--- DICTIONARIES (in Dictionaries, in Quotes, in Chapters)

nausea ::: n. --> Seasickness; hence, any similar sickness of the stomach accompanied with a propensity to vomit; qualm; squeamishness of the stomach; loathing.

nauseant ::: n. --> A substance which produces nausea.

nauseated ::: imp. & p. p. --> of Nauseate

nauseate ::: v. i. --> To become squeamish; to feel nausea; to turn away with disgust. ::: v. t. --> To affect with nausea; to sicken; to cause to feel loathing or disgust.
To sicken at; to reject with disgust; to loathe.

nauseating ::: p. pr. & vb. n. --> of Nauseate

nauseation ::: n. --> The act of nauseating, or the state of being nauseated.

nauseative ::: a. --> Causing nausea; nauseous.

nausea ::: n. --> Seasickness; hence, any similar sickness of the stomach accompanied with a propensity to vomit; qualm; squeamishness of the stomach; loathing.

nauseant ::: n. --> A substance which produces nausea.

nauseated ::: imp. & p. p. --> of Nauseate

nauseate ::: v. i. --> To become squeamish; to feel nausea; to turn away with disgust. ::: v. t. --> To affect with nausea; to sicken; to cause to feel loathing or disgust.
To sicken at; to reject with disgust; to loathe.

nauseating ::: p. pr. & vb. n. --> of Nauseate

nauseation ::: n. --> The act of nauseating, or the state of being nauseated.

nauseative ::: a. --> Causing nausea; nauseous.

--- QUOTES [2 / 2 - 500 / 618] (in Dictionaries, in Quotes, in Chapters)

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1:I have had to experience so much stupidity, so many vices, so much error, so much nausea, disillusionment and sorrow, just in order to become a child again and begin anew. I had to experience despair, I had to sink to the greatest mental depths, to thoughts of suicide, in order to experience grace. ~ Hermann Hesse, Siddhartha ,

2:What is the ape to a human? A laughing stock or a painful embarrassment. And that is precisely what the human shall be to the overman: a laughing stock or a painful embarrassment.You have made your way from worm to human, and much in you is still worm. Once you were apes, and even now a human is still more ape than any ape.But whoever is wisest among you is also just a conflict and a cross between plant and ghost. But do I implore you to become ghosts or plants?Behold, I teach you the overman!The overman is the meaning of the earth. Let your will say: the overman shall be the meaning of the earth!I beseech you, my brothers, remain faithful to the earth and do not believe those who speak to you of extraterrestrial hopes! They are mixers of poisons whether they know it or not.They are despisers of life, dying off and self-poisoned, of whom the earth is weary: so let them fade away!Once the sacrilege against God was the greatest sacrilege, but God died, and then all these desecrators died. Now to desecrate the earth is the most terrible thing, and to esteem the bowels of the unfathomable higher than the meaning of the earth!Once the soul gazed contemptuously at the body, and then such contempt was the highest thing: it wanted the body gaunt, ghastly, starved.Thus it intended to escape the body and the earth.Oh this soul was gaunt, ghastly and starved, and cruelty was the lust of this soul!But you, too, my brothers, tell me: what does your body proclaim about your soul? Is your soul not poverty and filth and a pitiful contentment?Truly, mankind is a polluted stream. One has to be a sea to take in a polluted stream without becoming unclean.Behold, I teach you the overman: he is this sea, in him your great contempt can go under.What is the greatest thing that you can experience? It is the hour of your great contempt. The hour in which even your happiness turns to nausea and likewise your reason and your virtue.The hour in which you say: 'What matters my happiness? It is poverty and filth, and a pitiful contentment. But my happiness ought to justify existence itself!' ~ Friedrich Nietzsche, Thus Spoke Zarathustra trans. Fred Kaufmann,

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1:life goes on ad nauseam. ~ Gary R Renard

2:Advertisements at 1 a.m. are nauseating. ~ H V Morton

3:All this nobility is really nauseating. ~ Holly Black

4:Everybody worships me, it's nauseating. ~ Noel Coward

5:slightest touch or movement brought on nausea ~ Vince Flynn

6:All things nauseating and deadly are American, ~ Lauren Groff

7:Gripped by nausea, Crokus fell to his knees. ~ Steven Erikson

8:I exist, that is all, and I find it nauseating. ~ Jean Paul Sartre

9:There is a very fine line between love and nausea. ~ James Earl Jones

10:There are few things as nauseating as pure obedience. ~ Patrick Rothfuss

11:The word "noise" is derived from the Latin word nausea. ~ Michael Finkel

12:The word “noise” is derived from the Latin word nausea. ~ Michael Finkel

13:Please don’t get sentimental,” said Jerome. “It’s nauseating. ~ Richelle Mead

14:No one dies of nausea, but it can seriously sap the will to live. ~ Yann Martel

15:Did you know babies are nauseated by the smell of a clean shirt? ~ Jeff Foxworthy

16:I nauseate walking; 'tis a country diversion, I loathe the country. ~ William Congreve

17:One piece of pie is delicious. Fourteen pieces are obviously nauseating. ~ Chuck Barris

18:Thing are bad! Things are very bad: I have it, the filth, the Nausea. ~ Jean Paul Sartre

19:Racking back pain can mold an identity; fatigue and nausea can, as well. ~ Paul Kalanithi

20:I knew what love was supposed to be: obsession with undertones of nausea. ~ Margaret Atwood

21:You need your nausea. It is a message. It will tell us what is wrong with you. ~ Johann Hari

22:The scent and smoke and sweat of a casino are nauseating at three in the morning. ~ Ian Fleming

23:Allora non v'importa più di nulla? M'importa tanto, che ho la nausea di tutto. ~ Ray Bradbury

24:Finally, nausea at my own ballooning sense of self wore me down and I slept. (17) ~ Shani Mootoo

25:all touch starting to sicken, as if the cells of my skin were individually nauseated ~ Maggie Nelson

26:When we're healthy we respond to the presence of the hateful with fear and nausea. ~ Anthony Burgess

27:I wouldn't write a book, because saying the word I over and over again would nauseate me. ~ John Kluge

28:A study shows breast implants can cause nausea and dizziness... from all the free drinks. ~ Craig Kilborn

29:Rich, ornate prose is hard to digest, generally unwholesome, and sometimes nauseating. ~ William Strunk Jr

30:Fahlberg is a scoundrel. It nauseates me to hear my name mentioned in the same breath with him. ~ Ira Remsen

31:We are nauseated by the sight of trivial personalities decomposing in the eternity of print. ~ Virginia Woolf

32:I have tried lately to read Shakespeare, and found it so intolerably dull that it nauseated me ~ Charles Darwin

33:All things nauseating and deadly are American, apparently. Well, okay, she can't disagree. ~ Lauren Groff

34:Blood may be thicker than water, but it is still sticky, unpleasant and generally nauseating. ~ Janeane Garofalo

35:Dancing in zero G is like virgin sex – scary, exhilarating, nauseating, awkward, yet liberating. ~ Travis Luedke

36:I have tried lately to read Shakespeare, and found it so intolerably dull that it nauseated me. ~ Charles Darwin

37:I hate a hook. It nauseates me. I could vomit when I see one. It's like a rattlesnake in your pocket. ~ Ben Hogan

38:Noise harms your body and boils your brain. The word "noise" derives from the Latin word nausea. ~ Michael Finkel

39:I was like one of those nauseatingly nice children. I was very, very well behaved and boring. ~ Helena Bonham Carter

40:The idea that his wedding band was some kind of talisman nauseated him like the smell of attar. ~ Stephen R Donaldson

41:For Celia, her whole surround was animate, and each tapioca lump had a dense, nauseating little soul. ~ Lionel Shriver

42:How to follow orders when you're bordering on nausea and you're bored and insecure and dwarfed by fear. ~ Kate Tempest

43:I repeatedly refuse to make any practical decisions. I get a feeling of nausea about practicality. ~ Francesco Clemente

44:Change, I've come to understand, rises up like nausea: the promise of relief is what makes it bearable. ~ Durga Chew Bose

45:I hope to find the roles that are age appropriate but not yearning to be younger, or parenting ad nauseam. ~ Debra Winger

46:They awoke, nauseated and tired, dispirited with life, capable only of one pervasive emotion – fear. ~ F Scott Fitzgerald

47:People. You must love people. Men are admirable. I want to vomit—and suddenly, there it is: the Nausea ~ Jean Paul Sartre

48:She ought to try eating raw ham in bed in the morning before breakfast. It really does help against nausea  ~ Helen Rappaport

49:I’m nauseatingly pro-American. I would have come here from any country. The U.S. is where great things are possible. ~ Elon Musk

50:Nothing was more nauseating than people who constantly complained about their life, but did nothing about it. ~ Sonia Farnsworth

51:A wave of nausea seized him and Macro feared that he might pass out. ‘The fuck I will,’ he growled to himself. He ~ Simon Scarrow

52:Nausea is an unsolved problem of medicine and marijuana is the finest anti-nausea medication known to science. ~ Peter McWilliams

53:I equate love (bodies touching indecently) to the limitlessness of being – to nausea, to the sun, and to death. ~ Georges Bataille

54:You have much in common with bad chicken salad...Nausea inducing occasionally deadly. A smell that is decidedly off... ~ Rob Thurman

55:To look back at all past work induces nausea [...] It's like taking a tour of a cell in which you were once incarcerated. ~ Zadie Smith

56:People who don’t get seasick have no idea what it’s like. It’s not just nausea. It’s nausea plus losing the will to live. ~ Maria Semple

57:The separation deepened our commitment and gave our love a new distance-makes-the-heart-grow-fonder dimension. Nauseating, ~ Harlan Coben

58:People label themselves with all sorts of adjectives. I can only pronounce myself as 'nauseatingly miserable beyond repair'. ~ Franz Kafka

59:Cancer is my own private war. The strain, the nausea, the fever take turns challenging my strength, my mind and my spirit. ~ Farrah Fawcett

60:In every area, we seem to have thrown everything away and embraced reality television. Its nauseating, programme after programme. ~ Ken Stott

61:A wave of nausea came over me. And yet. Sometimes you need a stroke of genius and, lo and behold, genius comes and strokes you ~ Nicole Krauss

62:I hated smoking. The smell alone was enough to nauseate me. But right then, more than anything, I wanted to be that cigarette. ~ Dani Alexander

63:Oh, knowing's easy. Everyone does that ad nauseam. I just sort of hope. Doctor Who "State of Decay," Seies 18, ep. 4 ~ Terrance Dicks

64:There’s the neurotic mother who’s so demanding that the sound of her voice over the phone can cause instant nausea in her daughters. ~ Pat Conroy

65:Wherever nauseated time has dropped a nice fat turd you will find our patriots, sniffing it up on all fours, their faces on fire. ~ Samuel Beckett

66:From the period when I wrote La Nausea I wanted to create a morality. My evolution consists in my no longer dreaming of doing so. ~ Jean Paul Sartre

67:He must love me, i thought, amazed. A faint whiff of nausea hit me at seeing pain as proof of love, but it seemed true. Unavoidable. ~ Katherine Dunn

68:A man can make himself put down what comes, even if it seems nauseating nonsense; tomorrow some of it may not seem wholly nonsense at all. ~ F L Lucas

69:There was a sweetness in my voice I found nauseating. I made a note to myself never to have children. Or at least not helpless children. ~ Tod Goldberg

70:Writer-director John Roecker's debut, Live Freaky! Die Freaky! will have you convulsing on the floor ... with nausea, laughter, or both. ~ John Roecker

71:One can no longer live with people: it is too hideous and nauseating. Owners and owned, they are like the two sides of a ghastly disease. ~ D H Lawrence

72:I suffer from a chronic nausea—after I’m with people. The awareness (after-awareness) of how programmed I am, how insincere, how frightened. ~ Susan Sontag

73:Ellen laughs, as we’ve both made fun of those nauseating Facebook posts that use a religious concept to justify their thinly veiled bragging. ~ Emily Giffin

74:Existential nausea comes from feeling trapped. It is an affect state resulting from the feeling that the future has only bad options. ~ Kim Stanley Robinson

75:The history of our era is the nauseating and repulsive history of the crucifixion of the procreative body for the glorification ofthe spirit. ~ D H Lawrence

76:The walls gleamed nauseatingly under the humming fluorescent tubes, and it was kind of like walking down someone’s well-lit large intestine. ~ Daniel O Malley

77:Addy's heart beat so hard she could feel her pulse pounding in her eardrums. At the same time, waves of nausea crashed in the pit of her stomach. ~ Robin Caroll

78:In a way, the nausea was worse than the pain. Pain can be drowned, but nausea eats through even the most delicious opiates and cutting chemicals. ~ Claire North

79:I refuse to ‘look up.’ Optimism nauseates me. It is perverse. Since man’s fall, his proper position in the universe has been one of misery. ~ John Kennedy Toole

80:I refuse to "look up." Optimism nauseates me. It is perverse. Since man's fall, his proper position in the universe has been one of misery. ~ John Kennedy Toole

81:The physical signs of measles are nearly the same as those of smallpox, but nausea and inflammation is more severe, though the pains in the back are less. ~ Avicenna

82:It made me feel silenced, lonely, and far away from myself, a feeling that I believe, next to extreme nausea sans vomiting, is the depth of human misery. ~ Lena Dunham

83:Is rule of thumb in writing game: if story requires many long descriptions of smells so vile that will give reader nausea, is not likely to find publisher. ~ Dean Koontz

84:I ate while I was taking chemo. The doctors didn't know. I really didn't get any nausea. I didn't have side effects. I would be drained for a day and a half. ~ Eric Davis

85:They’d been pinned down with thumbscrews of truth, preferring the monotony of melancholy to the nauseating highs and lows of hope and inevitable disappointment. ~ Jamie Ford

86:Here’s the thing. Do you get seasick? People who don’t get seasick have no idea what it’s like. It’s not just nausea. It’s nausea plus losing the will to live. ~ Maria Semple

87:The signs had been ignored, by me, but they had been there. The theatrical nausea, the throwing up in trash bins, in front of the doors to the philosophy class. ~ Julie Hockley

88:Everything is gratuitous, this garden, this city and myself. When you suddenly realize it, it makes you feel sick and everything begins to drift…that’s nausea. ~ Jean Paul Sartre

89:The Nausea has not left me and I don't believe it will leave me so soon; but I no longer have to bear it, it is no longer an illness or a passing fit: it is I. ~ Jean Paul Sartre

90:I even made myself a cup of chamomile tea, the nauseating sweet smell wafting up from my chipped coffee cup like a hot diaper. This was supposed to be relaxing? ~ Ottessa Moshfegh

91:I have no taste for work any longer, I can do nothing more except wait for night. 530: Things are bad! Things are very bad: I have it, the filth, the Nausea. ~ Jean Paul Sartre

92:I watched four volleyball games running simultaneously. Remembering how many injuries I had sustained—and inflicted—playing volleyball, I felt faintly nauseated. ~ Stephenie Meyer

93:Disregarding the fact that I am old enough to be [Walter] Schellenberg's mother, I would feel nauseated to be coupled with a man whose ideology has debased our hearts. ~ Coco Chanel

94:Give someone who has faith in you a placebo and call it a hair growing pill, anti-nausea pill or whatever, and you will be amazed at how many respond to your therapy. ~ Bernie Siegel

95:Meat is not agreeable to the wise: it has a nauseating odor, it causes a bad reputation, it is food for the carnivorous; I say this, Mahamati, it is not to be eaten. ~ Gautama Buddha

96:We laughed. Ha, ha, we went. Ha, ha, ha. I’m not laughing now. Never has a joke filled me with such nausea and paranoia and insecurity and self-pity and dread and doubt. ~ Nick Hornby

97:Delusions are often functional. A mother's opinions about her children's beauty, intelligence, goodness, et cetera ad nauseam, keep her from drowning them at birth. ~ Robert A Heinlein

98:Everything is gratuitous, this garden, this city and myself. When you suddenly realize it, it makes you feel sick and everything begins to drift . . . that's nausea. ~ Jean Paul Sartre

99:There was no up, there was no down. There was a steady, nauseated life five minutes ago, but nothing five minutes from now. And then, very suddenly, there was no 'now. ~ Paige Harbison

100:Far commoner, and perhaps the most intolerable of all aura symptoms, is intense sudden vertigo accompanied by staggering, overwhelming nausea, and frequently vomiting. The ~ Oliver Sacks

101:I have had to experience so much stupidity, so many vices, so much error, so much nausea, disillusionment and sorrow, just in order to become a child again and begin anew. ~ Hermann Hesse

102:The Nausea is not inside me: I feel it out there in the wall, in the suspenders, everywhere around me. It makes itself one with the café, I am the one who is within it. ~ Jean Paul Sartre

103:One will feel the same subtle nausea coming into the city or waiting to depart from it that one feels now in such plastic catacombs as O'Hare's reception center in Chicago. ~ Norman Mailer

104:Repudiating the virtues of your world, criminals hopelessly agree to organize a forbidden universe. They agree to live in it. The air there is nauseating. They can breathe it. ~ Jean Genet

105:Repudiating the virtues of your world, criminals hopelessly agree to organize a forbidden universe. They agree to live in it. The air there is nauseating: they can breathe it. ~ Jean Genet

106:The truth is that I can’t put down my pen: I think I’m going to have the Nausea and I feel as though I’m delaying it while writing. So I write whatever comes into my mind. ~ Jean Paul Sartre

107:You define a good flight by negatives: you didn't get hijacked, you didn't crash, you didn't throw up, you weren't late, you weren't nauseated by the food. So you are grateful. ~ Paul Theroux

108:You define a good flight by negatives: you didn’t get hijacked, you didn’t crash, you didn’t throw up, you weren’t late, you weren’t nauseated by the food. So you are grateful. ~ Paul Theroux

109:All those pathetic lonely people fooling one another into their clumsy games of afterlife and cosmic relevance just to avoid noticing the nauseating sadness of their real lives. ~ Edgar Cantero

110:I get a little nauseated, perhaps, when I hear the phrase 'freedom of the press' used as freely as it is, knowing that a large part of our proprietorial press is not free at all. ~ Harold Wilson

111:Democracy is susceptible to being led astray by having scapegoats paraded in front of the electorate. Get the rich, the greedy, the criminals, the stupid leader and so on ad nauseam. ~ Frank Herbert

112:From riding nearly fifty miles in one day on a horse, I learned that the fifteen feet of silk tied tightly around the midriff actually kept the organs in place and prevented nausea. ~ Jack Weatherford

113:There's something I find highly embarrassing about it. As soon as I think I've written something smart, the next day I've got nausea, thinking, "Don't even try to be smart, it's absurd." ~ Lou Doillon

114:9.01 Nausea catalogs the indigestible contents of the stomach that are to be brought up. 9.02 Memory that is nauseating catalogs the contents of the mind that can never be brought up. ~ E L Doctorow

115:Every page must explode, whether through seriousness, profundity, turbulence, nausea, the new, the eternal, annihilating nonsense, enthusiasm for principles, or the way it is printed. ~ Francis Picabia

116:Brummel would rush upon his plate & gulp down a roast in such a revolting manner that the other guests complained they were nauseated and Brummel had to be fed in his room ………. ~ William S Burroughs

117:So I am about to be a free man again, to wander where I please. I find the prospect nauseating. I think that tonight I will hand Howard W, Campbell, Jr., for crimes against himself. ~ Kurt Vonnegut

118:Tallulah [Bankhead] was the foremost naughty girl of her era but, in those days, "naughty" meant piquant, whereas values have so changed that now, in the 1970s, it generally means nauseating. ~ Anita Loos

119:But depression wasn’t the word. This was a plunge encompassing sorrow and revulsion far beyond the personal: a sick, drenching nausea at all humanity and human endeavor from the dawn of time. ~ Donna Tartt

120:I have done no passably decent job in this world which did not at first seem to me useless - absurdly useless, useless to the point of nausea. My secret demon is called:;: What's the use? ~ Georges Bernanos

121:The delights of lust terminate in languishment and dejection; the object thou burnest for nauseates with satiety, and no sooner hadst thou possessed it, but thou wert weary of its presence. ~ Robert Dodsley

122:The readiness to blame a dead pilot for an accident is nauseating, but it has been the tendency ever since I can remember. What pilot has not been in positions where he was in danger and ~ Charles Lindbergh

123:If you are unhappy, even the moon irritates you, sweet things nauseate, music disturbs. When you are calm and centered inside, noise is musical, clouds are magical, rain is liquid love. ~ Sri Sri Ravi Shankar

124:Nothing I have witnessed, from lava to crustacean, assailed me liked the caked debris haunting that small plastic soap hammock in the smaller of the bathrooms. Nausea is not a sufficient word. ~ Werner Herzog

125:He just wasn’t the guy, you know? I want the guy. The everything guy. Not the dumb Prince Charming, nauseatingly-perfect everything guy. That’s pathetic. I want the flaws-and-all everything guy. ~ Jessica Park

126:Nausea’s very subject is the randomness, the contingency, the superfluity, of the world; where better to begin than with Roquentin’s own randomness, his contingency as an invented character? ~ Jean Paul Sartre

127:When I see Liz Taylor with those Harry Winston boulders hanging from her neck I get nauseated. Not figuratively, but nauseated! All I can think of are how many dog shelters those diamonds could buy. ~ Doris Day

128:I keep turning over, although I am not nauseated. No gravity per se. I hope movement isn't by swimming motions here, because I cannot swim. Am I dead? Is this the hell of people who cannot swim? ~ Tade Thompson

129:Christianity was from the beginning, essentially and fundamentally, life's nausea and disgust with life, merely concealed behind, masked by, dressed up as, faith in "another" or "better" life. ~ Friedrich Nietzsche

130:Anybody can be charming if they don't mind faking it, saying all the stupid, obvious, nauseating things that a conscience keeps most people from saying. Happily, I don't have a conscience. I say them. ~ Jeff Lindsay

131:Something bordering on nausea, something like remorse—was that it, then?—began to grip me and seemed to define itself ever more clearly the more I became aware of incipient daylight through our windows. ~ Andr Aciman

132:Every second I stand here in your temperature-controlled cell,” Jenna said, “I’m forced to suck down the same recycled air that’s going through your nostrils, and that thought absolutely nauseates me. ~ Richard Finney

133:Did you know babies are nauseated by the smell of a clean shirt? You put on something from the cleaners, they're gonna spit up just like that. My wardrobe looks like we have condors living in our yard. ~ Jeff Foxworthy

134:The oppressed always learned from and copied the oppressor. When the tables were turned, the stage was set for another round of revenge and violence -- roles reversed. And reversed and reversed ad nauseam. ~ Frank Herbert

135:The felt unreliability of human experience brought about by the inhuman acceleration of historical change has led every sensitive modern mind to the recording of some kind of nausea, of intellectual vertigo. ~ Susan Sontag

136:I felt utterly stripped of safety and love. And so, what tormented me most as I shook through August of 1988 wasn’t the nausea and chills but the recurring fear that I’d never have lasting comfort or joy again. ~ Maia Szalavitz

