A Quote by Simone de Beauvoir

That is what chills your spine when you read an account of a suicide: not the frail corpse hanging from the window bars but what happened inside that heart immediately before.
Thrills, chills, spine-tingling mystery, and lots of smiles. It's not easy to combine heart-pounding danger with gut-busting laughs and make it work, but Peterson pulls it off. For readers who want nonstop action infused with powerful, life-changing themes, North! Or Be Eaten is a must-read.
There was a time when just the thought of waking up before the sun rose sent chills down my spine. But once I actually started getting out of bed earlier, I noticed that it wasn't all that bad.
Lack of enthusiasm in the stands tends to be less inspirational on the field. It doesn't send the chills down your spine. It's not that magic moment that you dream about growing up.
The room inside is definitely the biggest plus of the car. Your head is not anywhere near the (roll) bars, like it's sitting against the bars in the other (current) cars.
I don't care who you are, the pressure is on to go to the next task immediately. What happened to the days of hanging out in the hammock all afternoon?
'Mercury' being a silent film needed a strong background score that could give you chills down the spine.
Excuse me, but I believe you have my lady,” one of them said in a quiet, deep voice that sent veritable chills down George’s spine. Harry.
Mine is a most peaceable disposition. My wishes are: a humble cottage with a thatched roof, but a good bed, good food, the freshest milk and butter, flowers before my window, and a few fine trees before my door; and if God wants to make my happiness complete, he will grant me the joy of seeing some six or seven of my enemies hanging from those trees. Before death I shall, moved in my heart, forgive them all the wrong they did me in their lifetime. One must, it is true, forgive one's enemies-- but not before they have been hanged.
The beast in me Is caged by frail and fragile bars.
Night after night I could feel the chills go up and down my spine, they played so well.
I think if I were walking someplace and I saw a corpse my brain would tell me it was a million things before I believed it was a corpse.
I've seen an awful lot of plays that I'd read before they were put into production and been shocked by what's happened to them. In the attempt to make them straightforward and commercially successful, a lot of things go out the window.
Every time Bush talks about trust it makes chills run up and down my spine. The way he has trampled on the truth is a travesty of the American political system.
What I remove from my writing is linear context. It's not really important to me, because it doesn't give me chills to see, "you flip the latch and the lock opens and then you can open the top of the chest and inside the chest is this." That doesn't give me chills, to think in that vein. So I've always kind of avoided it.
I stayed under the moon too long.I am silvered with lust.Dreams flick like minnows through my eyes.My voice is trees tossing in the wind.I loose myself like a flock of blackbirdsstorming into your face.My lightest touch leaves blue prints,bruises on your mind.Desire sandpapers your skinso thin I read the veins and arteriesmaps of routes I will traveltill I lodge in your spine.The night is our fur.We curl inside it licking.
Several months later, and I have finally read one of the three (books), even though I wanted to read all three of them immediately. What happened in between? Other books, is what happened. Other books, other moods, other obligations, other appetites, other reading journeys.
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