Sweating Quotes
More Sweating Quotes
I couldn't eat, just went on drinking coffee, and sweating it out again. Liquid had no time to be digested; it came through the pores long before it reached the stomach. I lay wet through with sweat for four hoursit was very nearly like happiness.
— 1939 In Mexico. The Lawless Roads (published in the US as Another Mexico).
and I am sweating a lot by now and thinking of leaning on the john door in the 5 SPOT while she whispered a song along the keyboard to Mal Waldron and everyone and I stopped breathing
Frank O'Hara— 1964 Of Billie Holiday. Lunch Poems,'The Day Lady Died'.
My heart was beating. I got sick in my stomach and my hands were sweating — everything you feel when you are under pressure. I've been nervous before, but nothing like this.
annika sörenstam— Comments about the first tee pressure after first round of the Bank of America Colonial PGA Tournament - May 2003 [[1]]
106 [degrees] in the valley...I was sweating like Dan Rather checking for forged documents.
jay leno— Jay Leno, September 10, 2004, on The Tonight Show
Good housewives all the winter's rage despise, Defended by the riding-hood's disguise; Or, underneath the umbrella's oily shade, Safe through the wet on clinking pattens tread, Let Persian dames the umbrella's ribs display, To guard their beauties from the sunny ray; Or sweating slaves support the shady load, When eastern monarchs show their state abroad; Britain in winter only knows its aid, To guard from chilling showers the walking maid.
john gay— John Gay, Trivia, Book I, line 209.
Sci-fi can be succinctly defined as speculation, whether based on established scientific facts or on logical pseudo-facts consistent with the framework of the fiction in question, involving smelly green pimply aliens furiously raping or eating, or both, beautiful naked bare-breasted chicks, covering them in slime, red, oozing, living slime, dribbling from every horrific orifice, squeezing out between bulbous pulpy lips onto the sensuous velvety skin of the writhing sweating slave-girls, their bodies cut and bruised by knotted whips brandished by giant blond vast-biceped androids called Simon, and written in the Gothic mode.
Peter nicholls— Peter Nicholls, True Rat 7 (1976)
The city overwhelmed our expectations. The Kiplingesque grandeur of Waterloo Station, the Eliotic despondency of the brick row in Chelsea … the Dickensian nightmare of fog and sweating pavement and besmirched cornices.
john updike— On London, in “A Madman,” New Yorker (22 December 1962)