137:Just as I sit down to meditate, all the vilest subjects in the world come up. The whole thing is nauseating. Why should the mind think thoughts I do not want it to think? I am as it were a slave to the mind. ~ Swami Vivekananda

138:When I was still quite young I had a complete presentiment of life. It was like the nauseating smell of cooking escaping from a ventilator: you don't have to have eaten it to know that it would make you throw up. ~ Julian Barnes

139:Through Clinton and Monica, Clinton and Hillary, the scandal, the impeachment, Iraq, Bruce and Demi, Ellen and Anne, I have remained consistently and nauseatingly adorable. I have, in fact, been known to cause diabetes. ~ Meg Ryan

140:They’re ogling you, dude. Talking about your assets and the fact that you’re nauseatingly ripped, which I would have been had I not bit the dust at seventeen. I’m forever trapped in my tall, gangly phase. (Jesse) ~ Sherrilyn Kenyon

141:Morality has precious little to do with feeling in any case. The fact that you feel a surge of nausea at the sight of someone with half their head shot away is neither here nor there as long as you try to help them. ~ Terry Eagleton

142:IT was the most horrible, the most repellent thing she had ever seen, far more nauseating then anything she had ever imagined with her consious mind, or that had ever tormented her in her most terrible nightmares. ~ Madeleine L Engle

143:Roquentin is visited by a deeper, more philosophical ailment: he falls into bouts of what he calls his “Nausea.” These are episodes in which, afflicted by his sense that there is “absolutely no more reason for living, ~ Jean Paul Sartre

144:How are you feeling?" Charlie asked, adding a small bottle of V-8 juice to the bedside table. "Like I just sat through an entire Justin Bieber concert." "Headache and nausea? "And an overwhelming desire to die. ~ Tammy Blackwell

145:The only problem,” he added, “is that it takes over an hour to cook.” “Over an hour!” The thought of waiting made my head hurt. I hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and my stomach was empty to the point of nausea. ~ Vanessa Diffenbaugh

146:The jury, having swallowed at one nauseating gulp the business of viewing the body, had settled into their places with that air of conscious importance and simulated modesty which belongs to those initiated into a mystery. ~ Josephine Tey

147:My spine healed incorrectly. There were long periods when I'd be perfectly all right, and then there were many other times when I wasn't, when my back would give out and throw me down to the floor amid waves of nauseating pain. ~ Dick York

148:How should followers of Jesus relate to people of other religions? Christianity has a nauseating, infuriating, depressing record when it comes to encountering people of other religions. Jesus accepted everyone and so should we. ~ Tim LaHaye

149:His metaphor of the ‘invisible hand’ has been cited ad nauseam to support the current orthodoxy that markets, left to themselves, may lead to a socially optimal outcome–indeed, more beneficial than if the state intervenes ~ Mariana Mazzucato

150:I had learned to have a perfect nausea for the theatre: the continual repetition of the same words and the same gestures, night after night, and the caprices, the way of looking at life, and the entire rigmarole disgusted me. ~ Isadora Duncan

151:Cualquiera puede ser encantador si no le importa mentir y decir todas las cosas estúpidas, obvias y nauseabundas que la conciencia suele reprimir en la mayoría de la gente. Por suerte, yo no tengo conciencia. Y las digo. -Dexter ~ Jeff Lindsay

152:Food was a responsibility, a ward she was determined to go by, ... She'd force herself through to the last forkful even to the point of nausea, because she didn't understand that it was there for her and not the other way round. ~ Lionel Shriver

153:I believe that access to a university education should be based on the ability to learn, not what people can afford. I think there is no more nauseating a sight than politicians pulling up the ladder of opportunity behind them. ~ Charles Kennedy

154:Sunday lay so heavily in the air as to become almost nauseating. Maigret used to claim openly, half seriously, half in fun, that he had always had the knack of sensing a Sunday from his bed, without even having to open his eyes. ~ Georges Simenon

155:To be silent is not to lose your tongue. On the contrary, it is only through silence that one can discover something new to talk about. One who talked incessantly, without stopping to look and listen, would repeat himself ad nauseam. ~ Alan Watts

156:We had one of those Friday dates that turned into an entire weekend, and by the end of it, I loved him so much my larynx ached. Vulnerable love, incorrigible love. Love in which he was both the nausea and the sodium bicarbonate. ~ Kathleen Rooney

157:So there's nothing more vulgar than the sound of someone saying, God Bless America, someone who doesn't really believe it, but he thinks it will make him look good to other people. I think it's the most nauseating spectacle. ~ Christopher Hitchens

158:Tiré el diario a un rincón y encendí la TV. Después de la nauseabunda página de sociales, hasta los luchadores que aparecían en la pantalla parecían buenos. Lo cual probablemente era cierto. Sobre todo por la página de sociales. ~ Raymond Chandler

159:Penny was surrounded by nauseatingly happy couples. On the one hand, it gave her hope that maybe one day she'd find her perfect match too. But on the other, it highlighted how much of a failure she was in the relationship department. ~ Susannah Nix

160:Is nausea always a manifestation of grief? Who am I to know? I have never been thus before. Grief-stricken. Stricken is right; it is as though you had been felled. Knocked to the ground; pitched out of life and into something else. ~ Penelope Lively

161:He puked a lot now, and there was very little warning—sometimes a flutter of nausea, sometimes a brassy taste in the back of his mouth, and sometimes nothing at all; just urk and out it came, howdy-do. It made driving a risky proposition, ~ Anonymous

162:And I sort of frowned about that, thinking. 'You felt ill this afternoon,' he said, 'because you're getting better. When we're healthy we respond to the presence of the hateful with fear and nausea. You're becoming healthy, that's all. ~ Anthony Burgess

163:I’ve learnt that if you let out your anger on someone, it comes back to you like acid reflux and you’ve poisoned yourself and feel toxic and nauseated while the taxi driver probably just goes back to his home and wife and has a lovely life. I ~ Ruby Wax

164:He laughs. "Having a hard time resisting me after that dance?" "That dance was..." I pretend great interest in my thumbs as I send the video file to my email and close the phone up. "Irresistible? Sensuous? Seductive?" "Nauseating? ~ Stacey Jay

165:Our huffing and puffing to impress God, our scrambling for brownie points, our thrashing about trying to fix ourselves while hiding our pettiness and wallowing in guilt are nauseating to God and are a flat denial of the gospel of grace. ~ Brennan Manning

166:Those old hags downstairs were quite nauseating,' she said after another silence. 'I can't think why we stayed there listening to them. (You because you hunger for social contacts, however squalid. Me to lick the pebble of my unhappiness.) ~ Albert Cohen

167:Everything was going to be all right, she told herself. Every woman got wedding jitters, right? Every woman felt a little nauseated at the thought of her first love on her wedding day. Every woman saw herself lying face down, dead in a pond. ~ B J Daniels

168:THE SCENT and smoke and sweat of a casino are nauseating at three in the morning. Then the soul-erosion produced by high gambling – a compost of greed and fear and nervous tension – becomes unbearable and the senses awake and revolt from it. ~ Ian Fleming

169:At the very least literature should not preen itself on mocking us and picking at our wounds, as modern writers in our days do ad nauseam. All they can write is satire, irony, parody (including self-parody), vicious sarcasm, all steeped in malice. ~ Amos Oz

170:It was my job not just to pluck the chickens but to eviscerate them. I hated that part. Nauseating and disgusting, but it had to be done. That's what I learned from my father and what I loved learning from him: that you do what you have to do. ~ Philip Roth

171:3-D is a waste of a perfectly good dimension. Hollywood's current crazy stampede toward it is suicidal. It adds nothing essential to the moviegoing experience. For some, it is an annoying distraction. For others, it creates nausea and headaches. ~ Roger Ebert

172:Reek took not more than an hour to relate what would've taken the most intelligent man five or six hours--that is, five minutes of speech and the rest of the five hours to recover from the nausea caused by having to utter such shameless rot... ~ Sinclair Lewis

173:then my legs started kicking and jumping. That’s the worst symptom of heroin withdrawal—I can tolerate 225 RUSSELL BRAND the nausea and the sweating, but I hate it when your legs go all kicky. That’s where the phrase “kicking the habit” comes from. ~ Anonymous

174:If you (or any other mammal) bite into rancid food, the insular cortex lights up, causing you to spit it out, gag, feel nauseated, make a revolted facial expression—the insular cortex processes gustatory disgust. Ditto for disgusting smells. ~ Robert M Sapolsky

175:The attitude toward women in this industry is nauseating. There are all sorts of porcine executives who are uncomfortable with a woman doing anything subversive. They want the movie about the beautiful girl who trips and falls, the adorable klutz. ~ Diablo Cody

176:This emotion I'm feeling now, this is love, right?" "I don't know. Is it a longing? Is it a giddy stupid happiness just because you're with me?" "Yes," she said. "That's influenza," said Miro. "Watch for nausea or diarrhea within a few hours. ~ Orson Scott Card

177:To tell the truth, my dear count, I must own that of all nauseating human emanations, literature is one of those which disgust me most. I can see nothing in it but compromise and flattery. And I go so far as to doubt whether it can be anything else. ~ Andr Gide

178:Her heart felt like it had been thrown around like a child on a twenty-foot seesaw--exhilarating highs followed by crashing lows, only to repeat with new joys and terrifying fears. It left her light-headed, off-balance, and a tiny bit nauseated. ~ Karen Witemeyer

179:Why was I not overcome with nausea? At the time I had no such reaction. Perhaps nausea is simply an unconscious device of the egoist, who, when he hears of horrors outside the course of his present serene existence, allows only his stomach to respond ~ Sh hei oka

180:I learned through my body and soul that it was necessary for me to sin, that I needed lust, that I had to strive for property and experience nausea and the depths of despair in order to learn not to resist them, in order to learn to love the world. ~ Hermann Hesse

181:My brain was fine, but I did not feel like myself. My body was frail and weak—the person who could run half marathons was a distant memory—and that, too, shapes your identity. Racking back pain can mold an identity; fatigue and nausea can, as well. ~ Paul Kalanithi

182:That's exactly why we have to have you, Colonel - to solve problems that are elementary to a man of your genius" - Ardmore felt slightly nauseated inside: this was worse than writing advertising copy - "but which are miracles for the rest of us. ~ Robert A Heinlein

183:The people had fled into the buildings, but the thick, salty mark of their fear still hung heavy in the air, coagulating with the bees' magical stench of rotting, acid-dripping flowers into a nauseating miasma of crumbling courage and ill intentions. ~ Ella Summers

184:The whole thing had been painful to the point of nausea, made worse by covert sympathetic looks from Nina. If there's one thing I dislike more than being hurt, it's being seen to be hurt. I've always preferred to creep away and lick my wounds in private. ~ Ruth Ware

185:Desperate. He rolled his eyes. That was the third nail in the coffin to this whole fiasco. Kennedy wanted him to pose as a paid escort (which embarrassed him) to a desperate woman (which scared him) and take her to a wedding (which nauseated him.) ~ Jennifer Shirk

186:Politicians are nauseating by definition... They can produce nothing, neither a loaf of bread nor a table nor a picture; and this inability to create value, this total inferiority, makes them jealous, vengeful, insolent and a menace to life and limb. ~ Gerhard Richter

187:A drunkenness brought on by gulped beer on an empty stomach produces raucous sniping, atrocious singing, nausea. But a tizzy induced by impeccable wine slowly sipped during a marvelous meal and burnished by a superb brandy elicits miraculous conversation. ~ Keith Miller

188:There is something utterly nauseating about a system of society which pays a harlot 25 times as much as it pays its prime minister, 250 times as much as it pays its members of Parliament and 500 times as much as it pays some of its ministers of religion. ~ Harold Wilson

189:You can read all the pro-choice, pro-adoption, pro-life arguments—over the years, Olivia had ad nauseam—but there was one basic truth: Getting pregnant is the ultimate fork in the road. Whatever you choose, you will always wonder about the path not taken. ~ Harlan Coben

190:You say yes to the sunlight and pure fantasies, so you have to say yes to the filth and the nausea. Everything is within you, gold and mud, happiness and pain, the laughter of childhood and the apprehension of death. Say yes to everything, shirk nothing. ~ Hermann Hesse

191:Tallie looked for something to throw, but considering the fact that she threw like a girl, she dumped that plan in lieu of grabbing her new iron and swinging it like a bowling ball between the bad man's legs, where it connected with a nauseating thunk . ~ Stephanie Bond

192:He moves closer and leans down so I will look at him. And I feel sick, literally nauseated by the smell of bourbon on his breath. And yet I still want to fold myself up and put my entire body in his arms. I am loving him and hating him at the same time. ~ Kathryn Stockett

193:It’s a congenital birth defect called phocomelia,” she’d told me, as though she’d said it a million times before, even though I hadn’t asked. “It’s a known side effect of the anti-nausea drug thalidomide, but was just a genetic luck of the draw in my case. ~ Shawn McGuire

194:Intrigued as I was by this new dynamic of disrespect, at my core I didn’t want to be spoken to like that. It made me feel silenced, lonely, and far away from myself, a feeling that I believe, next to extreme nausea sans vomiting, is the depth of human misery. ~ Lena Dunham

195:Having become conscious of the truth he once perceived, man now sees only the awfulness or the absurdity of existence, he now understands the symbolic element in Ophelia's fate, he now recognizes the wisdom of the woodland god, Silenus: it nauseates him. ~ Friedrich Nietzsche

196:“In this sense the Dionysian man resembles Hamlet : both have once looked truly into the essence of things, they have gained knowledge, and nausea inhibits action; for their action could not change anything in the eternal nature of things." ~ Nietzsche, "The Birth of Tragedy"

197:Just when I’d about given up on finding the end, the smell hit me. It was like a Lady Gaga and Justin Beiber song, wrapped up in a Milli Vanilli backbeat with lots and lots of poo extract. Or a sewer. Pretty much the same thing. Both left me a little nauseated. ~ Tim Marquitz

198:And finally, and most importantly, the next time we go to war, don't give a specific reason for the war that the left can seize upon and later flog us with it ad nauseam, just do it. Remember, the first rule of Fight Club is that you don't talk about Fight Club. ~ Dennis Miller

199:But what a path it has been! I have had to pass through so much foolishness, so much vice, so much error, so much nausea and disillusionment and wretchedness, merely in order to become a child again and be able to start over. But all of this was just and proper. ~ Hermann Hesse

200:Though horror and revolting nausea rose up within me, and an odour of corruption choked my breath, I remained firm. I was then privileged or accursed, I dare not say which, to see that which was on the bed, lying there black like ink, transformed before my eyes. ~ Arthur Machen

201:Hegel, installed from above, by the powers that be, as the certified Great Philosopher, was a flat-headed, insipid, nauseating, illiterate charlatan who reached the pinnacle of audacity in scribbling together and dishing up the craziest mystifying nonsense. ~ Arthur Schopenhauer

202:"Hello, Max," he said quietly, searching my face. "How do you feel?" Which was a ten on the 'imbecilic question' scale of one to ten. "Why, I feel fine, Jeb," I said brightly. "How about you?" "Any nausea? Headache?" "Yep. And it's standing here talking to me." ~ James Patterson

203:Rookie Myron Bolitar had his head turned when Big Burt Wesson, a journeyman power forward, blindsided him. Myron’s knee twisted in a way neither God nor anatomy ever intended. Even from a distance you could actually hear a nauseating sound like a wet snap. Bye-bye, ~ Harlan Coben

204:Lasting solutions are always difficult to come to. But they will have to persevere. I've been repeating ad nauseam that we in Burma we are weak with regard to the culture of negotiated compromises, that we have to develop the ability to achieve such compromises. ~ Aung San Suu Kyi

205:The one thing that we yearn for in our living days, that makes us sigh and groan and undergo sweet nauseas of all kinds, is the remembrance of some lost bliss that was probably experienced in the womb and can only be reproduced (though we hate to admit it) in death. ~ Jack Kerouac

206:Do you have a favorite team?” He smirked. Literally smirked. “There's only one New York team.” Alexa fought past the nausea and asked the question. “Which one?” “The Yankees, of course. It’s the only team that wins. It’s the only team that matters. ~ Jennifer Probst

207:People who live in society have learned to see themselves in mirrors as they appear to their friends. Is that why my flesh is naked? You might say - yes you might say, nature without humanity… Things are bad! Things are very bad: I have it, the filth, the Nausea. ~ Jean Paul Sartre

208:This emotion I'm feeling now, this is love, right?" "I don't know. Is it a longing? Is it a giddy stupid happiness just because you're with me?" "Yes," she said. "That's influenza," said Miro. "Watch for nausea or diarrhea within a few hours. ~ Orson Scott Card

209:I don't believe in hell. The idea that a supreme being would make hell is ridiculous. An eternity of pain that results in no learning, reformation or rebirth is a nauseating idea. It's one of the reasons I left Christianity. I simply could not accept that version of God. ~ Anne Rice

210:A physical nausea, prompted by all of life, was born in the moment I woke up. A horror at the prospect of having to live got up with me out of bed. Everything seemed hollow, and I had the chilling impression that there is no solution for whatever the problem may be. ~ Fernando Pessoa

211:She had witnessed in nauseating detail how the human world worked: its rituals of comfort (television, food, religion); its appetite for poison (television, food, religion); and for the monstrous edifices of desire (television, food, religion): she understood them all. ~ Clive Barker

212:One of the staples of discussion about basic aesthetic principles is that art has to exist for its own self and cannot be prostituted to advance any particular cause or point of view. Perfect nonsense, of course, but that doesn’t keep it from being repeated ad nauseam. ~ Douglas Wilson

213:I felt squeezed in that vise along with the mass of everyday things and people, and I had a bad taste in my mouth, a permanent sense of nausea that exhausted me, as if everything, thus compacted, and always tighter, were grinding me up, reducing me to a repulsive cream. ~ Elena Ferrante

214:My experience is that money and transactions purify relations; ideas and abstract matters like “recognition” and “credit” warp them, creating an atmosphere of perpetual rivalry. I grew to find people greedy for credentials nauseating, repulsive, and untrustworthy. ~ Nassim Nicholas Taleb

215:Once, when she was six years old, she had fallen from a tree, flat on her stomach. She could still recall that sickening interval before breath came back into her body. Now, as she looked at him, she felt the same way she had felt then, breathless, stunned, nauseated. ~ Margaret Mitchell

216:«Ho sentito odore di sangue», dissi, storcendo il naso. La nausea di Lee non nasceva dal guardare il sangue degli altri, come la mia. «L’odore del sangue non si sente», mi contraddisse lui. «Be’, io lo sento, ecco perché mi viene la nausea. Sa di ruggine… e di sale». ~ Stephenie Meyer

217:The Nausea has stayed down there, in the yellow light. I am happy: this cold is so pure, this night so pure: am I myself not a wave of icy air? With neither blood, nor lymph, nor flesh. Flowing down this long canal towards the pallor down there. To be nothing but coldness. ~ Jean Paul Sartre

218:There's a real passing down in the theater, almost ad nauseam. You have to listen to older people talk about their experience, but it makes you very aware of what has come before you or what is coming after you - that you're a part of a link in a chain. It's not all about you. ~ Laura Linney

219:Your son, my dear friend, is troubling you, and also me. The young bird is accustomed to a different life, to a different nest. He did not run away from riches and the town with a feeling of nausea and disgust as you did; he has had to leave all these things against his will. ~ Hermann Hesse

220:I was too unsettled. Too full. Full of dark thoughts, dark musing, as if I’d eaten them for dinner instead of the roasted duck, and they were sitting undigested in my stomach, waiting to be vomited back up at the wrong time. The threat of it hung over my mind like nausea. ~ Kate Avery Ellison

221:His blue cotton shirt stands out joyfully against a chocolate-coloured wall. That too brings on the Nausea. The Nausea is not inside me: I feel it OUT THERE in the wall, in the suspenders, everywhere around me. It makes itself one with the café, I am the one who is within IT. ~ Jean Paul Sartre

222:The one thing that we yearn for in our living days, that makes us sigh and groan and undergo sweet nauseas of all kinds, is the remembrance of some lost bliss that was probably experienced in the womb and can only be reproduced (though we hate to admit it) in death. But who wants to die? ~ Jack Kerouac

223:What determined the outcome of a life? A series of events you had no control over, or did some cosmic gravity pull everything in the direction it was predestined to go? He loosened his strangely uncomfortable dog collar, suppressed his nausea and steeled himself. Remembered what was at stake. ~ Jo Nesb

224:(Sartre) (The world is full without me, as in Nausea; the world plays at living behind a glass partition; the world is in an aquarium; I see everything close up and yet cut off, made of some other substance; I keep falling outside myself, without dizziness, without blue, into precision. ~ Roland Barthes

225:to carry such a grudge. He was so cold to her that she wondered if any love for her remained in his heart. Despair surged through her veins as another wave of nausea overtook her. She hoped God would give her the guidance she needed to reach out to her husband and find the love they once had. ~ Amy Clipston

226:Everyone had run to do her bidding. Soon only the three men--the three useless ones--had been left in the sitting room to fight terror and nausea and fits of the vapors. The door opened. Three pale, terrified faces turned toward it. -the three manly men waiting during a childbirth ~ Mary Balogh

227:I loved you too much, wanted you too much, had for you too great a tenderness. Now all of this is like a twisted root in my heart, a deadly poison in my brain. You have made of me a madman. You fill me with a kind of horror, a devastating hate that is akin to love – a hunger that is nausea. ~ Daphne du Maurier

228:Andrew had nearly killed four men for assaulting Nicky and would have broken Allison's neck for hitting Aaron, but when it came to crimes against his own person Andrew couldn't care less. He held his life in less regard than he did anything else. Neil hated that with a ferocity that was nauseating. ~ Nora Sakavic

229:I have had to experience so much stupidity, so many vices, so much error, so much nausea, disillusionment and sorrow, just in order to become a child again and begin anew. I had to experience despair, I had to sink to the greatest mental depths, to thoughts of suicide, in order to experience grace. ~ Hermann Hesse

230:The moaning and groaning, The sighing and sobbing, Are quieted now, With that horrible throbbing At heart:—ah, that horrible, Horrible throbbing! The sickness—the nausea— The pitiless pain— Have ceased, with the fever That maddened my brain— With the fever called "Living" That burned in my brain. ~ Edgar Allan Poe

231:Marijuana is the finest anti-nausea medication known to science, and our leaders have lied about this consistently. [Arresting people for] medical marijuana is the most hideous example of government interference in the private lives of individuals. It's an outrage within an outrage within an outrage. ~ Peter McWilliams

232:The Barry Goldwater movement excited the depths because the apocalypse was brought more near, and like millions of other whites, I had been leading a life which was a trifle too pointless and a trifle too full of guilt and my gullet was close to nausea with the empty promises of an empty liberal center. ~ Norman Mailer

