I am tired, beloved, of chafing my heart against the want of you; of squeezing it into little ink drops, and posting it. And I scald alone, here, under the fire of the great moon.
I probably have the worst wardrobe. It's the most ill-fitting with the worst patterns and colors and the most nipple rubbage. There's bad chafing, and it's always tight in all the wrong places. What's sad is that I'm kinda getting used to it.
Always the idea of unbroken quiet broods around the grave. It is a port where the storms of life never beat, and the forms that have been tossed on its chafing waves lie quiet forevermore. There the child nestles as peacefully as ever it lay in its mother's arms, and the workman's hands lie still by his side, and the thinker's brain is pillowed in silent mystery, and the poor girl's broken heart is steeped in a balm that extracts its secret woe, and is in the keeping of a charity that covers all blame.
Not only is New York City the nation's melting pot, it is also the casserole, the chafing dish and the charcoal grill.
Brokenness is the shattering of my self-will - the absolute surrender of my will to the will of God. It is saying “Yes, Lord!” - no resistance, no chafing, no stubbornness - simply submitting myself to His direction and will in my life.
There's a balance and I feel very, very strong and very, very fit at the moment. There's no - touch wood - niggles at the moment, there's nothing that's twinging or nothing that's too painful. Apart from a bit of chafing from the wetsuit!
It's good to put on some lube under your wetsuit, so I tend to use a lot of baby oil on my arms and legs. It stops you chafing and helps you get your wetsuit off after the swim.
I am tired, Beloved, of chafing my heart against the want of you; of squeezing it into little inkdrops, And posting it.
As a young writer, I was sort of sailing around trying to 'find my voice' - for lack of a better term - and I was really chafing against the very minimal brand of domestic realism that I'd read so much of in college.
My children have always existed at the deepest center of me, right there in the heart/hearth, but I struggled with the powerful demands of motherhood, chafing sometimes at the way they pulled me away from my separate life, not knowing how to balance them with my unwieldy need for solitude and creative expression.
The only bright spot in the entire evening was the presence of Kevin "Tubby" Matchwell, the eleven-year-old porker who tackled the role of Santa with a beguiling authenticity. The false beard tended to muffle his speech, but they could hear his chafing thighs all the way to the North Pole.
They say the path of true love never runs smooth. Well, Luke and my true love's path didn't run at all, it limped along in new boots that were chafing its heels. Blistered and cut, red and raw, every hopping, lopsided step, a little slice of agony.
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