A Quote by Jean Rhys

Something came out from my heart into my throat and then into my eyes. — © Jean Rhys
Something came out from my heart into my throat and then into my eyes.
I wrestled futilely, then relaxed as a vine wrapped three times around my throat and squeezed. Right," I choked out, and shut my eyes. "I'll wait here, then.
The morning I got up to begin this book I coughed. Something was coming out of my throat: it was strangling me. I broke the thread which held it and yanked it out. I went back to bed and said: I have just spat out my heart.
Words that come from the heart are never spoken, they get caught in the throat and can only be read in ones's eyes.
You moved my head so that it was lying in your lap. "Keep your eyes open," you said. "Stay with me." I tried. It felt like I was using every muscle in my face. But I did it. I saw you from upside down, your lips above my eyes and your eyes above my lips. "Talk to me," you said. My throat felt like it was closing up, as if my skin had swollen, making my throat a lump of solid flesh. I gripped your hand. "Keep watching me, then," you said. "Keep listening.
There's so much bullying with young people and them feeling like they can't come out, and they don't know what to do. And it's something that you have to work through. And, you know, for me, it was - I came out, and then I went back in for a minute. And then I came out, and I was like, 'You know what? This is who I am.'
There are films you see that only reach your eyes. Then there are films that you can watch... that reach down to your throat, or reach your heart. "In the Mood for Love," though, reached all the way to my belly.
There are films you see that only reach your eyes. Then there are films that you can watch... that reach down to your throat, or reach your heart. 'In the Mood for Love,' though, reached all the way to my belly.
I came to the industry with wide eyes and an open heart thinking I was going to make a few films that really meant something that I could pour myself into.
You'd have a good voice, if it ever came out of your throat
You'd have a good voice, if it ever came out of your throat.
You know, all is development. The principle is perpetually going on. First, there was nothing, then there was something; then-I forget the next-I think there were shells, then fishes; then we came-let me see-did we come next? Never mind that; we came at last. And at the next change there will be something very superior to us-something with wings. Ah! That's it: we were fishes, and I believe we shall be crows.
I don't know if it's a stare or if it's something I do with my eyes when I'm really focused in on someone or something. Apparently it comes out every now and then.
Later when I thought of the chickens, one of those rare pale blue eggs rose up into my throat. The chickens had been part of our family, and the egg in my throat was the feeling of something missing. It was hard and smooth and heavy, but also so fragile it might break and make me cry. It was the feeling of growing out of a favorite shirt, milk spilled on the floor, the last bit of honey in the jar, falling apple blossoms. It was the lump in the throat behind everything beautiful in life.
Slowly, very slowly, he sat up, and as he did so he felt more alive, and more aware of his own living body than ever before. Why had he never appreciated what a miracle he was, brain and nerve and bounding heart? It would all be gone...or at least, he would be gone from it. His breath came slow and deep, and his mouth and throat were completely dry, but so were his eyes.
In general, my rule is find out where your heart is, then speak from the heart. People know the difference between that and something scripted.
'Wild at Heart' simply came out of my journey as a man and then my work with men.
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