233:Americanesia Expressaphobia, n 1. Financial affliction, first diagnosed in late twentieth century, where the sufferer forgets the amount charged on a credit card but is terribly afraid that it’s way too much. Closely related to Visago, n, where a high level of debt prompts feelings of nausea and dizziness. ~ Gary Belsky

234:I sat at the foot of a huge tree, a statue of the night, and tried to make an inventory of all I had seen, heard, smelled, and felt: dizziness, horror, stupor, astonishment, joy, enthusiasm, nausea, inescapable attraction. What had attracted me? It was difficult to say: Human kind cannot bear much reality. ~ Octavio Paz

235:I want to have some reaction. I want to tremble or feel nauseated. I want to be the person who begins to weep. I want to be anyone but the person I am, who looks around to be sure no one saw, who wipes off my knife in the dirt, wipes off my hand on his clothes, and gets out of there before the guards come. ~ Holly Black

236:In the case of On Beauty, my OPD spun completely out of control: I reworked those first twenty pages for almost two years. To look back at all past work induces nausea, but the first twenty pages in particular bring on heart palpitations. It’s like taking a tour of a cell in which you were once incarcerated. ~ Zadie Smith

237:You can hear the profile of a sound, in retrospect, so much more clearly than you did at the time. And I think one of the things that's going to be nauseatingly characteristic about so much music of now is its glossy production values and its griddedness, the tightness of the way everything is locked together. ~ Brian Eno

238:Sometimes at night she would be wakened by thunderclaps of passion from her father in the next room. They terrified and disgusted her, although they were not so nauseating as the underlying slithery hypocrisy of her mother’s acceptance. She’d always thought her mother was the loving one and her father stolid. ~ Dave Duncan

239:But the man who is aware of his own unworthiness and the unworthiness of his brother is tempted with a subtler and more tormenting kind of hate: the general, searing, nauseating hate of everything and everyone, because everything is tainted with unworthiness, everything is unclean, everything is foul with sin. ~ Thomas Merton

240:For seven days she lay in bed looking sullenly at the ceiling as though resenting the death she had cultivated for so many years. Like some people who cannot vomit despite horrible nausea, she lay there unable to die, resisting death as she had resisted life, frozen with resentment of process and change. ~ William S Burroughs

241:The odor of frying bacon, sausage links, and ham tiptoed on little pig feet all the way to the north end of the second floor. Inevitably, the odor made her simultaneously ravenous and nauseated. She hated the sensation. It reminded her of pregnancy. Every Sunday morning, Leigh-Cheri awoke to a pan of fried fear. ~ Tom Robbins

242:The heaving sickness past, her nausea gone, her bodily fluids replaced, she felt the lightness of being in the open space around her. Her walls the canyon's walls, she owned them not at all; her floor, the river beach. Her view, the heavens. It was, this freedom she was in, the longed-for cathedral of her dreams. ~ Alice Walker

243:There was no hope, things couldn't be put right. I couldn't be put right. The past could neither be escaped nor undone. After all these weeks of delusion, I recognized, breathless, the pure, brutal truth of it. I felt despair and nausea mingled inside me, and then that familiar black, black mood came down first. ~ Gail Honeyman

244:I have had to experience so much stupidity, so many vices, so much error, so much nausea, disillusionment and sorrow, just in order to become a child again and begin anew. I had to experience despair, I had to sink to the greatest mental depths, to thoughts of suicide, in order to experience grace. ~ Hermann Hesse, Siddhartha,

245:I didn't like anybody in that school. I think they knew that. I think that's why they disliked me. I didn't like the way they walked or looked or talked, but I didn't like my mother or father either. I still had the feeling of being surrounded by white empty space. There was always a slight nausea in my stomach. ~ Charles Bukowski

246:Neuro-psychiatric cases, termed combat exhaustion, rose to nearly a quarter of all hospital admissions. The German army, which refused to recognize the condition, apparently suffered far fewer cases. Combat exhaustion produced recognizable symptoms: ‘nausea, crying, extreme nervousness and gastric conditions’. Some ~ Antony Beevor

247:You should've seen the way they said hello. You'd have thought they hadn't seen each other in twenty years. You'd have thought they'd taken baths in the same bathtub or something when they were little kids. Old buddyroos. It was nauseating. The funny part was, they probably met each other just once, at some phony party. ~ Anonymous

248:Combinatorial analysis, in the trivial sense of manipulating binomial and multinomial coefficients, and formally expanding powers of infinite series by applications ad libitum and ad nauseamque of the multinomial theorem, represented the best that academic mathematics could do in the Germany of the late 18th century. ~ Richard Askey

249:Hope had been in the NICU for a week before she was named. The name her parents had picked out was Allison—Allegra and Allison, for nauseating twin symmetry—but after all that transpired, they changed their minds and decided to call her Hope, no explanation needed. She was a survivor, an underdog who had prevailed; ~ Elin Hilderbrand

250:Era la presa di coscienza nauseante di essere sbarcato sul pianeta sbagliato. O nella famiglia sbagliata. O nel corpo sbagliato. La presa di coscienza di non avere altra scelta che temporeggiare fino a quando non fosse stato in grado di andarsene e costruirsi un piccolo mondo tutto suo, dove si sarebbe sentito al sicuro. ~ Mark Haddon

251:He said that hate makes the world go round People are afraid of what they really want They make enemies of all the things that they would like to be They condition themselves to not embrace what they are Love is a clinging nausea I tried to disagree with him It was no use I never saw a more honest look in anyone's eyes. ~ Henry Rollins

252:The walls up here are two-tone: brown on the bottom and white on top. He thinks that the only two-tone combination in the whole world that might be more depressing than brown and white would be pink and black. Hospital corridors like giant Good ‘n’ Plentys. The thought makes him smile and feel nauseated at the same time. ~ Stephen King

253:Mackenzie came close and studied her, trying to repress a feeling of nausea and a wave of sadness. The woman’s back was covered in gashes. They looked uniform in nature, likely placed there by the same instrument. Her back was covered in blood, mostly dried and sticky. The back of her thong underwear was caked in it, too. ~ Blake Pierce

254:I could not be a zombie. They had no thoughts. Their brains were gruel. They said little beyond "Brrr!" unable, even, to articulate completely what they sought. "Brains,"I said distinctly. "And I feel no burning urge to partake of any." Forsooth, the idea sent a wave of nausea through me. Therefore I was not a zombie. ~ Lori Handeland

255:Nothing has changed and yet everything is different. I can’t describe it; it’s like the Nausea and yet it’s just the opposite: at last an adventure happens to me and when I question myself I see that it happens that I am myself and that I am here; I am the one who splits the night, I am as happy as the hero of a novel. ~ Jean Paul Sartre

256:The current health care takeover proposals feature a crucial payoff to Big Labor - a golden exemption from any tax on union members' generous health care benefits. The friends and patrons of Obama may be making out like bandits. But for everyone else, the Democrats' ideological bankruptcy comes at a nauseatingly steep price. ~ Michelle Malkin

257:Art has two great functions. First, it provides an emotional experience. And then, if we have the courage of our own feelings, it becomes a mine of practical truth. We have had the feelings ad nauseam. But we've never dared dig the actual truth out of them, the truth that concerns us, whether it concerns our grandchildren or not. ~ D H Lawrence

258:One cannot help reflecting on the irony that the celebrated philosopher of freedom, the great atheist, maintained an almost religious faith in an ideology that vandalized the very face of freedom. In fact, Sartre was largely unpolitical during the 1930s (he did not vote), and Nausea is political only, as it were, at its margins. ~ Jean Paul Sartre

259:You are a man. You are an average, lazy, boring, cowardly, woman-fearing man. Without me, that's what you would have kept on being, ad nauseam. But I made you into something. You were the best man you've ever been with me. And you know it. The only time in your life you've ever liked yourself was pretending to be someone I might like. ~ Gillian Flynn

260:cramp began to knot my right calf and so with thumb and forefinger I pinched my nose shut with considerable force and held the pressure until the cramp faded away. A Chinese solution. Acupressure, just as steady pressure at the right point on the inside of the wrist, three finger widths from the heel of the hand, will inhibit nausea. ~ John D MacDonald

261:Wakened one morning in some dive to know the game was up. Nausea, the shivers, the disease that bums, stevedores, poets, and the city elders all fell foul to. The syph. Had to be burned out of him. Oh man, the mercury that cured also took away, a descent into blindness. “I have sewed sackcloth upon my skin and defiled my horn in the dust. ~ Edna O Brien

262:Oh my God, I sent a picture of my boobs to Jim," I moaned as a fresh wave of nausea rolled through me. "You also threw up in the emergency room parking lot, called Drew and told him you were the Donkey Punch Dick Queen and filled out a Last Will and Testament on a Burger King napkin and then asked the drive-thru worker to notarize it. ~ Tara Sivec

263:Perhaps I should not hope to convey in mere words the unutterable hideousness that can dwell in absolute silence and barren immensity. There was nothing within hearing, and nothing in sight save a vast reach of black slime; yet the very completeness of the stillness and the homogeneity of the landscape oppressed me with a nauseating fear. ~ H P Lovecraft

264:Even under the spur of immediate fear or desire, without the taste for life, mankind would soon stop inventing and constructing for a work it knew to be doomed in advance. And, stricken at the very source of the impetus which sustains it, it would disintegrate from nausea or revolt and crumble into dust. ~ Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, The Phenomenon of Man

265:He said that hate makes the world go round People are afraid of what they really want They make enemies of all the things that they would like to be They condition themselves to not embrace what they are Love is a clinging nausea I tried to disagree with him It was no use I never saw a more honest look in anyone's eyes. ~ Henry Rollins

266:To laugh at others is egoistic; to laugh at oneself is very humble. Learn to laugh at yourself - about your seriousness and things like that. You can get serious about seriousness. Then instead of one, you have created two diseases. Then you can get serious about that also, and you can go on and on. There is no end to it; it can go on AD NAUSEAM. ~ Rajneesh

267:Cant is always rather nauseating; but before we condemn political hypocrisy, let us remember that it is the tribute paid by men of leather to men of God, and that the acting of the part of someone better than oneself may actually commit one to a course of behavior perceptibly less evil than what would be normal and natural in an avowed cynic. ~ Aldous Huxley

268:I cannot be alone in being pretty nauseated by Red Nose Day, or at least its television manifestation. Do I think that wretchedly poor children in Africa should get food and life-saving drugs? Of course. Do I want to be hectored into contributing by celebrities who earn more in a 10-minute slot than many of these families get in a year? Nope. ~ Simon Hoggart

269:Don't take me for a fool!" Dee interrupted angrily, but then had to lean over the boat as another bout of nausea gripped him. Virginia grinned and winked at Josh. "It's hard to sound masterful when you're throwing up, isn't it?" "I hate you, Virginia Dare," Dee mumbled. "I know you don't really mean that," she said lightly. "I do," he croaked. ~ Michael Scott

270:In a moment I was clutched by several hands, and there was no mistaking that they were trying to haul me back. I struck another light, and waved it in their dazzled faces. You can scarce imagine how nauseatingly inhuman they looked—those pale, chinless faces and great, lidless, pinkish-grey eyes!—as they stared in their blindness and bewilderment. ~ H G Wells

271:A cascade of reactions initiated by Factor 6 relaxed his tear valves and sent a wave of nausea down his vagus: a “sense” that he survived from day to day by distracting himself from underground truths that day by day grew more compelling and decisive. The truth that he was going to die. That heaping your tomb with treasure wouldn’t save you. ~ Jonathan Franzen

272:But the forces of evil have not abdicated. The malevolent ghosts of hatred are resurgent with a fury and a boldness that are as astounding as they are nauseating: ethnic conflicts, religious riots, anti-Semitic incidents here, there, and everywhere. What is wrong with these morally degenerate people that they abuse their freedom, so recently won? ~ Elie Wiesel

273:Love made us partners in narcissism, and we talked ceaselessly about how close we were, how perfect our connection was, like we were the first people in history to ever get it exactly right. We were that couple for a while, nauseatingly impervious assholes, busy staring into each other’s eyes while everyone else was trying to have a good time. ~ Jonathan Tropper

274:In those years, that marvelous mess of constellations, nebulae, interstellar gaps and all the rest of the awesome show provoked in me an indescribable sense of nausea, of utter panic, as if I were hanging from earth upside down on the brink of infinite space, with terrestrial gravity still holding me by the heels but about to release me any moment ~ Vladimir Nabokov

275:And the pathetic part of it is that frequently those who have the least justification for a feeling of achievement bolster up their egos by a show of tumult and conceit which is truly nauseating. As Shakespeare put it: “ … man, proud man, / Drest in a little brief authority, / … Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven / As make the angels weep. ~ Dale Carnegie

276:Gli eroi mi davano la nausea. Una volta, avevo voluto essere uno di loro. Avevo covato sogni gloriosi di diventare un eroe dello stesso stampo di cui credevo Joscelin fosse fatto. Avevo perso quelle illusioni molto tempo fa, ma non avevo capito fino ad ora che eroismo significa vivere nel terrore di non essere in grado di proteggere coloro che ami. ~ Jacqueline Carey

277:It seemed that everyone was shouting too loudly and moving too quickly. This sensation was accompanied by nausea, and she had had the impression that something absolutely material, which had been present around her and around everyone and everything forever, but imperceptible, was breaking down the outlines of persons and things and revealing itself. ~ Elena Ferrante

278:Something tugged inside him. A flutter of unease. Do you sing? Those had been her first words to him, the day she had bought him. A band of nausea circled Arin’s throat, just as it had when she had asked him that question, in part for the same reason. She’d had no trace of an accent. She had spoken in perfect, natural, mother-taught Herrani. ~ Marie Rutkoski

279:The central point: had Stiglitz been a businessman with his own money on the line, he would have blown up, terminated. Or had he been in nature, his genes would have been made extinct—so people with such misunderstanding of probability would eventually disappear from our DNA. What I found nauseating was the government hiring one of his coauthors. ~ Nassim Nicholas Taleb

280:Don't take me for a fool!" Dee interrupted angrily, but then had to lean over the boat as another bout of nausea gripped him. Virginia grinned and winked at Josh. "It's hard to sound masterful when you're throwing up, isn't it?" "I hate you, Virginia Dare," Dee mumbled. "I know you don't really mean that," she said lightly. "I do," he croaked. ~ Michael Scott

281:For everything that exists I feel a visual affection, an intellectual fondness – nothing in the heart. I have faith in nothing, hope in nothing, charity for nothing. I feel only horror and nausea for the sincere souls of all sincerities and the mystics of all mysticisms, or rather, for the sincerities of all sincere souls and the mysticisms of all mystics. ~ Fernando Pessoa

282:But you’re doomed to never be satisfied with yourself.” Nausea churned in my gut. “What makes you say that?” She paused, clearly thinking carefully about what she was going to say. “Because being ‘the best’ is subjective and your dissatisfaction with yourself drives you. You’ll always think you can be better because you always can be. No one’s perfect. ~ Louise Bay

283:The evidence is overwhelming that marijuana can relieve certain types of pain, nausea, vomiting and other symptoms caused by such illnesses as multiple sclerosis, cancer and AIDS - or by the harsh drugs sometimes used to treat them. And it can do so with remarkable safety. Indeed, marijuana is less toxic than many of the drugs that physicians prescribe every day. ~ Joycelyn Elders

284:My mouth was dry as cotton and my head hurt like hell. I tried to lift it, and the effort left me shaken and nauseated. I satisfied myself with just shifting my eyes around. I thought of all the books I'd read, all the mysteries. Spencer wouldn't have ended up this way. Neither would Kinsey Milhone. Or Henry O. Or Stephanie Plum, Well, yeah, maybe Stephanie Plum. ~ Charlaine Harris

285:Heat flushed Chauncey's neck; it took all his energy to curl his hands into two weak fists. He laughed at himself, but there was no humor. He had no idea how, but the boy was inflicting the nausea and weakness inside him. It would not lift until he took the oath. He would say what he had to, but he swore in his heart he would destroy the boy for this humiliation. ~ Becca Fitzpatrick

286:Marijuana is effective at relieving nausea and vomiting, spasticity, appetite loss, certain types of pain, and other debilitating symptoms. And it is extraordinarily safe - safer than most medicines prescribed every day. If marijuana were a new discovery rather than a well-known substance carrying cultural and political baggage, it would be hailed as a wonder drug. ~ Lester Grinspoon

287:Breaking any had habit is hard to do, but breaking apart a pleasure-trap cycle can he the most difficult challenge of a lifetime. The change of even a single factor, such as removing morning caffeine, will often result in a person temporarily feeling worse, as they experience unwelcome fatigue as well as the headaches, nausea, and anxiety characteristic of drug withdrawal. ~ Douglas J Lisle

288:Love is a kind of dementia with very precise and oft-repeated clinical symptoms. You blush in each other's presence, you both hover in places where you expect the other to pass, you are both a little tongue-tied, you both laugh inexplicably and too long, you become quite nauseatingly girlish, and he becomes quite ridiculously gallant. You have also grown a little stupid. ~ Louis de Berni res

289:You all right?" he asked. I felt dizzy. "Yeah. Lots of blood, though..." "The head always bleeds a lot," Luke told me. "Remember when I fell from the chandelier?" I smiled through my nausea. "Yeah." "And from that third-story window?" "Yeah." "And from the flagpole of our Montessori school?" "I remember." I managed a small laugh. "But I'm surprised you do. ~ Flynn Meaney

290:It is alarming and also nauseating to see Mr. Gandhi, an Inner Temple lawyer, now become a seditious fakir of a type well known in the East, striding half-naked up the steps of the Viceregal Palace, while he is still organizing and conducting a defiant campaign of civil disobedience, to parley on equal terms with the representative of the King-Emperor. [February 23, 1931] ~ Winston S Churchill

291:You truly need to witness me goo-gooing and coo-cooing and making up goofy little songs to glean a full appreciation of how nauseating I can be. This is another instance where things seemingly don't add up - how can this vile, hateful, violent, misogynist, racist, loathsome, repugnant, worthless, reprehensible subhuman be so insanely tender and kind to little doggies and kitty-cats? ~ Jim Goad

292:Simple, Kate wanted to say. I'm already dead. Instead, she'd pressed her lips together so hard it made her eyes water as she'd grabbed her prescriptions. The ones her therapist had assured her would help with the nausea and the insomnia. In reality, they'd nothing except make her feel as if she were underwater. Kate kept taking them in the hope she might eventually drown. ~ Kimberly McCreight

293:In less than a quarter of an hour’s time, these hopeful youths had shed about them on the clean boards, a copious shower of yellow rain; clearing, by that means, a kind of magic circle, within whose limits no intruders dared to come, and which they never failed to refresh and re-refresh before a spot was dry. This being before breakfast, rather disposed me, I confess, to nausea; ~ Charles Dickens

294:She received fine silk gloves and music boxes and even a curled lock of prickly white hair tied with a red velvet ribbon. That particularly appalling gift had even come with a poem: Roses are red, violets are blue, I would even trim my mustache for you! She had memorized the short stanza against her will and the words had nauseated her on multiple occasions since. ~ Marissa Meyer

295:The smell the tornado left in its wake combined pine, sulfur, and natural gas with the sickly sweet smell of death. It was a nauseating, desperate smell that clung to his nostrils and turned his stomach in every disaster zone he would ever visit. After one tornado, a man looked at him with ancient eyes and described the smell in words he would never forget: It comes from the pit of hell. ~ Kim Cross

296:You can’t imagine how much I hated middle school. Remember the way people would look at you blankly and say, “Um, okaaay,” after you finished talking? Everyone just had to make it so clear that, whatever you were thinking or feeling, you were totally alone. The worst part, of course, was that I did the same thing to other people. It makes me a little nauseated just remembering that. ~ Becky Albertalli

297:I learned through my body and soul that it was necessary to sin, that I needed lust, that I had to strive for property and experience nausea and the depths of despair in order to learn not to resist them, in order to learn to love the world, and no longer compare it with some kind of desired imaginary vision of perfection, but to leave it as it is, to love it and be glad to belong to it. ~ Hermann Hesse

298:The primordial blessing, 'increase and multiply', has suddenly become a hemorrhage of terror. We are numbered in billions, and massed together, marshalled, numbered, marched here and there, taxed, drilled, armed, worked to the point of insensibility, dazed by information, drugged by entertainment, surfeited with everything, nauseated with the human race and with ourselves, nauseated with life. ~ Thomas Merton

299:What are our conductors giving us year after year? Only fresh corpses. Over these beautifully embalmed sonatas, toccatas, symphonies and operas the public dance the jitterbug. Night and day without let the radio drowns us in a hog-wash of the most nauseating, sentimental ditties. From the churches comes the melancholy dirge of the dead Christ, a music which is no more sacred than a rotten turnip. ~ Henry Miller

300:I completely understand what you mean about being locked into yourself. For me, I don't even think it has anything to do with other people thinking they know me. It's more that I want to leap in and say certain things and do certain things, but I always seem to hold myself back. I think a big part of me is afraid. Even thinking about it makes me nauseated. Did I mentioned I get nauseated easily? ~ Becky Albertalli

301:but if I had to describe the feeling of a crush, I’d say this: you just finished running a mile, and you have to throw up, and you’re starving, but no food seems appealing, and your brain becomes fog, and you also have to pee. It’s this close to intolerable. But I like it... Because there’s nausea and fog, but there’s also this: an unshakable feeling that something wonderful is about to happen. ~ Becky Albertalli

302:It was then that the Boy went through his darkest hell of all: the long ache of his body, acute as it was, was yet forgotten or disposed of in some way, for he was filled with a disembodied pain, an illness so penetrating, so horrible, that had he been given the opportunity to die he would have taken it. No normal sensation could find a way through this overpowering nausea of the soul that filled him. ~ Mervyn Peake

303:It was long assumed that heart disease manifested the same in men and women. But Dr. Legato found that men may experience the classic symptoms of chest pain that radiates down the left arm. Women often have symptoms including shortness of breath, nausea or vomiting, and back or jaw pain. A gender-neutral approach left many women under-diagnosed and under-treated and as a result many women died needlessly. ~ Jed Diamond

304:I have not voted in a human presidential election for quite some time, Jonathan. Admittedly, it may not be my place. Still, do you know what really stops me from selecting a candidate?” Jonathan listened but mostly focused on containing his nausea. “It’s a paradox, I know. It just seems that anyone smart enough to know the responsibility of such a seat of power would never be dumb enough to apply for it. ~ T Ellery Hodges

305:Juliet by Ann Fortier. The Maestro (Chapter5) ... the slight nausea he was feeling must be somewhat near what God was feeling every minute of every day. If indeed He felt anything. He was, after all, a divine being, and it was entirely conceivable that divinity was incompatible with emotion. If not, then the Maestro sincerely pitied God, for the history of mankind was nothing more than a long tale of tears. ~ Anne Fortier

306:EMF has been associated with causing sensations of disorientation, fear, nausea, and the feeling that a presence is in a room with you. I believe people can sometimes find themselves in a high EMF (sometimes called a “Fear Cage”) and get the feeling that they’re not alone when in fact they’re caught in a high EMF and being tricked by it. So it’s possible to blame spirits for something that’s perfectly natural. ~ Zak Bagans

