have the capacity for embarrassment because terror filled me.
I was pissed-off walking. Or rather pissed-off sitting, tangled in crimson silk sheets that smelled like somebody'd been having a sexathon.
That would be me.
And that made me even madder.
The air smelled of gunpowder when Daniel emerged from the Angel tube stop and headed for Islington Police Station. It was midsummer and airless, the moon slipping unseen into a bright, troubled sky. The day was gravid, ready to burst. As
Ventriloquism today is in a slump.
Fear and doubt bloated in his lower extremities and the gas from the created cloud steamed upward and into the recesses of his soul.
Hayduke smelled something foul in all this. A smoldering bitterness warmed his heart and nerves; the slow fires of anger kept his cockles warm, his hackles rising. Hayduke burned. And he was not a patient man.
Outrage alternated with a sweaty fear he had never before felt. Something, it seemed to him was being drained from him, leaving the body feeling like a very dry sponge, very light, completely at the mercy of sly toying gusts of wind.
In spite of the air conditioning, she had filled the lounge with a faint sharp-sweet odor of large overheated girl.
Sickness seizes the body from bad ventilation.
I let my anger consume me."
"It's understandable," she said.
"It may be understandable," replied Pug, "but it is no more forgivable for being understandable.
I'm not very firey, but when I go, I go. I don't shout, I just get upset.
I was in that painful condition which occurs when one has lost one's first wind and has not yet got one's second.
A dingily bilious sun was seeping through a tent of black clouds. Passersby, spitefully elbowing elbows, were rushing along the pavement. People thronging the doorways of shops tried to pummel their way through and stuck fast, their faces flushed with spite and fury, their teeth bared.
What did you do?" "Blew up a fuel depot, stole twelve rockets and made off with them in a stolen van, got kidnapped by a maniac, and had dinner with a guy who farted fire." "That would be funny, but I'm worried it's all true." "It's been a long couple days." "Did he really fart fire?" Morelli asked.
I don't know how to blow stuff up. You were hurting, and I wanted to help, but I didn't know how, so I blew something up.
The heating system was a farce, depending as it did on registers in the floor wherefrom the tepid exhalations of a throbbing and groaning basement furnace were transmitted to the rooms with the faintness of a moribund's last breath.
You are the window I open when it's hard to breathe.
Frustration mingled with despair in my
heart.
Anger is a fuel that can only carry you so far.
burning with curiosity
Kitty, if only you knew how I sometimes boil under so many gibes and jeers. And I don't know how long I shall be able to stifle my rage. I shall just blow up one day. Still,
Panting like a marathon runner at mile twenty, overheated bloodhound, steam engine crawling up the Continental Divide.
I'm so angry it feels my blood's on fire. If I didn't bank it with calm, I might burn the place to the ground.
To waste one's breath; to pump into a sieve.
I dropped a word from the string of negative adjectives that had trailed behind me like tin cans behind the village idiot. Unappreciated, unloved, unmarried. But no longer unpublished.
I have only one way to blow the steam off, i make money, you spend money thats funny,now i'm smilling like thats honey
Air, an undervalued necessity, that earns your gratitude when you inhale it for the last time