307:Hot Water drinks should be taken soon after arising in the morning, or, if taken during the day, care should be taken not to eat for over one-half hour afterward. About one-half pint to one pint of water is the amount — taken as hot as it can be drunk with comfort, the usual directions being: “Make it as hot as a cup of hot tea.” Hot water does not produce nausea — it is warm water that does this. ~ William Walker Atkinson

308:Before the nausea set in, we had managed to make love on my narrow bunk, but the whole thing was such a tangle of elbows and knees and bumping chins, I barely knew the thing was happening before it was over. Afterwards, he kissed my cheek and said, “That was lovely, sweetheart.” Then he crawled out of my bunk and into his, while I was left feeling just as lost and confused as I had been on our wedding night. Jock ~ Paula McLain

309:I grow warm, I begin to feel happy. There is nothing extraordinary in this, it is a small happiness of Nausea: it spreads at the bottom of the viscous puddle, at the bottom of out time - the time of purple suspenders, and broken chair seats; it is made of white, soft instants, spreading at the edge, like an oil stain. No sooner than born, it is already old, it seems as though I have known it for twenty years. ~ Jean Paul Sartre

310:When we were almost to the other campus, I felt the weird nausea hit me. I called a warning to Christian, just as a Strigoi grabbed him. But Christian was fast. Flames wreathed the Strigoi's head. He screamed and released Christian, trying frantically to put the flames out. The Strigoi never saw me coming with the stake. The whole thing took under a minute. Christian and I exchanged looks. Yeah. We were badasses. ~ Richelle Mead

311:Christianity does not oppose debauchery and uncontrollable passions and the like as much as it opposes... flat mediocrity, this nauseating atmosphere, this homey, civil togetherness, where admittedly great crimes, wild excesses, and powerful aberrations cannot easily occur - but where God's unconditional demand has even greater difficulty in accomplishing what it requires: the majestic obedience of submission. ~ Soren Kierkegaard

312:He folded his blade, then sat on the bench, leaning forward, hands joined between his slightly parted knees. Seeing himself like this, he thought that he really had aged prematurely. Not physically, but emotionally. The warm air brushed over his neck like a child’s caress. Shadows were settling on the capital, a large sleeping cat that you saw from below. And with them, their nauseating cloud of crimes and assaults. ~ Franck Thilliez

313:Cadaver dissection is a medical rite of passage and a trespass on the sacrosanct, engendering a legion of feelings: from revulsion, exhilaration, nausea, frustration, and awe to, as time passes, the mere tedium of academic exercise. Everything teeters between pathos and bathos: here you are, violating society’s most fundamental taboos, and yet formaldehyde is a powerful appetite stimulant, so you also crave a burrito. ~ Paul Kalanithi

314:As the figure moved before him he followed the muscles as they wove beneath the skin. he was not only fighting with an assailant who was awaiting for that split second in which to strike him dead, but he was stabbing at a masterpiece -- at sculpture that leapt and heaved, at a marvel of inky shadow and silver light. A great wave of nausea surged through him and his knife felt putrid in his hand. His body went on fighting ~ Mervyn Peake

315:The moaning and groaning,             The sighing and sobbing,         Are quieted now,             With that horrible throbbing         At heart:—ah, that horrible,             Horrible throbbing!         The sickness—the nausea—             The pitiless pain—         Have ceased, with the fever             That maddened my brain—         With the fever called “Living”             That burned in my brain.         And ~ Edgar Allan Poe

316:When we were almost to the other campus, I felt the weird nausea hit me. I called a warning to Christian, just as a Strigoi grabbed him. But Christian was fast. Flames wreathed the Strigoi's head. He screamed and released Christian, trying frantically to put the flames out. The Strigoi never saw me coming with the stake. The whole thing took under a minute. Christian and I exchanged looks. Yeah. We were badasses. ~ Richelle Mead

317:One of the most thoughtless statements, parroted ad nauseam ever since rational concern for our environment exploded into an emotional syndrome, calls Man the only animal that soils its own nest. Every animal soils its nest with the products of its metabolism if unable to move away. Space technology gives us for the first time the freedom to leave our nest, at least for certain functions, in order not to soil it. ~ Krafft Arnold Ehricke

318:The man of the future who will redeem us not only from the hitherto reigning ideal but also from that which was bound to grow out of it, the great nausea, the will to nothingness, nihilism; this bell stroke of noon and of the great decision that liberates the will again and restores its goal to the earth and his hope to man; this Antichrist and anti-nihilist; this victor over God and nothingness - he must come one day. ~ Friedrich Nietzsche

319:I attended a breakfast meeting with Fielding...half way through...the cork of nausea abruptly popped in my throat. I only just made it to the adjacent can, which was large and acoustical; my imitation of an exploding hippopotamus came through the closed door in full quadraphonic. I got one or two funny glances on my return ..and if I were them, I'd enjoy the spectacle. It does my poor ticker good to see someone really totalled. ~ Martin Amis

320:Liv swallowed a sudden lump in her throat as she looked at the nauseating mess. Then she looked back up at Baird’s hopeful face and knew she couldn’t say a word. As irritating and arrogant as the big Kindred warrior was, he’d obviously tried hard and she just couldn’t bring herself to hurt his feelings. “Are you hungry?” He gave her a hopeful smile. “Uh…starved.” She tried to smile back but it wasn’t easy. “Good. We’ll eat. ~ Evangeline Anderson

321:Along with every other male of his acquaintance he loathed the Naked Chef with messianic passion and prayed for the day he suffered a fatal accident on his scooter or burst into flames with the friction of sliding down that nauseating banister. Mark hated to think how rich he must be. And the fact that a mere bloody cook was taking up space in The Times that could be filled by a train journalist. Like himself, for example. Bastard. ~ Wendy Holden

322:mothers suffered from major nausea and vomiting during pregnancy. When the children reached school age, 21 percent scored 130 or more points on a standard IQ test, a level considered gifted. If their mothers had no morning sickness, only 7 percent of kids did that well. The researchers have a theory—still to be proven—about why. Two hormones that stimulate a woman to vomit may also act like neural fertilizer for the developing brain. ~ John Medina

323:Tana started to shake like the trees, her limbs trembling, and was overcome by such a wave of nausea that she was barely able to twist onto her knees before she was sick in the grass. You said that you were allowed to lose it, some part of her reminded herself. Not yet, not yet, she told herself, although the very fact that she was renegotiating bargains with her own brain suggested things had already gotten pretty bad. ~ Holly Black

324:Chi non conosce Monaco, non solo non conosce la Germania, ma neppure l'arte tedesca. Il grande amore mi aveva preso per questa città, mi prendeva la nausea ogni volta che ripensavo a ieri, a quella babilonia di razze. Il fatto che io ottenessi dalla sorte una vera contentezza interiore, è da attribuirsi alla magia che la meravigliosa residenza versa su tutti coloro i quali sono dotati non solo di intelligenza ma anche di animo sentimentale ~ Adolf Hitler

325:Look... we're getting to be old men, and we've spent our lives looking for the weaknesses in one another's systems. I can see through Eastern values just as you can see through our Western ones. Both of us, I am sure, have experienced ad nauseam the technical satisfactions of this wretched war. But now your own side is going to shoot you. Don't you think it's time to recognise that there is as little worth on your side as there is on mine? ~ John le Carr

326:Look... we're getting to be old men, and we've spent our lives looking for the weaknesses in one another's systems. I can see through Eastern values just as you can see through our Western ones. Both of us, I am sure, have experienced ad nauseam the technical satisfactions of this wretched war. But now your own side is going to shoot you. Don't you think it's time to recognise that there is as little worth on your side as there is on mine? ~ John le Carre

327:outrage is like a lot of other things that feel good but, over time, devour us from the inside out. Except it’s even more insidious than most vices because we don’t even consciously acknowledge that it’s a pleasure. We prefer to think of it as a disagreeable but fundamentally healthy reaction to negative stimuli, like pain or nausea, rather than admit that it’s a shameful kick we eagerly indulge again and again, like compulsive masturbation. And, ~ Tim Kreider

328:Is he dead? Blue asked, staring down at the prostrate body. kitterick shook his head.'No,but he will remain in a coma for several hours.And there will be a substantial headache when he wakes up. And tremors.Something of a limp.Blurred vision.Impaired hearing.A few facialtics.Some nausea,loss of appetite, occasional hallucinations,flatulence,a weakness in the back. The nerve damage will repair itself in a few years.Providing he rests of course. ~ Herbie Brennan

329:I wish i could tell you that through the tragedy i mined some undiscovered, life-altering absolute that i could pass on to you.I didn't.The cliches apply-people are what count,life is precious,materialism is over rated, and the little things matter,live in the moment-and i can repeat them to you ad nauseam.you might listen, but you won't internalize.Tragedy hammers it hm.Tragedy etches into your soul.You might not be happier.But you will be better. ~ Harlan Coben

330:But for me there is neither Monday nor Sunday: there are days which pass in disorder, and then, sudden lightning like this one. Nothing has changed and yet everything is different. I can't describe it, it's like the Nausea and yet it's just the opposite: at last an adventure happens to me and when I question myself I see that it happens that I am myself and that I am here; I am the one who splits in the night, I am as happy as the hero of a novel. ~ Jean Paul Sartre

331:Existential nausea comes from feeling trapped. It is an affect state resulting from the feeling that the future has only bad options. Of course every human faces the fact of individual death, and therefore existential nausea must be to a certain extent a universal experience, and something that must be dealt with by one mental strategy or another. Most people appear to learn to ignore it, as if it were some low chronic pain that has to be endured. ~ Kim Stanley Robinson

332:Tom bends down, slips his hands into the waistband of my jeans, grabs hold of them and drags me along the floor into the kitchen. I’m kicking out with my legs, trying to get a hold of something, but I can’t. I can’t see properly—tears are stinging my eyes, everything is a blur. The pain in my head is excruciating as I bump along the floor, and I feel a wave of nausea come over me. There’s hot, white pain as something connects with my temple. Then nothing. ~ Paula Hawkins

333:In the seventies, a new slogan appeared: “Speed strategy!” This became yet another meaningless mouthful repeated ad nauseam at our study meetings. We also had to memorize Kim Il-sung’s Ten Commandments and then repeat them endlessly until they were chiseled into our brains for all time. In the end, I felt as though my very mind had been occupied. I can remember those commandments to this day. Well, of course I can. I’d have been dead long ago if I couldn’t. ~ Masaji Ishikawa

334:Leo hurried up to bed and hid under the covers. Under the covers he thought his life through. Although he soon fell asleep he could not sleep her out of his mind. He woke, beating his breast. Though he prayed to be rid of her, his prayers went unanswered. Through days of torment he endlessly struggled not to love her; fearing success, he escaped it. He then concluded to convert her to goodness, himself to God. The idea alternately nauseated and exalted him. ~ Bernard Malamud

335:[W]hat upset grownups of both sexes about Elvis' performance was that he had broken the deepest taboo of all. He used his body as rhythmically and erotically and seductively as a woman--that was the forbidden territory he had entered. It was not only repulsive and offensive--it was nauseating--the word most used. It was an attack on male dignity. The kids, however, not yet grown into the stereotypes of gender, saw in him an exhilarating physical freedom. ~ Elaine Dundy

336:Austerity has always made me happy, and its opposite, miserable. I find it strange that, knowing this, I should so often have inflicted upon myself the nausea of over-indulgence, and had to fight off the black dogs of satiety. Human beings, as Pascal points out, are peculiar in that they avidly pursue ends they know will bring them no satisfaction; gorge themselves with food which cannot nourish and with pleasures which cannot please. I am a prize example. ~ Malcolm Muggeridge

337:Her nausea increased, the dialect had become unfamiliar, the way our wet throats bathed the words in the liquid of saliva was intolerable. A sense of repulsion had invested all the bodies in movement, their bone structure, the frenzy that shook them. How poorly made we are, she thought, how insufficient. The broad shoulders, the arms, the legs, the ears, noses, eyes, seemed to her attributes of monstrous beings who had fallen from some corner of the black sky. ~ Elena Ferrante

338:Other players and at least one great composer—Beethoven—had lived with deafness, but hearing loss wasn’t where Hugh’s woes ended. There was the vertigo, the trembling, the periodic loss of vision. There was nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, galloping pulse. Worst of all was the almost constant tinnitus. He had always thought deafness meant silence. This was not true, at least not in his case. Hugh Yates had a constantly braying burglar alarm in the middle of his head. ~ Stephen King

339:Our huffing and puffing to impress God, our scrambling for brownie points, our thrashing about trying to fix ourselves while hiding our pettiness and wallowing in guilt are nauseating to God and are a flat denial of the gospel of grace. Our approach to the Christian life is as absurd as the enthusiastic young man who had just received his plumber’s license and was taken to see Niagara Falls. He studied it for a minute and then said, “I think I can fix this.”2 ~ Brennan Manning

340:The first had been on the voyage to India. I’d been seasick for much of it, particularly when we launched away from land at the Gulf of Aden and headed out into the Arabian Sea. The horizon stretched and pitched, when I could stand to look at it. Before the nausea set in, we had managed to make love on my narrow bunk, but the whole thing was such a tangle of elbows and knees and bumping chins, I barely knew the thing was happening before it was over. Afterwards, ~ Paula McLain

341:Liar,” I mumble, swimming in nausea and coughing up blood. My arms and legs feel weighted, and sticky streams ooze out of the gouges in my skin. “You left me.” “I’m still here, aren’t I?” Morpheus guides me down beside Ivory and exposes her birthmark, touching it to mine. Heat flashes along my body. “I’ve always believed in your power. For the queen I saw in you even as a child … for the woman you could never see in yourself. My faith is as unchanging as my age. ~ A G Howard

342:I was also reminded of one of the unique charms of NYC in the summer: vast piles of rotting garbage piled on the sidewalks, with that sweet yet nauseating smell of decomposing groceries sitting in the humid fetid air, and rancid food juices oozing over the sticky sidewalks. With my windows open to counter the stuffiness, I could occasionally catch a whiff of the stench outside. People actually like living in this chaotic, fetid monument to incompetence? Beats me. ~ Andrew Sullivan

343:She forced herself to sit up primly on the edge of the marble bench, repressing firmly the nausea she felt at its warm pressure, and she smoothed the black linen of her dress across her lap, and tucked in her hair, which had somehow come loose, and crossed her ankles decently, and took her black-edged handkerchief from her bosom and dried her eyes and wiped away the dampness and grime from her face. Now, she thought; I may go mad, but at least I look like a lady. ~ Shirley Jackson

344:It made economic sense, if you looked at it from the right angle; it was not in the Clan’s interest for the price of the commodity they shifted to drop—and drop it surely would, if it was legalized or if the pressure to keep up the war on drugs ever slackened. But for Mike Fleming, who’d willingly given the best years of his life to the DEA, it was a deeply unsettling idea; nauseating, even. Bought and sold: We’re doing the dealers’ work for them, keeping prices high. ~ Charles Stross

345:Um, Bella? You've got a huge cut on your forehead, and it's gushing blood," he informed me. I clapped my hand over my head. Sure enough, it was wet and sticky. I could smell nothing but the damp moss on my face, and that held off the nausea. Oh, I'm so sorry, Jacob." I pushed hard against the gash, as if I could force the blood back inside my head. Why are you apologizing for bleeding?" he wondered as he wrapped a long arm around my waist and and pulled me to my feet. ~ Stephenie Meyer

346:If you've heard Hillary Clinton's recent remarks on Ritalin and other drug use on children, you'll find the usual nauseating demagoguery. She appears to be urging Ritalin caution; but, if you listen carefully, she's calling it a miracle drug: "A Godsend for emotional and behavioral problems, for both children and their parents." She insists her efforts are not an attack on the medical treatment of children's emotional well-being because the drugs are very, very "useful." ~ Peter Breggin

347:Uri was turned, looking at him, shouting something, but at that point, Gabe couldn’t hear him. A moment later, Gabe felt like the car was spinning uncontrollably. The nausea overcame him and he seriously thought he might be sick. He looked down at Sophie to make sure she was still all right. His hands were holding her head gently, but they no longer seemed like his hands. There was a glowing, blue light coming from his palms. He began to hyperventilate. Everything went black. ~ Wendy Owens

348:I survived. Had I hit my head on the wall when Rutger had thrown me, I could’ve died today. Right now I could be dead instead of sitting here in my office, twenty feet from my home. My mom could be in the morgue, identifying me on a slab. My heart pounded in my chest. Nausea crept up, squeezing my throat. I leaned forward and concentrated on breathing. Deep, calm breaths. I just had to let myself work through it. In and out. In and out. Slowly the anxiety receded. In and out. ~ Ilona Andrews

349:And thus I learned that at Harvard, while knowing a great deal is the norm and knowing everything is the goal, appearing to know everything is an acceptable substitute. I pondered this great truth during the two-hour seminar. I was so buoyed up by it that I didn't pay enough attention to snorkeling up little bits of food in order to keep my nausea under control. I sailed right on into my next class, another seminar, confident that I could get through it without losing my lunch. ~ Martha N Beck

350:Um, Bella? You've got a huge cut on your forehead, and it's gushing blood," he informed me. I clapped my hand over my head. Sure enough, it was wet and sticky. I could smell nothing but the damp moss on my face, and that held off the nausea. Oh, I'm so sorry, Jacob." I pushed hard against the gash, as if I could force the blood back inside my head. Why are you apologizing for bleeding?" he wondered as he wrapped a long arm around my waist and and pulled me to my feet. ~ Stephenie Meyer

351:I have been blessed with many curses in my life, not the least of which was being born half Lebanese and half American. Throughout my life, these contradictory parts battled endlessly, clashed, never coming to a satisfactory conclusion. I shuffled ad nauseam between the need to assert my individuality and the need to belong to my clan, being terrified of loneliness and terrorized of losing myself in relationships. I was the black sheep of my family, yet an essential part of it. ~ Rabih Alameddine

352:I have been blessed with many curses in my life, not the least of which was being born half Lebanese and half American. Throughout my life, these contradictory parts battled endlessly, classed, never coming to a satisfactory conclusion. I shuffled ad nauseam between the need to assert my individuality and the need to belong to my clan, being terrified of loneliness and terrorized of losing myself in relationships. I was the black sheep of my family, yet an essential part of it. ~ Rabih Alameddine

353:I remember that one day, when we were in a car tooling along at top speed,we crashed into a cyclist, an apparently very young and very pretty girl. Her head was almost totally ripped off by the wheels. For a long time, we were parked a few yards beyond without getting out, fully absorbed in the sight of the corpse. The horror and despair at so much bloody flesh, nauseating in part, and in part very beautiful, was fairly equivalent to our usual impression upon seeing one another. ~ Georges Bataille

354:I sat at the foot of a huge tree, a statue of the night, and tried to make an inventory of all I had seen, heard, smelled, and felt: dizziness, horror, stupor, astonishment, joy, enthusiasm, nausea, inescapable attraction. What had attracted me? It was difficult to say: Human kind cannot bear much reality. Yes, the excess of reality had become an unreality, but that unreality had turned suddenly into a balcony from which I peered into—what? Into that which is beyond and still has no name… ~ Octavio Paz

355:Something, someone, some spirit was pursuing all of us across the desert of life and was bound to catch us before we reached heaven. Naturally, now that I look back on it, this is only death: death will overtake us before heaven. The one thing that we yearn for in our living days, that makes us sigh and groan and undergo sweet nauseas of all kinds, is the remembrance of some lost bliss that was probably experienced in the womb and can only be reproduced (though we hate to admit it) in death. ~ Jack Kerouac

356:And without formulating anything clearly, I understood that I had found the key to Existence, the key to my Nauseas, to my own life. In fact, all that I could grasp beyond that returns to this fundamental absurdity. Absurdity: another word; I struggle against words; down there I touched the thing. But I wanted to fix the absolute character of this absurdity here. A movement, an event in the tiny coloured world of men is only relatively absurd: by relation to the accompanying circumstances. ~ Jean Paul Sartre

357:He feels a nausea of distaste for them all; then sudden rage. Damn all food. Damn all life. He would like to abandon his shopping-cart, although it's already full of provisions.But that would make extra work for the clerks, and one of them is cute. The alternative, to put the whole lot back in the proper places himself, seems like a labour of Hercules; for the overpowering sloth of sadness is upon him. The sloth that ends in going to bed and staying there until you develop some disease. ~ Christopher Isherwood

358:Suck it up, soldier. The broccoli’s tree trunk or stalk or whatever people called it squeaked between his teeth, a little undercooked. Or maybe it was supposed to feel like that. Either way, he didn’t like it, so he chewed and swallowed as fast as he could. Then he dug up another forkful and did it again. He’d gotten through basic training by putting one reluctant foot in front of the other, and that’s how he got through Emma’s Chicken Divan. One squeaking, nauseating bite after another. ~ Shannon Stacey

359:I’d always worried about being practically empty, about having no serious reason for living. And now, confronted with the facts, I was sure of my individual nullity. In that environment, too different from the one where my petty habits were at home, I seem to have disintegrated, I felt very close to nonexistence. I discovered that with no one to speak to me of familiar things, there was nothing to stop me from sinking into irresistible boredom, a terrifying, sickly sweet torpor. Nauseating. ~ Louis Ferdinand C line

360:Men, too, secrete the inhuman. At certain moments of lucidity, the mechanical aspect of their gestures, their meaningless pantomime makes silly everything that surrounds them. A man is talking on the telephone behind a glass partition; you cannot hear him, but you see his incomprehensible dumb show: you wonder why he is alive. This discomfort in the face of man’s own inhumanity, this incalculable tumble before the image of what we are, this “nausea,” as a writer of today calls it, is also the absurd. ~ Albert Camus

361:The essential thing is contingency. I mean that, by definition, existence is not necessity. To exist is simply to be there; what exists appears, lets itself be encountered, but you can never deduce it...contingency is not an illusion, an appearance which can be dissipated; it is absolute, and consequently perfect gratuitousness. Everything is gratuitous, that park, this town, and myself. When you realise that, it turns your stomach over and everything starts floating about...; that is the Nausea. ~ Jean Paul Sartre

362:We must repeat: memory, thought, language, and logic are essential to human life. They are one half of sanity. But a person, a society, which is only half sane is insane. To look at life without words is not to lose the ability to form words—to think, remember, and plan. To be silent is not to lose your tongue. On the contrary, it is only through silence that one can discover something new to talk about. One who talked incessantly, without stopping to look and listen, would repeat himself ad nauseam. ~ Alan W Watts

363:said in testimony, the very idea that my decision had any impact on the outcome leaves me feeling mildly nauseous (or, as one of my grammatically minded daughters later corrected me, “nauseated”). That’s not because Donald Trump is such a deeply flawed person and leader (so flawed that he likely misunderstood what I meant when I testified that the notion of impact on the election left me “mildly nauseous”). It leaves me feeling sick because I have devoted my life to serving institutions I love precisely ~ James Comey

364:You can't imagine how much I hated middle school. Remember the way people would look at you blankly and say, "Um, okaaay," after you finished talking? Everyone just had to make it so clear that, whatever you were thinking or feeling, you were totally alone. The worst part, of course, was that I did the same thing to other people. It makes me a little nauseated just remembering that. So, basically, what I'm trying to say is that you should really give yourself a break. We were all awful then. ~ Becky Albertalli

365:Obviously, some part of us loves feeling 1) right and 2) wronged. But outrage is like a lot of other things that feel good but, over time, devour us from the inside out. Except it's even more insidious than most vices because we don't even consciously acknowledge it's a pleasure. We prefer to think of it as a disagreeable but fundamentally healthy reaction to negative stimuli, like pain or nausea, rather than admit that it's a shameful kick we eagerly indulge again and again, like compulsive masturbation. ~ Tim Kreider

366:A good poem is a tautology. It expands one word by adding a number which clarify it, thus making a new word which has never before been spoken. The seedword is always so ordinary that hardly anyone perceives it. Classical odes grow from and or because, romantic lyrics from but and if. Immature verses expand a personal pronoun ad nauseam, the greatest works bring glory to a common verb. Good poems, therefore, are always close to banality, over which, however, they tower like precipices. ~ Alasdair Gray

367:Still, death is a great teacher. It’s just too harsh. I wish I could tell you that through the tragedy I mined some undiscovered, life-altering absolute that I could pass on to you. I didn’t. The clichés apply—people are what count, life is precious, materialism is overrated, the little things matter, live in the moment—and I can repeat them to you ad nauseam. You might listen, but you won’t internalize. Tragedy hammers it home. Tragedy etches it onto your soul. You might not be happier. But you will be better. ~ Harlan Coben

368:Perhaps that is what made me sick with weary nausea. Here was no principle good or bad, no direction. These blowzy women, with their little hats and their clippings, hungered for attention. They wanted to be admired. They simpered in happy, almost innocent triumph when they were applauded. Theirs was the demented cruelty of egocentric children, and somehow this made their insensate beastliness much more heart-breaking. These were not mothers, not even women. They were crazy actors playing to a crazy audience. The ~ John Steinbeck

369:There are inner sufferings so subtle and so diffuse that we can’t tell whether they belong to the body or the soul, whether they’re an anxiety that comes from our feeling that life is futile or an indisposition originating in some organic abyss such as the stomach, liver or brain. How often my normal self-awareness becomes turbid with the stirred dregs of an anguished stagnation! How often it hurts me to exist, with a nausea so indefinite I’m not sure if it’s tedium or a warning that I’m about to vomit! How often… ~ Fernando Pessoa

370:You need your nausea. You need your pain. It is a message, and we must listen to the message. All these depressed and anxious people, all over the world—they are giving us a message. They are telling us something has gone wrong with the way we live. We need to stop trying to muffle or silence or pathologize that pain. Instead, we need to listen to it, and honor it. It is only when we listen to our pain that we can follow it back to its source—and only there, when we can see its true causes, can we begin to overcome it. ~ Johann Hari

371:Still, death is a great teacher. It's just too harsh. I wish i could tell you that through the tragedy I mined some undiscovered, life-altering absolute that I could pass on to you. I didn't. The clichés apply ― people are what count, life is precious, materialism is overrated, and the little things matter, live in the moment ― and I can repeat them to you ad nauseam. You might listen, but you won't internalize. Tragedy hammers it home. Tragedy etches into your soul. You might not be happier. But you will be better. ~ Harlan Coben

372:Get some ice on that.” “I will.” She turned toward the house, steady enough. “You get nauseated or have blurry vision, tell Greta.” Abigail started to nod, then checked the motion. He hoped she wouldn’t overdo it. He’d known one too many cowboys to take a fall, keep working, then keel over later. “Lie down and take it easy,” Wade called. “Yes, Dad,” Abigail said saucily. Wade clamped his lips together. Last thing he wanted was Abigail thinking fatherly thoughts of him. Heaven knew, his own weren’t going that direction. ~ Denise Hunter

373:To look at life without words is not to lose the ability to form words- to think, remember, and plan. To be silent is not to lose your tongue. On the contrary, it is only through silence that one can discover something new to talk about. One who talked incessantly, without stopping to look and listen, would repeat himself ad nauseam. It is the same with thinking, which is really silent talking. It is not, by itself, open to the discovery of anything new, for its only novelties are simply arrangements of old words and ideas. ~ Alan Watts

374:You need your nausea. You need your pain. It is a message, and we must listen to the message. All these depressed and anxious people, all over the world - they are giving us a message. They are telling us something has gone wrong with the way we live. We need to stop trying to muffle or silence or pathologize that pain. Instead, we need to listen to it, and honor it. It is only when we listen to our pain that we can follow it back to its source - and only there, when we can see its true causes, can we begin to overcome it. ~ Johann Hari

375:To look at life without words is not to lose the ability to form words—to think, remember, and plan. To be silent is not to lose your tongue. On the contrary, it is only through silence that one can discover something new to talk about. One who talked incessantly, without stopping to look and listen, would repeat himself ad nauseam. It is the same with thinking, which is really silent talking. It is not, by itself, open to the discovery of anything new, for its only novelties are simply rearrangements of old words and ideas. ~ Alan W Watts

376:So why does the world appear stable to you when you’re looking at it? Why doesn’t it appear as jerky and nauseating as the poorly filmed video? Here’s why: your internal model operates under the assumption that the world outside is stable. Your eyes are not like video cameras – they simply venture out to find more details to feed into the internal model. They’re not like camera lenses that you’re seeing through; they’re gathering bits of data to feed the world inside your skull." The Brain: The Story of You - David Eagleman ~ David Eagleman

377:Michelle shrugged off Sam’s aggression. Her eyes misted with memories. “Our curveball was a brain tumor. A grade IV astrocytoma, to be specific. He tried all the treatments—chemo, radiation, even surgery. Nothing helped alleviate his symptoms or his suffering. He was dying in the most horrible way. Seizures, nausea, blinding headaches, memory loss like an Alzheimer’s patient. I didn’t know what it was like to watch someone I love suffer so much, but I can relate to Julie’s pain because the experience was utterly excruciating. ~ Daniel Palmer

378:Since beginners can only remain in contact with the object of observation for short periods, initially one should meditate in brief sessions even eighteen times a day; in due course stability will be achieved of its own accord, at which time the session can be lengthened. It is important not to try at first to meditate for long periods; otherwise, upon sight of the meditation cushion, one will feel nausea and laziness. The session should be left while it is going well, when one still feels that it would go well if continued. ~ Jeffrey Hopkins

379:To look at life without words is not to lose the ability to form words- to think, remember, and plan. To be silent is not to lose your tongue. On the contrary, it is only through silence that one can discover something new to talk about. One who talked incessantly, without stopping to look and listen, would repeat himself ad nauseam. It is the same with thinking, which is really silent talking. It is not, by itself, open to the discovery of anything new, for its only novelties are simply arrangements of old words and ideas. ~ Alan W Watts

380:The sign above the door to the Hypocras Club read PROTEGO RES PUBLICA, engraved into white Italian marble. Miss Alexia Tarabotti, gagged, trussed, bound, and carried by two men—one holding her shoulders, the other her feet—read the words upside down. She had a screaming headache, and it took her a moment to translate the phrase through the nauseating aftereffects of chloroform exposure. Finally she deduced its meaning: to protect the commonwealth. Huh, she thought. / do not buy it. I definitely do not feel protected. ~ Gail Carriger

381:To go there with her and explain in greatest detail the goings-on, to suggest to her that perhaps the sickness she experiences, the nauseating turn, is her own internal structure cramped by the rise of a desire heretofore unknown. I would also suggest that the impulse to 'lose one's lunch,' to spill such rich and fine fare as the 3 or 4 peanut-butter and jelly sandwiches consumed under the elm by the canoe pond only an hour before, is not so much a mark of aversion as a pronouncement of attraction, the making room for greater possibility. ~ A M Homes

382:The game that she had played all her life was finished; she had no more to do: she had no game. She was angry and, picking up the card again, shuffled them carefully and started to lay them out in the same old pattern, but she had only laid down nine cards when she was seized with such a violent nausea, such a feeling of the emptiness and aimlessness of the game - thinking that she might have to go through another fifteen or twenty years before it came out again! - that she gathered them quickly and threw them into her drawer loosely. ~ Christina Stead

383:She was experiencing all those familiar symptoms of a relationship breakup. The nausea. The sensation of something huge and hard lodged in the center of her chest. That trembly, teary feeling. She wasn’t supposed to ever have to feel this way again. Breakups were meant to be something from her youth. Painful memories. Actually not that painful, because it was sort of nice to look fondly back at her younger self and think, “Oh you silly thing, crying over that jerk.” This was meant to be her grown-up relationship. The one that lasted forever. ~ Liane Moriarty

384:It happened so quickly that her stomach was still heaving. She breathed deeply to quieten it, but it would not stay still. She felt herself turning green with nausea, and she put her head down; try as she might she could not think, she only knew, and what she knew was this: The one human being she had ever fully and wholeheartedly trusted had failed her; the only man she had ever known to whom she could point and say with expert knowledge, “He is a gentleman, in his heart he is a gentleman,” had betrayed her, publicly, grossly, and shamelessly. ~ Harper Lee

385:Outrage is like a lot of other things that feel good but, over time, devour us from the inside out. Except it’s even more insidious than most vices because we don’t even consciously acknowledge that it’s a pleasure. We prefer to think of it as a disagreeable but fundamentally healthy reaction to negative stimuli, like pain or nausea, rather than admit that it’s a shameful kick we eagerly indulge again and again. . . . [It is] outrage porn, selected specifically to pander to our impulse to judge and punish, to get us off on righteous indignation.[1] ~ Scott Sauls

386:Sunday has left them with a taste of ashes and their thoughts are already turning towards Monday. But for me there is neither Monday nor Sunday: there are days which pass in disorder, and then, sudden lightning like this one. Nothing has changed and yet everything is different. I can't describe it; it's like the Nausea and yet it's just the opposite: at last an adventure happens to me and when I question myself I see that it happens that I am myself and that I am here; I am the one who splits the night, I am as happy as the hero of a novel. ~ Jean Paul Sartre

387:Director Michelle MacLaren is the John Cage of this malevolent silence, able to wield it as precisely as a pointillist with a paintbrush. And with 'To'hajiilee,' the final episode of Breaking Bad she'll ever direct, she has painted her masterpiece. Under the unblinking eye of her relentless camera, this was television not as entertainment but as endurance. It was agonizing, nauseating, unbearable. I loved every minute but hated every second. I couldn't wait for it to be over but I never wanted it to end. And I especially never wanted it to end like that. ~ Andy Greenwald

388:You are a sinner and a heathen," he said. Akua nodded. The teachers had told them this before. "Your mother had no husband when she came here to me, pregnant, begging for help. I helped her because that is what God would have wanted me to do. But she was a sinner and heathen, like you." Again Akua nodded. The fear was starting to settle somewhere in her stomach, making her feel nauseated. "All people on the black continent must give up their heathenism and turn to God. Be thankful that the British are here to show you how to live a good and moral life. ~ Yaa Gyasi

389:At first, the woman thought she had snagged her leg on a rock or a piece of floating wood. There was no initial pain, only one violent tug on her right leg. She reached down to touch her foot, treading water with her left leg to keep her head up, feeling in the blackness with her left hand. She could not find her foot. She reached higher on her leg, and then she was overcome by a rush of nausea and dizziness. Her groping fingers had found a nub of bone and tattered flesh. She knew that the warm, pulsing flow over her fingers in the chill water was her own blood. ~ Peter Benchley

390:Love made us partners in narcissism, and we talked ceaselessly about how close we were, how perfect our connection was, like we were the first people in history to ever get it exactly right. We were that couple for a while, nauseatingly impervious assholes, busy staring into each other’s eyes while everyone else was trying to have a good time. When I think about how stupid we were, how obstinately clueless about the realities that awaited us, I just want to go back to that skinny, cocksure kid with his bloated heart and perennial erection, and kick his teeth in. ~ Jonathan Tropper

391:Vee stood and looked at him, this large man in her kitchen who had never learned – never been taught – the meaning of obligation, and with a slow surge of despair that was almost like nausea she realized that the calamities of the day, every last one of them, had simply been lying in wait for her; not the actions of cruel fate but a series of tripwires lovingly laid by herself. She’d asked for nothing from her mother and her son and she’d expected nothing from them, either, and now she’d received nothing, not even thanks. She was face down in the mud, and on her own. ~ Lissa Evans

392:He thought, I know what my idea of heaven would be, if by heaven we mean a place of bliss in which to pass eternity: a sanctuary where one might chain-smoke without impairment of breathing, destruction of the lungs, or damage to the heart, light each fresh cigarette from the glowing butt of its predecessor, and drink ice-free but hundred-proof chilled vodka laced with two drops of angostura and a gill of newly opened Perrier endlessly, with increasing euphoria, until a peak of joy and ease was reached but without any subsequent nausea or pain or dehydration or oblivion… ~ Barbara Vine

393:The sky was so heartless and dark, and her body, her head, and particularly those damned thirsty trousers, felt clogged with Oceanus Nox, n,o,x. At every slap and splash of cold wild salt, she heaved with anise-flavored nausea and there was an increasing number, okay, or numbness in her neck and arms. As she began losing track of herself, she thought it proper to inform a series of receding Lucettes -- telling them to pass it on and on in a trick-crystal regression -- that what death amounted to was only a more complete assortment of the infinite fractions of solitude. ~ Vladimir Nabokov

394:A common image of hell in the Bible is that of fire.10 Fire disintegrates. Even in this life we can see the kind of soul disintegration that self-centeredness creates. We know how selfishness and self-absorption leads to piercing bitterness, nauseating envy, paralyzing anxiety, paranoid thoughts, and the mental denials and distortions that accompany them. Now ask the question: “What if when we die we don’t end, but spiritually our life extends on into eternity?” Hell, then, is the trajectory of a soul, living a self-absorbed, self-centered life, going on and on forever. ~ Timothy J Keller

395:And I saw the roof of the shack in Hanoi where my mother lived. Sheet metal patched together with tar paper. On rainy days, the roof leaked. In the heat of summer, the acrid smell of tar was overpowering, nauseating. All around, the gutters, gurgling under slabs of cement, flowed from one house to the next. Children played in this filthy black water, sailing their little white paper boats. The few mangy patches of grass were at the foot of the wall where men drunk on too much beer came to relieve themselves. The place reeked of urine. This was my street. I had grown up here. ~ D ng Thu H ng

396:Consider the oddity of those drug commercials on television. Fifteen seconds of the purported therapeutic effort, followed by about 45 seconds of a rapidly muttered list of horrific possible side effects. When the ad is over, I can't remember a thing about what the pill is supposed to do, except perhaps cause nausea, liver damage, projectile vomiting, a nasty rash, a four-hour erection, and sudden death. Sudden death is my favorite because there is something comical about it being a side effect. What exactly is the main effect in that case? Relief from abdominal bloating? ~ Charles Krauthammer

397:It was a grief and a fear too ancient for me, it was a sorrow bred into the essence of the race. I saluted it, and passed on, for like the early all-pervading nausea, this was part of my living, kneaded into my fibres, a necessity like breathing and associated with it: this cold, this weight, this pulling and dragging and compelling. It was too old a lodestone for any individual to fight away from, or even to accurately know or place. It was there. [...] There it lay, just out of sight, deadly and punishing, for its pulse was that of a cold heaviness, it had to be a counterweight to joy. ~ Doris Lessing

398:The answer to this question is obvious - if only because it has been patiently articulated ad nauseam by bin Laden himself. The answer is that men like bin Laden actually believe what they say they believe. They believe in the literal truth of the Koran. Why did nineteen well-educated middle-class men trade their lives in this world for the privilege of killing thousands of our neighbors? because they believed that they would go straight to paradise for doing so. It is rare to find the behavior of humans so fully and satisfactorily explained. Why have we been so reluctant to accept this explanation? ~ Sam Harris

399:To me, bad taste is what entertainment is all about. If someone vomits watching one of my films, it's like getting a standing ovation. But one must remember that there is such a thing as good bad taste and bad bad taste. it's easy to disgust someone; I could make a ninety-minute film of people getting their limbs hacked off, but this would only be bad bad taste and not very stylish or original. To understand bad taste one must have very good taste. Good bad taste can be creatively nauseating but must, at the same time, appeal to the especially twisted sense of humor, which is anything but universal. ~ John Waters

400:This was a plunge encompassing sorrow and revulsion far beyond the personal: a sick, drenching nausea at all humanity and human endeavor from the dawn of time. The writhing loathsomeness of the biological order. Old age, sickness, death. No escape for anyone. Even the beautiful ones were like soft fruit about to spoil. And yet somehow people still kept fucking and breeding and popping out new fodder for the grave, producing more and more new beings to suffer like this was some kind of redemptive, or good, or even somehow morally admirable thing: dragging more innocent creatures into the lose-lose game. ~ Donna Tartt

401:You may not have noticed, but I’m not what you’d call conventionally beautiful. In fact, you might say that I’m the opposite of that. Say, you know - to vocalize, sometimes ad nauseam? Do you think that there’s any minute in any day when I’m not aware of how big I am? Do you think there’s a single minute that goes by when I’m not thinking about how other people see me? Even though I have no control whatsoever over that? Don’t get me wrong - I love my body. But I’m not so much of an idiot to think that everybody else loves it. What really gets to me- what really bothers me - is that it’s all people see. ~ David Levithan

402:Non sapeva quale incantesimo avesse fatto Campanellino, ma la ferita infetta non gli faceva più male e la nausea e la stanchezza all’improvviso erano scomparse. Sentiva ancora una strana sensazione di calore intorno alla ferita, ma sembrava concentrata in un unico punto invece che diffusa in tutto il suo corpo. Si chiese quanto tempo avrebbe avuto prima di vedere i punti disfarsi e la ferita infettarsi di nuovo. Era successo tutto così velocemente la prima volta. Rimase ancora seduto, paralizzato dalla paura di morire e dal timore ancora più grande di cominciare a piangere senza essere capace di fermarsi mai più ~ Austin Chant

403:There is no escape. You can’t be a vagabond and an artist and still be a solid citizen, a wholesome, upstanding man. You want to get drunk, so you have to accept the hangover. You say yes to the sunlight and pure fantasies, so you have to say yes to the filth and the nausea. Everything is within you, gold and mud, happiness and pain, the laughter of childhood and the apprehension of death. Say yes to everything, shirk nothing. Don’t try to lie to yourself. You are not a solid citizen. You are not a Greek. You are not harmonious, or the master of yourself. You are a bird in the storm. Let it storm! Let it drive you! ~ Hermann Hesse

404:Edward ignored him. “You look awful,” he told me, grinning. “Put me back on the sidewalk,” I moaned. The rocking movement of his walk was not helping. He held me away from his body, gingerly, supporting all my weight with just his arms—it didn’t seem to bother him. “So you faint at the sight of blood?” he asked. This seemed to entertain him. I didn’t answer. I closed my eyes again and fought the nausea with all my strength, clamping my lips together. “And not even your own blood,” he continued, enjoying himself. I don’t know how he opened the door while carrying me, but it was suddenly warm, so I knew we were inside. ~ Stephenie Meyer

405:The word absurdity is coming to life under my pen; a little while ago, in the garden, I couldn't find it, but neither was I looking for it, I didn't need it: I thought without words, on things, with things. Absurdity was not an idea in my head, or the sound of a voice, only this long serpent dead at my feet, this wooden serpent. Serpent or claw or root or vulture's talon, what difference does it make. And without formulating anything clearly, I understood that I had found the key to Existence, the key to my Nauseas, to my own life. In fact, all that I could grasp beyond that returns to this fundamental absurdity. ~ Jean Paul Sartre

406:AAAAAAAAAAHHH !! (That was me screaming in frustration!) I can’t believe I overslept! AGAIN! Now I’m probably going to be late for school! WHY?!! Because my bratty little sister, Brianna, has been sneaking into my bedroom at night and stealing my alarm clock! She’s been using it to get up extra early to make a peanut butter, jelly, and pickle sandwich to take to school for lunch. YES! She actually adds PICKLES! I don’t know which is more NAUSEATING, Brianna or her disgusting sandwich! Anyway, now I have less than three minutes to shower, shampoo, brush, dress, pack, eat, gloss, and GO! This is how my very CRUDDY day began. . . . ~ Rachel Ren e Russell

407:It has been remarked thousands of times that Christ died under torture. Many of us have read so often that he was a “humble carpenter” that we feel a little surge of nausea on seeing the words yet again. But no one ever seems to notice that the instruments of torture were wood, nails, and a hammer; that the man who built the cross was undoubtedly a carpenter too; that the man who hammered in the nails was as much a carpenter as a soldier, as much a carpenter as a torturer. Very few seem even to have noticed that although Christ was a “humble carpenter,” the only object we are specifically told he made was not a table or a chair, but a whip. ~ Gene Wolfe

408:So the experience I have of my everyday work environment is of a conformist, claustrophobic and repressive verbal universe, a penitential domain of reason-mongering in which hyperactivity in detail—the endlessly repeated shouts of “why,” the rebuttals, calls for “evidence,” qualifications and quibbles—stands in stark contrast to the immobility and self-referentiality of the structure as a whole. I suffer from recurrent bouts of nausea in the face of this densely woven tissue of “arguments,” most of which are nothing but blinds for something else altogether, generally something unsavory; and I feel an urgent need to exit from it altogether. ~ Raymond Geuss

409:It came to him that he had turned away from the buffalo not because of a womanish nausea at blood and stench and spilling gut; it came to him that he had sickened and turned away because of his shock at seeing the buffalo, a few moments before proud and noble and full of the dignity of life, now stark and helpless, a length of inert meat, divested of itself, or his notion of its self, swinging grotesquely, mockingly, before him. It was not itself; or it was not that self that he had imagined it to be. That self was murdered; and in that murder he had felt the destruction of something within him, and he had not been able to face it. So he had turned away. ~ John Williams

410:From the pit of his stomach a violent spasm of nausea rose up and seized his throat. He ran to the bathroom, barely able to stand, knelt down in front of the toilet and started to vomit. He vomited the whiskey he'd just drunk, vomited what he'd eaten that day as well as what he'd eaten the day before, and the day before that, and he felt, with his sweaty head now entirely inside the toilet bowl and a sharp pain in his side, as if he were endlessly vomiting up the entire time of his life on earth, going all the way back to the pap he was given as a baby, and when, at last, he'd expelled his own mother's milk, he kept vomiting poison bitterness, bile, pure hatred. ~ Andrea Camilleri

411:I am quite scandalous, you see. I come packaged with unpredictable moments, brutal honesty, calamitous outbursts, the ghastly need for love, a fiendish lack of filter, the horrific need to question everything, nauseating affection, offensive kindness, indecent spirituality, obscene beauty, monstrous creativity, barbaric embellishments, contemptuous passion, sinful childhood traumas, unscrupulous hobbies, vexatious caring, abominable sensitivity, reprehensible humor, hideous sarcasm, displeasing feelings, unpalatable confidence, offensive compassion, villainous inspiration and a devilish wit. I am quite grotesque in my imperfectness and I am not ashamed to admit it. ~ Shannon L Alder

412:Ditto for the stereotype about men monopolizing conversations. Like Sasha, many of my dates—even the more passive ones—did most of the talking. I listened to them talk literally for hours about the most minute, mind-numbing details of their personal lives; men they were still in love with, men they had divorced, roommates and coworkers they hated, childhoods they were loath to remember, yet somehow found the energy to recount ad nauseam. Listening to them was like undergoing a slow frontal lobotomy. I sat there stunned by the social ineptitude of people to whom it never seemed to occur that no one, much less a first date, would have any interest in enduring this ordeal. ~ Norah Vincent

413:same threat-level warning issued ad nauseam. The security mandates—empty your pockets, remove your shoes, laptops out, gels and liquids in separate bags—repeated so many times that eventually everyone stopped hearing them. All of this so reflexive and automatic and habituated and slow that the travelers were a little zoned out and playing with their phones and just simply enduring this uniquely modern, first world ordeal that is not per se “difficult” but is definitely exhausting. Spiritually debilitating. Everyone feeling a small ache of regret, suspecting that, as a people, we could do better. But we don’t. The line for a McRib was quiet and solemn and twenty people deep. ~ Nathan Hill

414:You can all supply your own favorite, most nauseating examples of the commodification of love. Mine include the wedding industry, TV ads that feature cute young children or the giving of automobiles as Christmas presents, and the particularly grotesque equation of diamond jewelry with everlasting devotion. The message, in each case, is that if you love somebody you should buy stuff. A related phenomenon is the ongoing transformation, courtesy of Facebook, of the verb 'to like' from a state of mind to an action that you perform with your computer mouse: from a feeling to an assertion of consumer choice. And liking, in general, is commercial culture's substitution for loving. ~ Jonathan Franzen

415:I’m going to faint, Norman thought, just as his legs gave way, and he sat down hard on the stage. The world came back in a snap, led by the nauseating sound of Alvin’s Hyena Laugh. “Normie fell down and go boom, baby! Look at him! He’s white as a sheet! Whassamatter, Norm, you look like you saw a ghost! Get it? Get it? A ghost!” The laughter of Alvin and his Meaty Henchmen was momentarily drowned out by the sound of the bell. Leaving his script where it had fallen, Norman jumped to his feet and sped out of the gym. For just a moment, he was the only person in the hallway—everything looked oddly deserted and devoid of human life. Like how a school might look in a ghost town. ~ Elizabeth Cody Kimmel

416:One watches them on the seashore, all the people, and there is something pathetic, almost wistful in them, as if they wished their lives did not add up to this scaly nullity of possession, but as if they could not escape. It is a dragon that has devoured us all: these obscene, scaly houses, this insatiable struggle and desire to possess, to possess always and in spite of everything, this need to be an owner, lest one be owned. It is too hideous and nauseating. Owners and owned, they are like the two sides of a ghastly disease. One feels a sort of madness come over one, as if the world had become hell. But it is only superimposed: it is only a temporary disease. It can be cleaned away. ~ D H Lawrence

417:It wasn’t just other writers who weighed in. The comments section of Shawna’s article blew up. “I might need a whole day to myself to recharge after a party, and I really feel like I was hung over: headache, nausea, fatigue, the whole shebang,” one reader comments. Another agrees: “I often need the next day to recover, which is why I try really hard to never schedule two days of socializing back to back.” And: “I definitely become physically unwell if I overextend.” When Shawna wrote about her experiences, she had no idea she would hit on a topic that resonated so deeply with many introverts. It turns out Shawna was not alone in her introvert hangover. The introvert hangover is real. ~ Jenn Granneman

418:Thus Aretaeus describes it, under the name of Heterocrania: And in certain cases the whole head is pained, and the pain is sometimes on the right, and sometimes on the left side, or the forehead, or the fontanelle; and such attacks shift their place during the same day … This is called Heterocrania, an illness by no means mild … It occasions unseemly and dreadful symptoms … nausea; vomiting of bilious matters; collapse of the patient … there is much torpor, heaviness of the head, anxiety; and life becomes a burden. For they flee the light; the darkness soothes their disease; nor can they bear readily to look upon or hear anything pleasant … The patients are weary of life and wish to die. ~ Oliver Sacks

419:So far, she had nothing but fear and the nauseating sensation that the hour would pass and she would be just as helpless as when she’d first left the Fuller house. The same problems that had plagued her before were on an endless loop that took up every conscious thought. Her mother: persistently unavailable. Huckleberry: worthless. Jacob Mayhew: probably working for the congressman. Fred Nolan: ditto, or maybe he had his own agenda. Congressman Johnny Jackson: Paul’s secret uncle. Powerful and connected, and duplicitous enough to stand with the Kilpatrick family during press conferences, as if he had no idea what had happened to their precious child. Adam Quinn: possible friend or foe. ~ Karin Slaughter

420:But perhaps the most alarming ingredient in a Chicken McNugget is tertiary butylhydroquinone, or TBHQ, an antioxidant derived from petroleum that is either sprayed directly on the nugget or the inside of the box it comes in to "help preserve freshness." According to A Consumer's Dictionary of Food Additives, TBHQ is a form of butane (i.e. lighter fluid) the FDA allows processors to use sparingly in our food: It can comprise no more than 0.02 percent of the oil in a nugget. Which is probably just as well, considering that ingesting a single gram of TBHQ can cause "nausea, vomiting, ringing in the ears, delirium, a sense of suffocation, and collapse." Ingesting five grams of TBHQ can kill. ~ Michael Pollan

421:Artur Schnabel, one of the towering pianists of the twentieth century. Modified in tone but not spirit from Schnabel’s interview remarks in Chicago the same year Germany surrendered to the Allies. She also knew this was about as high a compliment as Paul Mandelbaum was capable of making. Schnabel’s performances of the thirty-two Beethoven sonatas were possibly the only thing her mentor was capable of carrying on about ad nauseam. You were never going to enter his pantheon of star pupils unless you gave yourself over, heart and soul, to Schnabel’s interpretation of Beethoven’s Klaviersonaten and the virtuoso’s idea that the greatest music was that which is “better than it can be performed. ~ Bradford Morrow

422:Since you made it clear you didn't want to hear anything about [your son], I was obliged to act behind your back.' 'I understand. You had no choice.' 'And I should not distress you now, if I were not obliged to do something that you might never forgive.' He swallowed nausea and pride in one gulp. 'Jess, the only unforgivable thing you can do is leave me,' he said. 'Se mi lasci mi uccido. If you leave me, I'll kill myself.' 'Don't be ridiculous,' she said. 'I should never leave you. Really, Dain, I cannot think where you get such addled ideas.' Then, as though this explained and settled everything, she promptly returned to the main subject, and told him what had happened that day ~ Loretta Chase

423:Therefore it seems to me that everything that exists is good - death as well as life, sin as well as holiness, wisdom as well as folly. Everything is necessary, everything needs only my agreement, my assent, my loving understanding, then all is well with me and nothing can harm me. I learned through my body and soul that it was necessary for me to sin, that I needed lust, that I had to strive for property and experience nausea and the depths of despair in order to learn not to resist them, in order to learn to love the world, and no longer compare it with some kind of desired imaginary world, some imaginary vision of perfection, but to leave it as it is, to love it and be glad to belong to it. ~ Hermann Hesse

424:But what a path it has been! I have had to experience so much stupidity, so many vices, so much error, so much nausea, disillusionment and sorrow, just in order to become a child again and begin anew. But it was right that it should be so; my eyes and heart acclaim it. I had to experience despair, I had to sink to the greatest mental depths, to thoughts of suicide, in order to experience grace, to hear Om again, to sleep deeply again and to awaken refreshed again. I had to become a fool again in order to find Atman in myself. I had to sin in order to live again. Whither will my path lead me? This path is stupid, it goes in spirals, perhaps in circles, but whichever way it goes, I will follow it. ~ Hermann Hesse

425:In the midst of his euphoria, Sharko suddenly felt a surge of nausea and squinted his eyes. Over there, standing apart from the crowd, was a man plunged in darkness, wearing a mustache and a hat that looked like a beret. Hassan Noureddine. The man stepped to the side and disappeared down a street. The Frenchman tried to open a path toward him, but the human flow jostled him. He forced his way through the crowd, the tide of arms, and began running. When he arrived at the square, the police chief had vanished. Sharko moved forward into the deserted alleyways, turned in every direction, then finally stopped, alone in the middle of the silent houses. They were following him. Even here. What did that mean? ~ Franck Thilliez

426:Oh, fish sauce! How we missed it, dear Aunt, how nothing tasted right without it, how we longed for the grand cru of Phu Quoc Island and its vats brimming with the finest vintage of pressed anchovies! This pungent liquid condiment of the darkest sepia hue was much denigrated by foreigners for its supposedly horrendous reek, lending new meaning to the phrase "there's something fishy aroud here," for we were the fishy ones. We used fish sauce the way Transylvanian villagers were cloves of garlic to ward off vampires, in our case to establish a perimeter with those Westerners who could never understand that was truly fishy was the nauseating stench of cheese. What was fermented fish compared to curdled milk? ~ Viet Thanh Nguyen

427:A certain French nobleman always used to blow his nose with his fingers, something quite opposed to our customs. Defending his action (and he was famous for his repartee) he asked me why that filthy mucus should be so privileged that we should prepare fine linen to receive it and then, going even further, should wrap it up and carry it carefully about on our persons; that practice ought to excite more loathing and nausea than seeing him simply excrete it (wherever it might be) as we do all our other droppings. I considered that what he said was not totally unreasonable, but habit had prevented me from noticing just that strangeness which we find so hideous in similar customs in another country. Miraculous ~ Michel de Montaigne

428:Cúbrete el rostro y llora. Vomita. ¡Sí! Vomita, largos trozos de vidrio, amargos alfileres, turbios gritos de espanto, vocablos carcomidos; sobre este purulento desborde de inocencia, ante esta nauseabunda iniquidad sin cauce, y esta castrada y fétida sumisión cultivada en flatulentos caldos de terror y ayuno. Cúbrete el rostro y llora… pero no te contengas. Vomita. ¡Sí! Vomita, ante esta paranoica estupidez macabra, sobre este delirante cretinismo estentóreo y esta senil orgía de egoísmo prostático: lacios coágulos de asco, macerada impotencia, rancios jugos de hastío, trozos de amarga espera… horas entrecortadas por relinchos de angustia. ~ Oliverio Girondo

429:The words written down are dirty, carefully and selectedly filthy. But there was something far worse here than dirt, a kind of frightening witches’ Sabbath. Here was no spontaneous cry of anger, of insane rage. Perhaps that is what made me sick with weary nausea. Here was no principle good or bad, no direction. These blowzy women, with their little hats and their clippings, hungered for attention. They wanted to be admired. They simpered in happy, almost innocent triumph when they were applauded. Theirs was the demented cruelty of egocentric children, and somehow this made their insensate beastliness much more heart-breaking. These were not mothers, not even women. They were crazy actors playing to a crazy audience. ~ John Steinbeck

430:Ditto for the stereotype about men monopolizing conversations. Like Sasha, many of my dates—even the more passive ones—did most of the talking. I listened to them talk literally for hours about the most minute, mind-numbing details of their personal lives; men they were still in love with, men they had divorced, roommates and coworkers they hated, childhoods they were loath to remember, yet somehow found the energy to recount ad nauseam. Listening to them was like undergoing a slow frontal lobotomy. I sat there stunned by the social ineptitude of people to whom it never seemed to occur that no one, much less a first date, would have any interest in enduring this ordeal. This was a human, not a male or female, failing. ~ Norah Vincent

431:Then Siddhartha had spent the night at his house with dancers and wine, had pretended to be superior to his companions, which he no longer was. He had drunk much wine and later after midnight he went to bed, tired and yet agitated, nearly in tears and in despair. In vain did he try to sleep. His heart was so full of misery, he felt he could no longer endure it. He was full of nausea which overpowered him like a distasteful wine, or music that was too sweet and superficial, or like the too sweet smile of the dancers or the too sweet perfume of their hair and breasts. But above all he was nauseated with himself, with his perfumed hair, with the smell of the wine from his mouth, with the soft, flabby appearance of his skin. ~ Hermann Hesse

432:The residence sat toward the back of the property, which sloped up across a masterfully landscaped yard shaded with maple and spruce trees, dotted with stone sculptures—fountains, birdbaths, angels—and not a leaf to be seen on the pockets of lush green grass. An engine turned over near the house. Letty stepped off the drive and crawled into a thicket of mountain laurel as a boxy Mercedes G-Class rolled past. Through the branches and tinted glass, she glimpsed Chase at the wheel, a young boy in a booster in the backseat. The car ride over had only intensified her nausea, and as the diesel engine faded away, she put her finger down her throat and retched in the leaves. She felt instantly better. Weaker. Less drunk. But better. ~ Blake Crouch

433:Like all men endowed with great mental mobility, I have an irrevocable, organic love of settledness. I abhor new ways of life and unfamiliar places. 122. The idea of travelling nauseates me. I’ve already seen what I’ve never seen. I’ve already seen what I have yet to see. The tedium of the forever new, the tedium of discovering – behind the specious differences we see in things and ideas – the unrelenting sameness of everything, the absolute similarity of a mosque and a temple and a church, the exact equivalence of a cabin and a castle, the same structural body for a king in robes and for a naked savage, the eternal concordance of life with itself, the stagnation of everything that lives just because it moves* … Landscapes ~ Fernando Pessoa

434:It’s terrible to confirm that a system born to rescue human dignity has resorted to rewards, glorification, the encouragement of denunciations, and feeds on everything that is humanly vile. I feel the nausea rise in my throat when I hear people say: they’ve shot M., they’ve shot P., shot, shot, shot. The words, after hearing them so much, lose their meaning. The people say them with greater calm, as if they were saying: we’re going to the theater. I, who lived these years in fear and felt the compulsion to denounce (I confess so with terror, but without any feeling of guilt), have lost in my mind the brutal semantics of the verb ‘to shoot’ … I feel that we’ve reached the end of justice on earth, the limits of human dignity. ~ Leonardo Padura

435:I hate when a man feels I’m obligated to disclose my marital status to somebody I don’t even know. Even this bullshit about status itself as if married and spinster are the only two choices for defining myself. Or because I’m a woman I’m supposed to have a status at all. Hey big boy, here’s my status. Hi, before I tell you my name here’s my status. Maybe I should just say I’m a lesbian and throw the problem back in their faces for them to define it. Xanax for anxiety. Valium for sleep. Prozac for depression. Phenergan for nausea. Tylenol for headaches. Mylanta for bloating. Midol for cramps. I mean, Jesus Christ, menopause come already. Isn’t there some fast-track for a hot flash? It’s not like I’m ever going to breed, so why keep the damn store door open? ~ Marlon James

436:The shopkeeper is very efficient, has an efficient home delivery system and knows the tastes and price considerations of his customers. But he is labelled ‘unorganized’ by our experts and national income data and his contribution thereby diminished. The footfalls in his shop cannot be measured using Western models [since there is no place to keep anybody’s foot inside his shop!] and so he is derided and abused. It is like clubbing housewives along with prostitutes in our Census data to show them that they are involved in ‘unproductive’ activities. These are economic constructs imposed by the west on the rest and it is a form of terminological terrorism which is mouthed ad-nauseam by our economists and policy planners without understanding their implications. ~ R Vaidyanathan

437:Arin remmembered seeing her hand in Javelin’s mane, curling into the coarse strands. This made him remember the almost freakish lenghth between her littlest finger and thumb as her hand spanned piano keys. The black star of the birth-mark. He saw her again in the imperial palace. Her music room. He’d seen that room only once. About a month ago, right before Firstsummer. Her blue sleeves were fastened at the wrist. Something tugged inside him. A flutter of unease. Do you sing? Those had been her first words to him, the day she had bought him. A band of nausea circled Arin’s throat, just as it had when she had asked him that question, in part for the same reason. She’d had no trace of an accent. She had spoken in perfect, natural, mother-taught Herrani. ~ Marie Rutkoski

438:He got a booklet out of a folder. 'This is the Minnesota Multiphasic Personality Inventory. It's a standardized psychometric test we use to assess and analyze an individual's personality dynamic. It's got about six hundred true-or-false questions. You fill this out and then the computer will generate a report.' Well, I thought this was absolutely perfect! I was just delighted with the idea that psychodiagnostic algorithms would generate a posthumanist psychiatric profile for me for the autobiography. And both the Imaginary Intern and I felt this would really streamline the process, that it would save us a tremendous amount of work, and obviate the need for all that cloying introspection and redemptive candor that we both found so nauseating and counterrevolutionary. ~ Mark Leyner

439:This is not what I had in mind," she muttered to Bill,who was hovering,always,on the rim of the cupboard next to her washtub. She still wasn't used to being the only one in the kitchen who could see him. It made her nervous every time he hovered over other members of the staff,making dirty jokes that only Luce could hear and no one-besides Bill-ever laughed at. "You children of the millenium have absolutely no work ethic," he said. "Keep your voice down,by the way." Luce unclenched her jaw. "If scrubbing this disgusting soup tureen had anything to do with understanding my past, my work ethic would make your head spin. But this is pointless." She waved a cast iron skillet in Bill's face.Its handle was slick with pork grease. "Not to mention nauseating. ~ Lauren Kate

440:The most racking pangs succeeded: a grinding in the bones, deadly nausea, and a horror of the spirit that cannot be exceeded at the hour of birth or death. Then these agonies began swiftly to subside, and I came to myself as if out of a great sickness. There was something strange in my sensations, something indescribably sweet. I felt younger, lighter, happier in body; within I was conscious of a heady recklessness, a current of disordered sensual images running like a millrace in my fancy, a solution of the bonds of obligation, an unknown but innocent freedom of the soul. I knew myself, at the first breath of this new life, to be more wicked, tenfold more wicked, sold a slave to my original evil and the thought, in that moment, braced and delighted me like wine. ~ Robert Louis Stevenson

441:I wrote that certain things were leaving me nauseated. I said that judges made me feel that way. Not most of them but all of them. I said that you for example, the judge I'm writing this to, made me feel nauseated. The nausea came from understanding that people produced by every conceivable advantage got to decide whether someone like Jalen lived or died and what was worse was they never fucking seemed to decide that the person should live, that a person's life, any person, was more important than whether some fat fuck at a country club thought you were hard enough on crime or whether you continue to get sufficient reelection campaign contributions you worthless retarded piece of shit. Why should you be allowed to decide anything beyond what you have for lunch you mental infant? ~ Sergio de la Pava

442:Dr Stewart Wolf took the placebo effect to the limit. He took two women who were suffering with nausea and vomiting, one of them pregnant, and told them he had a treatment which would improve their symptoms. In fact he passed a tube down into their stomachs (so that they wouldn’t taste the revolting bitterness) and administered ipecac, a drug that which should actually induce nausea and vomiting. Not only did the patients’ symptoms improve, but their gastric contractions—which ipecac should worsen—were reduced. His results suggest—albeit it in a very small sample—that a drug could be made to have the opposite effect to what you would predict from the pharmacology, simply by manipulating people’s expectations. In this case, the placebo effect outgunned even the pharmacological influences. More ~ Ben Goldacre

443:Some team! The Chief was doing so many jobs alone. I’d fix on the Chief’s raw, rope-burned palms or all the gray hairs collected in his sink, and I’d suffer this terrible side pain that Kiwi said was probably an ulcer and Ossie diagnosed as lovesickness. Or rather a nausea produced by the “black fruit” of love—a terror that sprouted out of your love for someone like rotting oranges on a tree branch. Osceola knew all about this black fruit, she said, because she’d grown it for our mother, our father, Grandpa Sawtooth, even me and Kiwi. Loving a ghost was different, she explained—that kind of love was a bare branch. I pictured this branch curving inside my sister: something leafless and complete, elephantine, like a white tusk. No rot, she was saying, no fruit. You couldn’t lose a ghost to death. ~ Karen Russell

444:Cohabitation is a big issue, and how it is dealt with at the parish level is a big concern, so the pope is sending a signal,” said John Thavis, a veteran Vatican reporter. He said that the couples chosen for the ceremony “seem to be normal people and not necessarily handpicked. It’s one more indication that the pope looks at things the way they really are; he’s a realist. “It’s a pope willing to say that if you want to be married in the church, we’ll find a way to do it. It’s the ‘who am I to judge?’ pope, who doesn’t want to turn people away and instead wants to find a way to bring people in,” Mr. Thavis said. In defending the sacrament of marriage, the pope acknowledged that it could become a challenge, that spouses could stray, or become discouraged and “daily life becomes burdensome, even nauseating. ~ Anonymous

445:I still remember—so vividly I can smell the gentle fragrance of the spring air—the afternoon when I decided, after thinking everything over, to abdicate from love as from an insoluble problem. it was in May, a May that was softly summery, with the flowers around my estate already in full bloom, their colors fading as the sun made its slow descent. Escorted by regrets and self-reproach, I walked among my few trees, I had dined early and was wandering, like a symbol, under the useless shadows and faint rustle of leaves. And suddenly I was overwhelmed by a desire to renounce completely, to withdraw once and for all, and I felt an intense nausea for having had so many desires, so many hopes, with so many outer conditions for attaining them and so much inner impossibility of really wanting to attain them. ~ Fernando Pessoa

446:Could I speak to you for a moment, madam?' said Nannie to Agnes. It was at moments of crisis like this that Mary chiefly envied her Aunt Agnes's imperturbable disposition. Most mothers feel a hideous sinking at the heart when these fatal words are pronounced, but Agnes only showed a kindly and inactive interest. In anyone else Mary might have suspected unusual powers of bluff, hiding trembling knees, a feeling of helpless nausea, flashes of light behind the eyes, storm in the brain, and a general desire to say 'Take double your present wages, but don't tell me what it is you want to speak to me about.' But Agnes, placidly confident in the perfection of her own family and the unassailable security of her own existence, was only capable of feeling a mild curiosity and barely capable of showing it. ~ Angela Thirkell

447:first. In a financial system that was rapidly generating complicated risks, AIG FP became a huge swallower of those risks. In the early days it must have seemed as if it was being paid to insure events extremely unlikely to occur, as it was. Its success bred imitators: Zurich Re FP, Swiss Re FP, Credit Suisse FP, Gen Re FP. (“Re” stands for Reinsurance.) All of these places were central to what happened in the last two decades; without them, the new risks being created would have had no place to hide and would have remained in full view of bank regulators. All of these places, when the crisis came, would be washed away by the general nausea felt in the presence of complicated financial risks, but there was a moment when their existence seemed cartographically necessary to the financial world. AIG FP was the model for them all. ~ Michael Lewis

448:She ran and didn't slow until she came to a hallway that terminated in a multipaned window of thick, old-fashioned glass. Her breath rasped in her throat, but the dizziness and nausea eased enough that she stood steadier on her feet. She heard again the gentle ringing of metal sliding against metal. Musty air rose up with the same smell of leather and dust, an acrid undertone beneath. She whipped her head toward the end of the hall. At first she didn't see anything. The light shifted and swirled, and the swordsman materialized from the shadows. Gold and red emblazoned his tunic in a chevron against a cobalt background. The sword was back in its scabbard, strapped across his back. He was tall, with broad shoulders and dark hair, and he looked like Sebastian. Timed to the wind stirring the ivy outside, he vanished through the wall. ~ Carolyn Jewel

449:Retra pressed her fingers to her thigh. The intense pain from her obedience strip had receded to a steady throb and nausea. Perhaps that was the worst it would get, now that she’d left the compound. She glanced back. No shout came. No lights followed her. The rust-mesh fence that segregated the Seal enclave from the rest of Grave rose like a grey fortress in the dark. And she’d climbed it. Pain can be dismissed. Her brother Joel had said that to her after Father had beat him one time. Retra remembered that more clearly than anything after he ran away to Ixion. It was the thing that gave her hope. She could control pain. And she could follow him. So she’d practised. Hours with her arm twisted, or something sharp pressed into her skin; practised thinking and acting, despite hurt. And now was the time. The barge would be waiting at ~ Marianne de Pierres

450:The five cells are silky-white within, and are filled with a mass of firm, cream-coloured pulp, containing about three seeds each. This pulp is the eatable part, and its consistence and flavour are indescribable. A rich custard highly flavoured with almonds gives the best general idea of it, but there are occasional wafts of flavour that call to mind cream-cheese, onion-sauce, sherry-wine, and other incongruous dishes. Then there is a rich glutinous smoothness in the pulp which nothing else possesses, but which adds to its delicacy. It is neither acid nor sweet nor juicy; yet it wants neither of these qualities, for it is in itself perfect. It produces no nausea or other bad effect, and the more you eat of it the less you feel inclined to stop. In fact, to eat Durians is a new sensation worth a voyage to the East to experience. ~ Alfred Russel Wallace

451:The 1930s brought what is known as the “medicalization” of death. The rise of the hospital removed from view all the gruesome sights, smells, and sounds of death. Whereas before a religious leader might preside over a dying person and guide the family in grief, now it was doctors who attended to a patient’s final moments. Medicine addressed life-and-death issues, not appeals to heaven. The dying process became hygienic and heavily regulated in the hospital. Medical professionals deemed unfit for public consumption what death historian Philippe Ariès called the “nauseating spectacle” of mortality. It became taboo to “come into a room that smells of urine, sweat, and gangrene, and where the sheets are soiled.” The hospital was a place where the dying could undergo the indignities of death without offending the sensibilities of the living. ~ Caitlin Doughty

452:We can’t handle absence anymore, anything is better than the blankness; the quiet of nothingness. People fight to put images of love and hate – both equally nauseating – between themselves and the blank space that surrounds us. It’s the only escape, and yet we feel the pressure of the blankness pressing in against us, forcing the violent display ever closer, forcing us to demand images brighter, more graphic until they scorch our senses badly enough that we no longer feel the void and the images become our reality. But it’s ok. Most people don’t need to fear absence anymore – we’re blinded, permanently. There’s no need to seek out the light show that protects us either; inoculation precedes the sickness now. Sedation isn’t an option, it’s a shared reality. Most people don’t see the beauty of the system, how perfect our salvation is. ~ Matthew Selwyn

453:It was the summer in America when the nausea returned, when the joking didn't stop, when the speculation and the theorizing and the hyperbole didn't stop, when the moral obligation to explain to one's children about adult life was abrogated in favor of maintaining in them every illusion about adult life, when the smallness of people was simply crushing, when some kind of demon had been unleashed in the nation and, on both sides, people wondered "Why are we so crazy?" when men and women alike, upon awakening in the morning, discovered that during the night, in a state of sleep that transported them beyond envy or loathing, they had dreamed of the brazenness of Bill Clinton. I myself dreamed of a mammoth banner, draped dadaistically like a Christo wrapping from one end of the White House to the other and bearing the legend A HUMAN BEING LIVES HERE. ~ Philip Roth

454:I’ll never forget the crippling headaches Grandpa suffered, the nausea from chemo and radiation. I watched Daddy wrestle with decision after decision, ultimately withholding IV antibiotics to treat the pneumonia that took Grandpa more quickly and far more gently. Barrons is voicing the legitimate question of anyone who’s ever agreed not to resuscitate, to cease life-sustaining measures for a loved one, to accept a Stage 4 cancer patient’s decision to refuse more chemo, or euthanize a beloved pet. Throughout the caretaker experience, your loved one’s presence is intense and exquisitely poignant and painful, then all the sudden they’re gone and you discover their absence is even more intense and exquisitely poignant and painful. You don’t know how to walk or breathe when they’re no longer there. And how could you? Your world revolved around them. ~ Karen Marie Moning

455:Win, on the other hand, seemed to have been weaned on schnapps. Liquor never really affected him much. But at this particular party, the grain alcohol–laced punch made even his steps wobble a bit. It took Win three tries to unlock their dorm room door. Myron quickly collapsed on his bed. The ceiling spun counterclockwise at a seemingly death-defying speed. He closed his eyes. His hands gripped the bed and held on in terror. His face had no color. Nausea clamped down painfully on his stomach. Myron wondered when he would vomit and prayed it would be soon. Ah, the glamour of college drinking. For a while neither of them said anything. Myron wondered if Win had fallen asleep. Or maybe Win was gone. Vanished into the night. Maybe he hadn’t held on to his spinning bed tightly enough and the centrifugal force had hurled him out the window and into the great beyond. Then ~ Harlan Coben

456:Returning to the boat we passed bridges, railroad tracks, warehouses, factories, wharves and what not. It was like following in the wake of a demented giant who had sown the earth with crazy dreams. If I could only have seen a horse or a cow, or just a cantankerous goat chewing tin cans, it would have been a tremendous relief. But there was nothing of the animal, vegetable or human kingdom in sight. It was a vast jumbled waste created by pre-human or sub-human monsters in a delirium of greed. It was something negative, some not-ness of some kind or other. It was a bad dream and towards the end I broke into a trot, what with disgust and nausea, what with the howling icy gale which was whipping everything in sight into a frozen pie crust. When I got back to the boat I was praying that by some miracle the captain would decide to alter his course and return to Piraeus. ~ Henry Miller

457:A little while later, I found myself waking, groggy and nauseated, from a deep sleep in a regular hospital room. Disoriented, I glanced around the room and finally found Marlboro Man, who was quietly parked in a comfortable chair in the corner and holding our flannel-wrapped little bundle. He was wearing faded jeans and a white T-shirt--the best he could manage the night before, when my unexpected labor had yanked us both out of bed. His muscular arms holding our baby were almost too much for me to take. Just as I sat up to take a closer look, the baby stretched out her two arms and made a series of tiny gurgling sounds. I was not in Kansas anymore. “Hey, Mama,” Marlboro Man said, smiling. I smiled back, unable to take my eyes off the sight in front of me. Those Hallmark commercials weren’t kidding. A man holding a newborn baby was a beautiful thing to behold. ~ Ree Drummond

458:The first two days without a phone, my insides are jumpy and nauseated, a true withdrawal. My veins ache for information from the Internet, distractions from thought. I’m lonely. My neck, lungs, blood hurt like I’m getting a cold. The world happens without me because I’m exiled with no Wi-Fi. I wonder if my shoes have arrived yet. Maybe Lord is trying to reach me with news of his divorce. I have a parade of grotesque urges. I want to push little buttons quickly. I want information immediately. I want to post pictures of Ruth and me smiling into the sun. I want people to like me, like me, like me. I want to buy things without trying them on. I want to look at photos of drunk kids I knew back in high school. And I want it all in my hand. But my cyborg parts have been ripped out. What’s the temperature? I don’t know. What’s the capital of Hawaii? I don’t know anything. I ~ Samantha Hunt

459:The most powerful desires of life have been hitherto the most slandered, so that a curse weighs on life. For we comprehend that these selfsame instincts are inseparable from life, and one therefore turns against life. Whereas the mass, which has no feeling at all for this conflict, flourishes, while the conflicted type miscarries and, as a product of degeneration, invites antipathy–that the mediocre, on the other hand, when they pose as the goal and meaning of existence, arouse nausea and indignation. And the individual, faced with this tremendous machinery, loses courage and submits. The herd, the mass, "society", unlearns modesty and blows up its needs into cosmic and metaphysical values. In this way the whole of existence is vulgarised; and in so far as the mass is dominant it bullies the exceptions, so that they lose faith in themselves and become nihilists. ~ Friedrich Nietzsche

460:At The Justice Department November 15, 1969 Brown gas-fog, white beneath the street lamps. Cut off on three sides, all space filled with our bodies. Bodies that stumble in brown airlessness, whitened in light, a mildew glare, that stumble hand in hand, blinded, retching. Wanting it, wanting to be here, the body believing it's dying in its nausea, my head clear in its despair, a kind of joy, knowing this is by no means death, is trivial, an incident, a fragile instant. Wanting it, wanting with all my hunger this anguish, this knowing in the body the grim odds we're up against, wanting it real. Up that bank where gas curled in the ivy, dragging each other up, strangers, brothers and sisters. Nothing will do but to taste the bitter taste. No life other, apart from. ~ Denise Levertov

461:Just inside the front door, he collapsed, sliding down the wall to sit with his knees drawn up to his chest. She hates me now. Utterly and without a doubt. Hates me. Well good—that was what he’d wanted. Wasn’t it? Self loathing rolled through him in waves like nausea until he knew he was going to be sick. Heaving himself to his feet, he just made it to the bathroom in time to void the contents of his stomach. When he was empty, he splashed water from the sink in his face and rubbed his cheeks and mouth vigorously with a towel. Looking up into the viewer, he saw emptiness—a male with nothing left to lose. Nothing left because he’d just thrown away the most precious thing in his life. Thrown it away like a piece of garbage to lie rotting and festering in a dump. “I killed it,” he said aloud, addressing the hated face in the mirror. “Anything she felt for me is dead now.” But ~ Evangeline Anderson

462:Same first name as a president and an obscure comic book character. Half-Jewish. Excellent grammar. Easily nauseated. Likes Reese's and Oreos (i.e. not an idiot). Divorced parents. Big brother to a fetus. Dad lives in Savannah. Dad's an English teacher. Mom's an epidemiologist. The problem is, I'm beginning to realize I hardly know anything about anyone. I mean I generally know who's a virgin. But I don't have a clue whether most people's parents are divorced, or what their parents do for a living. I mean, Nick's parents are doctors. But I don't know what Leah's mom does, and I don't even know what the deal is with her dad, because Leah never talks about him. I have no idea why Abby's dad and brother still live in DC. And these are my best friends. I've always thought of myself as nosy, but I guess I'm just nosy about stupid stuff. It's actually really terrible, now that I think about it. ~ Becky Albertalli

463:I love brief habits and consider them an inestimable means for getting to know many things…My nature is designed entirely for brief habits…I always believe that here is something that will give me lasting satisfaction—brief habits, too, have this faith of passion, this faith in eternity—and that I am to be envied for having found and recognized it…But one day its time is up; the good thing parts from me, not as something that has come to nauseate me but peacefully and sated with me as I am with it—as if we had reason to be grateful to each other as we shook hands to say farewell. Even then something new is waiting at the door, along with my faith—this indestructible fool and sage!—that this new discovery will be just right, and that this will be the last time. That is what happens to me with dishes, ideas, human beings, cities, poems, music, doctrines, ways of arranging the day, and life styles. ~ Friedrich Nietzsche

464:Science" as a prejudice.—It follows from the laws of order of rankle that scholars, insofar as they belong to the spiritual middle class, can never catch sight of the really great problems and question marks; moreover, their courage and their eyes simply do not reach that far—and above all, their needs which led them to become scholars in the first place, their inmost assumptions and desires that things might be such and such, their fears and hopes all come to rest and are satisfied too soon. Take, for example, that pedantic Englishman, Herbert Spencer. What makes him "enthuse" in his way and then leads him to draw a line of hope, a horizon of desirability—that eventual reconciliation of "egoism and altruism" about which he raves—almost nauseates the likes of us; a human race that adopted such Spencerian perspectives as its ultimate perspectives would seem to us worthy of contempt, of annihilation! ~ Friedrich Nietzsche

465:All I cared about then was catching a glimpse of Chairman Mao. I turned my eyes quickly away from Liu to the front of the motorcade. I spotted Mao's stalwart back, his right arm steadily waving. In an instant, he had disappeared. My heart sank. Was that all I would see of Chairman Mao? Only a fleeting glimpse of his back? The sun seemed suddenly to have turned gray. All around me the Red Guards were making a huge din. The girl standing next to me had just pierced the index finger of her right hand and was squeezing blood out of it to write something on a neatly folded handkerchief. I knew exactly the words she was going to use. It had been done many times by other Red Guards and had been publicized ad nauseam: "I am the happiest person in the world today. I have seen our Great Leader Chairman Mao!" Watching her, my despair grew. Life seemed pointless. A thought flickered into my mind: perhaps I should commit suicide? ~ Jung Chang

466:It is equally silly of these Christians to suppose that when their god applies the fire (like a common cook!) all the rest of mankind will be thoroughly roasted, and that they alone will escape unscorched — not just those alive at the time, mind you, but they say those long since dead will rise up from the earth possessing the same bodies as they did before. I ask you: Is this not the hope of worms? For what sort of human soul is it that has any use for a rotted corpse of a body? The very fact that some Jews and even some Christians reject this teaching about rising corpses shows just how repulsive it is; it is nothing less than nauseating and impossible. I mean, what sort of body is it that could return to its original nature or become the same as it was before it rotted away? And of course they have no reply for this one, and as in most cases where there is no reply they take cover by saying 'Nothing is impossible with God.'[ ~ Tim Freke

467:you may not have noticed, but i'm not what you'd call conventionally beautiful. in fact, you might say that i'm the opposite of that. say, you know - to vocalize, sometimes ad nauseam? do you think that there's any minute in a day when i'm not aware of how big i am? do you think there's a single minute that goes by when i'm not thinking about how other people see me? even though i have no control whatsoever over that? don't get me wrong - i love my body. but i'm not so much of an idiot to think that everybody else loves it. what really gets to me - what really bothers me - is that it's all people see. ever since i was a not-so-little kid. hey, tiny, want to play football? hey, tiny, how many burgers did you eat today? hey, tiny, do you ever lose your dick down there? hey, tiny, you're going to join the basketball team whether you like it or not. just don't try to look at us in the locker room! does that sound easy to you will? ~ David Levithan

468:I was suffering with profound personality change, and if I had to go out onto the highway and stick out my thumb and secure a ride to a Waffle House in order to consume grits in Tuscaloosa, Alabama, I would go to a Waffle House, leaving behind the unwanted back hair and the expanding belt lines and the godforsaken cheese grits to make of myself a person of the road, a person of the highway, a person of indeterminate location. You could get some grits at a Waffle House, and it wouldn’t cost you an arm and leg, because it was presumed at Waffle House that you were on your last nickel, that you had squandered opportunities, that all was illusion. A man still has to eat, however, and coarsely ground cornmeal was best. It needed nothing other than what it was, and if an inn with a bunch of nauseating pastels and some faux-Mexican decor could not provide you with true and authentic grits, then you might go elsewhere, as you did, eventually. ★ ~ Rick Moody

469:Let's start with the basics." He pulled a worn Helios-Ra guidebook of the top of the pile of books next to his laptop. "You got one of these in your orientation packet, right?" "I already had a copy," I replied. I'd picked Kieran's pocket this summer for it, to be precise. I had my own profile in the cream-colored pages. Tyson flushed. "Oh. Right. I forgot you're in it." "I'm famous," I agreed blandly. "Just this morning someone locked me in a bathroom stall." He flushed even redder. "Are you blushing?" He cleared his throat. "No." I grinned. "You are adorable." "Uh ..." "Relax, I'm dating the undead, remember." "Stop teasing poor Tyson," Jenna said from behind me. I tilted my head to look up at her. "But it's fun." Jenna hiked her hip on the table and swung her sneaker-clad foot. "You're going to give him a coronary." We both turned to grin at him, waiting for his retort. He just looked slightly nauseated. ~ Alyxandra Harvey

470:Up to the age of 30 or beyond it, poetry of many kinds … gave me great pleasure, and even as a schoolboy I took intense delight in Shakespeare.… Formerly pictures gave me considerable, and music very great, delight. But now for many years I cannot endure to read a line of poetry: I have tried to read Shakespeare, and found it so intolerably dull that it nauseated me. I have also almost lost any taste for pictures or music.… I retain some taste for fine scenery, but it does not cause me the exquisite delight which it formerly did.… My mind seems to have become a kind of machine for grinding general laws out of large collections of facts, but why this should have caused the atrophy of that part of the brain alone, on which the higher tastes depend, I cannot conceive.… The loss of these tastes is a loss of happiness, and may possibly be injurious to the intellect, and more probably to the moral character, by enfeebling the emotional part of our nature.13 ~ John Piper

471:There is no escape. You can't be a vagabond and an artist and still be a solid citizen, a wholesome, upstanding man. You want to get drunk, so you have to accept the hangover. You say yes to the sunlight and pure fantasies, so you have to say yes to the filth and the nausea. Everything is within you, gold and mud, happiness and pain, the laughter of childhood and the apprehension of death. Say yes to everything, shirk nothing. Don't try to lie to yourself. You are not a solid citizen. You are not a Greek. You are not harmonious, or the master of yourself. You are a bird in the storm. Let it storm! Let it drive you! How much have you lied! A thousand times, even in your poems and books, you have played the harmonious man, the wise man, the happy, the enlightened man. In the same way, men attacking in war have played heroes, while their bowels twitched. My God, what a poor ape, what a fencer in the mirror man is- particularly the artist- particularly myself! ~ Hermann Hesse

472:It was the kind of nightmare where you realize that the missing weight of things is sitting right there on your chest, like some kind of succubus, but before you can shove it off, it gets sucked away through a mysterious process into the unknowable realm of your cells, and from there on you are defenseless, your cells already weigh a ton, while your whole body is so light it almost floats, and that’s how it goes until you can only wonder how the cells could be so unbearably heavy when the body is so nauseatingly light, and in this nauseating lightheadedness things gradually recede from you just as you too begin to gradually recede from them, in a word it is like when a person lugging a load becomes exhausted by all this lugging and suddenly looking down at his hands sees that there is nothing in them, there never was, that he had been lugging nothing—that is, when you suddenly realize that something is no longer in your possession, just as nothing ever had been. ~ L szl Krasznahorkai

473:Non c’era più nulla che poteva fermare Peter dall’affondare lo sperone nella gola d’Uncino, ma il suo corpo rifiutava ancora di muoversi. Non avrebbe avuto problemi a farlo nel mezzo d’una battaglia, ma non adesso, che la scelta era soltanto sua. Mentre Uncino lo guardava, invitandolo a colpirlo, Peter non poté fare a meno d’immaginare cosa sarebbe successo se l’avesse veramente ucciso. Il sangue, il silenzio, le ombre che lo avrebbero circondato in tutta la sua solitudine. Immaginò gli occhi blu d’Uncino senza vita e ripensò allo sguardo vuoto e spento di Soffietto. Un’ondata di nausea gli invase il corpo. Non voleva uccidere più nessuno. Peggio ancora, non voleva vedere Uncino morto. Mentre il tempo passava, cercò di convincersi che quella era la cosa giusta da fare, ma la sola idea lo sconvolgeva con una sensazione sempre crescente d’orrore. Pensò a Uncino scomparso, com’era successo a Campanellino, cancellato dal mondo, introvabile. Che mondo vuoto sarebbe stato ~ Austin Chant

474:You would think that the first time you cut up a dead person, you’d feel a bit funny about it. Strangely, though, everything feels normal. The bright lights, stainless steel tables, and bow-tied professors lend an air of propriety. Even so, that first cut, running from the nape of the neck down to the small of the back, is unforgettable. The scalpel is so sharp it doesn’t so much cut the skin as unzip it, revealing the hidden and forbidden sinew beneath, and despite your preparation, you are caught unawares, ashamed and excited. Cadaver dissection is a medical rite of passage and a trespass on the sacrosanct, engendering a legion of feelings: from revulsion, exhilaration, nausea, frustration, and awe to, as time passes, the mere tedium of academic exercise. Everything teeters between pathos and bathos: here you are, violating society’s most fundamental taboos, and yet formaldehyde is a powerful appetite stimulant, so you also crave a burrito. ~ Paul Kalanithi

475:Now that death was the punishment for being caught in possession of a gun, 'cordon and search' operations restarted in earnest when the British army surged into northern Palestine in May 1938. While one force surrounded a village, another would go in to hunt for suspects and their weapons. This task was 'thoroughly nauseating, both physically and mentally', wrote one soldier, during a search in which five Arabs were killed... British soldiers arrested those suspected of assisting the insurgents, and dynamited or bulldozed their homes. Collective punishments were imposed on villages where individual culprits could not be singled out. Arthur Lane went to one village suspected of assisting the rebellion with another soldier to demand a fine from the mukhtar. After the headman slammed his front door in Lane's face, and then his irate wife emerged brandishing a wooden spoon to chase Lane's colleague away, Lane tersely remembered what happened what happened next: 'We burned her house down. ~ James Barr

476:Melody began to mumble incomprehensibly under her breath as she worked frantically on securing her most important papers into bankers boxes. Her father stomped into her room, eating a banana. Melody looked up at him with a sweaty and nauseated look on her face. “What are you tramping around so heavily about?” she asked him. Bernie finished the last of the banana, and then held the peel in his hand as though it were a washcloth he had just found on the floor of a gym locker room. Melody pointed to her trashcan with her eyes. “I make an insane amount of noise when I approach you, because you once yelled at me claiming that I was 'sneaking up on you',” Bernie replied, using finger quotes on the last phrase. “That kind of treatment stays with a guy.” Melody shook her head. Her father knew how much she hated finger quotes. Why he insisted on using them was beyond her. “I was five at the time”, she said. “Ah,” Bernie said, with a knowing grin on his face. “The angry period. ~ B M B Johnson

477:Melody began to mumble incomprehensibly under her breath as she worked frantically on securing her most important papers into bankers boxes. Her father stomped into her room, eating a banana. Melody looked up at him with a sweaty and nauseated look on her face. “What are you tramping around so heavily about?” she asked him. Bernie finished the last of the banana, and then held the peel in his hand as though it were a washcloth he had just found on the floor of a gym locker room. Melody pointed to her trashcan with her eyes. “I make an insane amount of noise when I approach you, because you once yelled at me claiming that I was 'sneaking up on you',” Bernie replied, using finger quotes on the last phrase. “That kind of treatment stays with a guy.” Melody shook her head. Her father knew how much she hated finger quotes. Why he insisted on using them was beyond her. “I was five at the time”, she said. “Ah,” Bernie said, with a knowing grin on his face. “The angry period. ~ B M B Johnson

478:I was sentimental about many things: a woman’s shoes under the bed; one hairpin left behind on the dresser; the way they said, 'I’m going to pee.' hair ribbons; walking down the boulevard with them at 1:30 in the afternoon, just two people walking together; the long nights of drinking and smoking; talking; the arguments; thinking of suicide; eating together and feeling good; the jokes; the laughter out of nowhere; feeling miracles in the air; being in a parked car together; comparing past loves at 3am; being told you snore; hearing her snore; mothers, daughters, sons, cats, dogs; sometimes death and sometimes divorce; but always carring on, always seeing it through; reading a newspaper alone in a sandwich joint and feeling nausea because she’s now married to a dentist with an I.Q. of 95; racetracks, parks, park picnics; even jails; her dull friends; your dull friends; your drinking, her dancing; your flirting, her flirting; her pills, your fucking on the side and her doing the same; sleeping together ~ Charles Bukowski

479:Along with the sight-clouding dizziness, nausea makes me balk at that milk cream, separates me from the mother and the father who proffer it. "I" want none of that element, sign of their desire; "I" do not want to listen, "I" do not assimilate it. "I" expel it. But since the food is not an "other" for "me," who am only in their desire, I expel myself, I spit myself out, I abject myself with the same motion through which "I" claim to establish myself. That detail, perhaps an insignificant one, but one that they ferret out, emphasize, evaluate, that trifle turns me inside out, guts sprawling; it is thus that they see the "I" am in the process of becoming an other at the expense of my own death, During that course I'm which "I" become, I give birth to myself amid the violence of sobs, of vomit. Mute protest of the symptom, shattering the violence of a convulsion that, to be sure, is inscribed in a symbolic system, but in which, without either wanting or being able to become integrated in order to answer to it, it abreacts. It abjects ~ Julia Kristeva

480:With the nausea gone, evenings with Marlboro Man slowly began resembling the way they’d been before. We watched movies on the couch together--his head on one end, my head on the other, our legs in a tangled mess of coziness. He’d play with my toes. I’d rub his calves, which were rock hard and tough from day after day on horseback. After the purgatory of the previous weeks, things were officially delicious again. Marlboro Man was delicious again. After a love-drenched honeymoon in Australia, we’d returned home to a bitter reality that had put a screeching halt to what should have been the most romantic days of our lives together. Since my nausea had been so bad that the mere smell of skin made me sick, it had been difficult for me to lie in bed with him some nights--let alone entertain any other thoughts. It had been a cold, frigid autumn in more ways than one. If Marlboro Man hadn’t been so happy about his child developing in my body, I imagined he might have taken me back for a refund. I was so glad that this time had finally passed. ~ Ree Drummond

481:I'm not sure what form I expected the threat to take; a police car actually stopping outside, a powerfully built black man darting up the drive? I had several dreams of siege, in which the house became a frail slatted box, shadowy and exquisite within, the walls all cracked and bleached louvres which fell to powder as one brushed against them. In one dream Arthur and I were there, and others, old school friends, a gaggle of black kids from the Shaft, my grandfather tearful and hopeless. We knew we had no chance of surviving the violence that surrounded us, closing in fast, and I was gripped by a nauseating terror. I woke up in the certain knowledge that I was about to die: the bedsprings were ticking from the sprinting vehemence of my heartbeat. I didn't dare go back to sleep and after a while sat up and read, while Arthur slept deeply beside me. It took days to lose the mood of the dream, and its power to prickle my scalp. The neighbourhood seemed eerily impregnated with it, and its passing made possible a new confidence, as if a sentence had been lifted. ~ Alan Hollinghurst

482:The essential thing is contingency. I mean that one cannot define existence as necessity. To exist is simply to be there; those who exist let themselves be encountered, but you can never deduce anything from them. I believe there are people who have understood this. Only they tried to overcome this contingency by inventing a necessary, causal being. But no necessary being can explain existence: contingency is not a delusion, a probability which can be dissipated; it is the absolute, consequently, the perfect free gift. All is free, this park, this city and myself. When you realize that, it turns your heart upside down and everything begins to float, as the other evening at the "Railwaymen's Rendezvous": here is Nausea; here there is what those bastards—the ones on the Coteau Vert and others—try to hide from themselves with their idea of their rights. But what a poor lie: no one has any rights; they are entirely free, like other men, they cannot succeed in not feeling superfluous. And in themselves, secretly, they are superfluous, that is to say, amorphous, vague, and sad. ~ Jean Paul Sartre

483:When I said that to Mother Sugar she replied with the small nod of satisfaction people use for these resounding truths, that the artist writes out of an incapacity to live. I remember the nausea I felt when she said it; I feel the reluctance of disgust now when I write it: it is because this business about art and the artist has become so debased, the property of every sloppy-minded amateur that any person with a real connection with the arts wants to run a hundred miles at the sight of the small satisfied nod, the complacent smile. And besides, when a truth has been explored so thoroughly—this one has been the subject matter of art for this century, when it has become such a monster of a cliché, one begins to wonder, is it so finally true? And one begins to think of the phrases “incapacity to live,” “the artist,” etc., letting them echo and thin in one’s mind, fighting the sense of disgust and the staleness, as I tried to fight it that day sitting before Mother Sugar. But extraordinary how this old stuff issued so fresh and magisterial from the lips of psychoanalysis. Mother ~ Doris Lessing

484:Dr. Joe Allen had autopsied 3,712 murder victims during his long career as the Dade County coroner, so he had seen more indescribable carnage than perhaps any other human being in the whole United States. Throughout the years Joe Allen had charted South Florida's progress by what lay dead on his steel tables, and he was long past the point of ever being shocked or nauseated. He performed meticulous surgery, kept precise files, and compiled priceless morbidity data which earned him a national reputation. For example, it was Dr. Allen who had determined that Greater Miami had more mutilation-homicides per capita than any other American city, a fact he attributed to the terrific climate. In warm weather, Allen noted, there were no outdoor elements to deter a lunatic from spending six, seven, eight hours hacking away on a victim; try that in Buffalo, and you’d freeze your ass off. After Dr. Allen had presented his findings to a big pathologists' convention, several other Sun Belt coroners had conducted their own studies and confirmed what became known as the Allen Mutilation Theorem. ~ Carl Hiaasen

485:My poor brother,” Cristian repeated. “How he bragged about you when our father arranged your engagement. Such betrayal. It will destroy him. You really are a fallen woman, just like the rest, aren’t you?” His body tensed up. The dagger’s tip broke through Cass’s skin. A rivulet of blood began to trickle down her neck. The pain was slight, like a pinch or a bee sting, but Cass gasped, half expecting her breath to bubble out through the tiny cut. “I didn’t betray him,” Cass squeezed out. She pressed herself back against the stone wall, trying hard not to swallow, not to breathe too hard. She felt a surge of nausea. “Didn’t you?” Cristian withdrew his dagger momentarily and Cass couldn’t stop herself from collapsing to the ground. Her legs simply wouldn’t hold her. “I seem to recall a second letter tucked inside your journal,” he continued. “A rather intimate confessional.” Cass knew it was insane to lament the loss of Falco’s note while a madman was brandishing a dagger in front of her. Still, her heart bled a little at the thought of losing the last piece of him she’d ever have. ~ Fiona Paul

486:As he was raising his hand to his lips, it occurred to him that this was the first time in all his years that he had eaten something that was prepared by hands of unknown caste. Perhaps it was this thought, or perhaps it was just the smell of the food--it happened, at any rate, that he was assailed by a nausea so powerful that he could not bring his fingers to his mouth. The intensity of his body's resistance amazed him: for the fact was that he did not believe in caste, or at least he had said, many, many times, to his friends and anyone else who would listen. If, in answer, they accused him of having become too tash, overly Westernized, his retort was always to say, no, his allegiance was to the Buddha, the Mahavira, Shri Chaitanya, Kabir and many others such--all of whom had battled against the boundaries of caste with as much determinations as any European revolutionary. Neel had always taken pride in laying claim to this lineage of egalitarianism, all the more so since it was his prerogative to see on a Raja's guddee: but why, then, had he never before eaten anything prepared by an unknown hand? ~ Amitav Ghosh

487:My courtship with Marlboro Man, filled with fizzy romance, hadn’t prepared me for any of this; not the mice I heard scratching in the wall next to my bed, not the flat tires I got from driving my car up and down the jagged gravel roads. Before I got married, I didn’t know how to use a jack or a crowbar…and I didn’t want to have to learn now. I didn’t want to know that the smell in the laundry room was a dead rodent. I’d never smelled a dead rodent in my life: why, when I was supposed to be a young, euphoric newlywed, was I being forced to smell one now? During the day, I was cranky. At night, I was a mess. I hadn’t slept through the night once since we returned from our honeymoon. Besides the nausea, whose second evil wave typically hit right at bedtime, I was downright spooked. As I lay next to Marlboro Man, who slept like a baby every night, I thought of monsters and serial killers: Freddy Krueger and Michael Myers, Ted Bundy and Charles Manson. In the utter silence of the country, every tiny sound was amplified; I was certain if I let myself go to sleep, the murderer outside our window would get me. ~ Ree Drummond

488:Panic always comes to me in the same way. First, I get a knot in the pit of my stomach that turns to nausea, then a fluttery breathlessness that no amount of deep breathing can cure. But what causes my fear is different every day, I never know what will set me off. It could be a kiss from my husband, or the lingering look of sadness in his eyes when he draws back. Sometimes I know he's already grieving for me, missing me even while I'm still here. Worse yet is Marah's quiet acceptance of everything I say. I would give anything for another of our old knock-down drag-out fights. That's one of the first things I'd say to you now, Marah: Those fights were real life. You were struggling to break free of being my daughter but unsure of how to be yourself, while I was afraid to let you go. It's the circle of love. I only wish I'd recognized it then. Your grandmother told me I'd know you were sorry for those years before you did, and she was right. I know you regret some of the things you said to me, as I regret my own words. None of that matters, though. I want you to know that. I love you and I know you love me. ~ Kristin Hannah

489:But Willi had withdrawn himself. For one thing, he did not approve of such bohemianism as collective bedroom breakfasts. “If we were married,” he had complained, “it might be all right.” I laughed at him, and he said: “Yes. Laugh. But there’s sense in the old rules. They kept people out of trouble.” He was annoyed because I laughed, and said that a woman in my position needed extra dignity of behaviour. “What position?”—I was suddenly very angry, because of the trapped feeling women get at such moments. “Yes, Anna, but things are different for men and for women. They always have been and they very likely always will be.” “Always have been?”—inviting him to remember his history. “For as long as it matters.” “Matters to you—not to me.” But we had had this quarrel before; we knew all the phrases either was likely to use—the weakness of women, the property sense of men, women in antiquity, etc., etc., etc., ad nauseam. We knew it was a clash of temperament so profound that no words could make any difference to either of us—the truth was that we shocked each other in our deepest feelings and instincts all the time. So ~ Doris Lessing

490:I pulled up at home and saw Marlboro Man’s truck next to the house. When I walked in the door of our little white house, he was there, sitting on the bench, taking off his boots. “Hey,” he said, leaning back against the wall. “How’re you doing?” “Better,” I replied. “I had a Frosty.” He pulled off his left boot. “What’d you find out?” “Well,” I started. My lip began to quiver. Marlboro Man stood up. “What’s wrong?” he said. “I’m p…” My lip quivered even more, making it difficult to speak. “I’m pregnant!” I cried. The tears started rolling. “What?” he exclaimed, moving toward me. “Really?” All I could do was nod. The lump in my throat was too big for me to talk. “Oh, wow.” He moved in, hugging me close. I guess he hadn’t expected it either. I just stood there and cried silently. For our past…for our future. For my nausea and my fatigue. For receiving a diagnosis. As for Marlboro Man, he just stood there and held me as he always had when I’d broken into unanticipated crying attacks, all the while trying his best not to explode with excitement over the fact that his baby was growing in my belly. ~ Ree Drummond

491:C’erano parecchie cose che mi facevano diventare sentimentale: le scarpe di una donna sotto il letto; una forcina dimenticata sul tavolo da toilette; quel loro modo di dire: <>; i nastri per capelli; camminare lungo il boulevard all’1.30 di pomeriggio, due persone, un uomo e una donna, insieme; le lunghe notti passate a bere e a fumare, a parlare; le liti; il pensiero del suicidio; mangiare insieme e star bene; le battute, le risate senza senso; sentire la magia nell’aria, star chiusi insieme in una macchina parcheggiata; parlare dei propri amori finiti alle 3 di notte; sentirsi dire che si russa, sentirla russare; madri, figlie, figli, gatti, cani; a volte la morte e a volte il divorzio, me sempre andare fino in fondo; leggere il giornale da solo in una tavola calda e avere la nausea perché lei adesso è la moglie di un dentista con un quoziente di intelligenza di 95; gli ippodromi, i parchi, i picnic al parco; perfino le galere; i suoi amici noiosi, i tuoi amici noiosi; il tuo bere, il suo ballare; il suo flirtare, il tuo flirtare; le sue pillole, le tue scopate clandestine, le sue scopate clandestine; dormire insieme… ~ Charles Bukowski

492:Hey…,” I said as we climbed into bed one rainy night. “What if we just put the house on hold for a while?” I reached over to my bedside table, grabbed the lemon half, and took a big sniff. Lemon halves were my new narcotic. Marlboro Man was quiet. He worked his leg under mine and locked it into what had become its official position. It was warm. “I think maybe we should get to a stopping point,” I said. “And just put it on hold for a while.” “I’ve thought about it,” he answered quietly. He rubbed his leg slowly up and down mine. Feeling better, I set the lemon back on the table and reached my arm toward him, rolling over and draping my other leg over his waist and resting my head on his chest. “Well, I was thinking it might be easier for me not to worry about it with my parents and the baby and everything else.” Maybe it would be more effective, I thought, if I turned the focus on me. “Well, that makes sense,” he said. “But let’s talk about it tomorrow.” He wrapped his other arm around my waist, and within seconds we were in a totally different world, where parents and drywall--and crippling nausea--were no longer welcome. ~ Ree Drummond

493:We also talk about our evolving relationships with the various control centers—Houston, Moscow, Europe, Japan—and how much the mutual adoration society, as I call it, has gotten out of control. It seems that no one can do anything, either in space or on the ground, without receiving a short speech of appreciation: “Thank you for all your hard work and your time on this, awesome job, we appreciate it.” Then the speech has to be repeated back: “No, thank you, you guys have been just awesome, we appreciate all your hard work,” ad nauseam. It all comes from a well-meaning place, but I think it’s a waste of time. I’ve often had the experience of finishing up some task and then moving on to the next thing, when a “thank you” speech comes back at me. This requires that I stop what I’m doing to float back to the mic, acknowledge those thanks, and return them in roughly equal proportions—multiple times a day. If you consider the cost of constructing and maintaining the space station, the mutual adoration society probably costs taxpayers millions of dollars a year. I’m already thinking about putting a stop to it when Terry, Samantha, and Anton leave. ~ Scott Kelly

494:I had no sister, but I felt as if she were one." "A sister? You think of a woman that gorgeous as a sister, but you fell in love with me?" "You are more beautiful than Asha. I see this inside of you as well as outside." Mari shook her head. "Have I told you that you sound totally crazy sometimes? You expect me to believe that she never lit any fires in you, and I did?" "Yes," Alain replied, his tone faintly bewildered as he looked at her. "Asha never changed the way I saw things, as you have." That reminded her of something. "What did you tell her about me? That I define your world or something? I couldn't believe you said that." Alain nodded. "You define the world I see. Yes. I needed to explain what you mean to me in terms another Mage would understand." Mari could feel her lips quivering but tried to fight of laughter. "Alain, I 'define the world' for you? That's too much." "Too much?" "It's so sweet, it's nauseating." Alain pondered her words. "What is wrong with that statement? I see the false world through my own illusions. You are now my reference for those illusions. Why should that make you feel ill? You define the world I see. ~ Jack Campbell

495:But depression wasn’t the word. This was a plunge encompassing sorrow and revulsion far beyond the personal: a sick, drenching nausea at all humanity and human endeavor from the dawn of time. The writhing loathsomeness of the biological order. Old age, sickness, death. No escape for anyone. Even the beautiful ones were like soft fruit about to spoil. And yet somehow people still kept fucking and breeding and popping out new fodder for the grave, producing more and more new beings to suffer like this was some kind of redemptive, or good, or even somehow morally admirable thing: dragging more innocent creatures into the lose-lose game. Squirming babies and plodding, complacent, hormone-drugged moms. Oh, isn’t he cute? Awww. Kids shouting and skidding in the playground with no idea what future Hells awaited them: boring jobs and ruinous mortgages and bad marriages and hair loss and hip replacements and lonely cups of coffee in an empty house and a colostomy bag at the hospital. Most people seemed satisfied with the thin decorative glaze and the artful stage lighting that, sometimes, made the bedrock atrocity of the human predicament look somewhat more mysterious or less abhorrent. ~ Donna Tartt

496:Friendship is a crucible of positive and negative feelings that are in a permanent state of ebullition. There’s an expression: with friends God is watching me, with enemies I watch myself. In the end, an enemy is the fruit of an oversimplification of human complexity: the inimical relationship is always clear, I know that I have to protect myself, I have to attack. On the other hand, God only knows what goes on in the mind of a friend. Absolute trust and strong affections harbor rancor, trickery, and betrayal. Perhaps that’s why, over time, male friendship has developed a rigorous code of conduct. The pious respect for its internal laws and the serious consequences that come from violating them have a long tradition in fiction. Our friendships, on the other hand, are a terra incognita, chiefly to ourselves, a land without fixed rules. Anything and everything can happen to you, nothing is certain. Its exploration in fiction advances arduously, it is a gamble, a strenuous undertaking. And at every step there is above all the risk that a story’s honesty will be clouded by good intentions, hypocritical calculations, or ideologies that exalt sisterhood in ways that are often nauseating. ~ Elena Ferrante

497:The man’s arm finally snapped at the elbow and the dagger dropped, and now Solomon Saunders held the dagger, and it was the worst way in the world to kill or be killed, and he felt his stomach erupting and scalding lava spilling over and eating up his insides as he raised his arm and hesitated, and the other soldier grabbed at him, and then Solly came down with a vengeance, and he felt the steel tear ruthlessly into human flesh like it was a chicken, and back and down, and he didn’t hate this man beneath him. “I don’t hate you, goddamn your hari-kari soul!” And down and back, down and back, and hot tears flooding Solly’s cheeks and nausea in his nasty throat and down and back, the man’s chest was a dark bloody geyser gushing blood, his pleading eyes his desperate eyes. “I don’t hate you, Tojo, damn you. I don’t hate you! I don’t even know you—damn you!” The boyish soldier gave up the ghost just as Solly’s steam gave out and he fell forward on top of this very very dead young stranger from the islands of Japan, and all was peace and all was quiet, and brotherhood and all that crap, even as the battle raged around the lucky living bastards who were dying on the strip for freedom. ~ John Oliver Killens

498:On Editors: "... The chief qualification of ninety-nine per cent of all editors is failure. They have failed as writers. Don't think they prefer the drudgery of the desk and the slavery to their circulation and to the business manager to the joy of writing. They have tried to write, and they have failed. And right there is the cursed paradox of it. Every portal to success in literature is guarded by those watch-dogs, the failures of literature. The editors, the sub-editors, associate editors, most of them, and the manuscript readers for the magazines and book-publishers, most of them, nearly all of them, are men who wanted to write and failed. And yet they, of all creatures under the sun the most unfit, are the very creatures who decide what shall and what shall not find its way into print–they, who have proved themselves not original, who have demonstrated that they lack the divine fire, sit in judgment upon originality and genius. And after them comes the reviewers, just so many more failures. Don't tell me that they have not dreamed the dream and attempted to write poetry and fiction; for they have, and they have failed. Why, the average review is more nauseating than cod-liver oil.... ~ Jack London

499:By the time I reached the coffee-shop door, however, my self-confidence had collapsed. Panic had taken its place. I believed that I was the ugliest, dirtiest little old bum in Manhattan. If I went into the coffee shop everybody would be nauseated. They would throw me out and tell me to go to the Bowery, where I belonged. But I somehow found the courage to go in anyway - and imagine my surprise! It was a though I had died and gone to heaven! A waitress said to me, "Honeybunch, you sit right own, and I'll bring you your coffee right away." I hadn't said anything to her. So I did sit down, and everywhere I looked I saw customers of every description being received with love. To the waitress everybody was "honeybunch" and "darling" and "dear". It was like an emergency ward after a great catastrophe. It did not matter what race or class the victims belonged to. They were all given the same miracle drug, which was coffee. The catastrophe in this case, of course, was that the sun had come up again. I had the feeling that if Frankenstein's monster crashed into the coffee shop through a brick wall, all anybody would say to him was, "You sit down here, Lambchop, and I'll bring your coffee right away. ~ Kurt Vonnegut

500:held out to me a closed fist that seemed three-quarters precious stones in their clawlike settings. In a movement that spoke of great effort, she turned her hand and opened it, as though she had some surprise gift concealed and was about to offer it to me. But there was no gift. The surprise was the hand itself. The flesh of her palm was like no flesh I had seen before. Its whitened ridges and purple furrows bore no relation to the pink mound at the base of my fingers, the pale valley of my palm. Melted by fire, her flesh had cooled into an entirely unrecognizable landscape, like a scene left permanently altered by the passage of a flow of lava. Her fingers did not lie open but were drawn into a claw by the shrunken tightness of the scar tissue. In the heart of her palm, scar within a scar, burn inside burn, was a grotesque mark. It was set very deep in her clutch, so deep that with a sudden nausea I wondered what had happened to the bone that should be there. It made sense of the odd set of the hand at the wrist, the way it seemed to weigh upon her arm as though it had no life of its own. The mark was a circle embedded in her palm, and extending from it, in the direction of the thumb, a short line. ~ Diane Setterfield

--- IN CHAPTERS (in Dictionaries, in Quotes, in Chapters)

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   25 Integral Yoga
   20 Poetry
   19 Philosophy
   12 Fiction
   5 Occultism
   2 Psychology
   2 Christianity
   1 Integral Theory


   18 Friedrich Nietzsche
   13 Sri Aurobindo
   12 H P Lovecraft
   10 The Mother
   9 Satprem
   4 Aleister Crowley
   2 Jorge Luis Borges


   18 Thus Spoke Zarathustra
   10 Record of Yoga
   4 Magick Without Tears
   2 Letters On Yoga IV
   2 Labyrinths
   2 Agenda Vol 08