Enya Quotes

Manicures: Which are basically just holding hands with a stranger for forty-five minutes whilst listening to Enya.

Hopefully when he moved his things out of the apartment, he at least took his CDs. I mean, we might be gay, but… Enya? Really?

Don’t tell me,” I snickered. “You’re in a club that gathers together like raving Trekkies to share secrets of the afterlife. I bet you even have an Enigma CD you crank up to get in the mood.” “Don’t be silly.” His face lit up with an enormous grin. “We listen to Enya, not Enigma.

Long, long journey through the darkness Long, long way to go But what are miles across the ocean To the heart that's coming home?

Music! Goddammit! Music!" Mom screamed. "We have some lovely Enya. Very soothing," the midwife said. "Fuck Enya!" Mom screamed.

To leave the thread of all time And let it make a dark line In hopes that I can still find The way back to the moment I took the turn and turned to Begin a new beginning Still looking for the answer I cannot find the finish It's either this or that way It's one way or the other It should be one direction It could be on reflection The turn I have just taken The turn that I was making I might be just beginning I might be near the end.

Enya assessed him like a woman would a piece of fine cloth. "Rugged land for a rugged man.

Enya, patron saint of alternative health clinics around the world.

Each heart is a pilgrim, Each one wants to know The reason why the winds die And where the stories go. Pilgrim, in your journey You may travel far, For pilgrim it's a long way To find out who you are...

A portable CD player played some kind of new age stuff that sounded like aborigine instruments being used to help a woman imitate Enya. At any rate, there was definitely a bull-roarer and a didgeridoo in there somewhere.

We wrote our own vows; I take them to heart even today: I give you my heart, soul, and everlasting love. I promise to be there during both laughter and tears and to protect you in the days to come. I will be faithful and truthful, whether near or far, and will never give you cause for doubt. I will embrace your happiness and hold you when you are sad. I will be your biggest supporter and your constant friend. I will remind you of who you are when you forget. I will consider your happiness with every action. I will celebrate your soul and work to enrich your life as you enrich mine. Most of all, I will love you and show my love all the days of my life. Instead of traditional wedding music, we chose Enya’s version of “How Can I Keep from Singing.” The words of the song talk of a hymn that can always be heard, no matter how dark the night or how difficult the day. The song speaks of faith and endurance, and through it all, music. It seemed to perfectly capture our love and commitment to each other. The words and tune-hypnotic and soaring-would come to me at various parts of my life. I gave birth to it. I hear it in my head today.

I said to myself, This is going to be quick. I also thought: I’ll take the epidural now! Because the contractions were starting to demonstrate what the pain of birth is all about. The obstetrician came in. I smiled, ready for my shot. “I don’t know how to tell you this,” she said. “Your platelets are really, really low.” “Okay,” I said. I knew what platelets were-blood cells whose job it is to stop bleeding-but I had no idea why that was significant. “So, my epidural?” “You can’t have any medications.” “Come again?” “No drugs, no medications,” she said. “No epidural. I’ve called around to different anesthesiologists, and no one will touch you.” “No epidural?” “Nothing.” There are girls from third-world countries who do it with no drugs, I reminded myself. My mother elected for natural childbirth. How bad can it be? I got this. It started to hurt. I thought to myself, I am not going to cuss. Hell no! I am about to be a mother. I am bringing our baby into a positive environment and must be a good role model. Wow! The contractions built up quickly. My pristine vision of perfect, calm, quiet childbirth disappeared. A banshee snuck into the room and took over my body. Arrrgggh!!! No cursing! There was a rocking chair in the birth room. I went over and sat in it and began moving back and forth. Chris put on a CD by Enya that we’d brought to listen to: peaceful, pleasant music. I took a deep breath. Jeez, Louise! That one was a monster! Then, a breather. I’m doing goooooood! Breathe. Breathe… Wow! Then I said some other things. The banshee had a mind of her own. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” I apologized to the nurses as I recovered from the surge of the contraction. “It’s okay,” said Chris. The pain surged again. Dang! Jiminy! And other things. Chris would watch the monitor. Suddenly he’d turn to look at me. “What?” I asked. “That was a strong one.” “Uh-huh.” The funny thing is, the stronger the contractions were on the monitor, the less they seemed to hurt. Maybe when things are really bad you focus more on being tough. Or perhaps my brain’s pain mechanism simply went on strike when the agony got too much.

At some point I tried willing things along, mentally focusing on a rapid delivery. That didn't work. I got up to walk around-walking is supposed to help you progress-then quickly got back in the chair. “Argh!!!!!” I groaned. And other stuff. The way I saw it, my baby should have been out by now, shaking hands with his dad and passing around cigars to the nurses. But he apparently had other plans. Labor continued very slowly. Very slowly. We were in that room for eighteen hours. That was a lot of contractions. And a lot of PG versions of curse words, along with the X-rated kind. I may have invented a whole new language. Somewhere around the twelve-hour mark, Chris asked if I’d mind if he changed the music, since our songs had been playing on repeat for what surely seemed like a millennium. “Sure,” I said. He switched to the radio and found a country station. That lasted a song or two. “I’m so sorry,” I told him. “I need Enya. I’m tuned in to it, and it calms me…ohhhhh!” “Okay. No problem,” he said calmly, though not quite cheerfully. I’m sure it was torture. Chris would take short breaks, walking out into the waiting room where both sides of our family were waiting to welcome their first grandchild and nephew. He’d look at his dad and give a little nod. “She’s okay,” he told everyone. Then he’d wipe a little tear away from his eye and walk back to me. Chris said later that watching me give birth was probably the most powerless feeling he’d ever had. He knew I was in pain and yet couldn’t do a whit about it. “It’s like watching your wife get stabbed and not being able to do anything to help.” But when he came into the room with me, his eyes were clear and he seemed confident and even upbeat. It was the thing he did when talking to me from the combat zone, all over again: he wasn’t about to do anything that would make me worry. I, on the other hand, made no secret of what I was feeling. An alien watermelon was ripping my insides out. And it hurt. Whoooh! Suddenly one of the contractions peaked way beyond where the others had been. Bubba had finally decided it was time to say hello to the world. I grabbed the side rail on the bed and struggled to remain conscious, if not exactly calm. Part of me was thinking, You should remember this, Taya. This is natural childbirth. This is beautiful. This is what God intended. You should enjoy this precious moment and remember it always. Another part of me was telling that part to shut the bleep up. I begged for mercy-for painkillers.

I love silence. And I love the light.

Aim for the eye.” I say as Marek aims his sniper, “Alright Enya he says as we observe the werewolf down below our watch tower eventually Marek fires he's hit something. I look through my binoculars he's hit it...Just not where I said.

Is this Enya?” “Grimes,” Sarah said. “Sounds like Enya.” “Whatever, Nickelback.

He narrowed his eyes at Isla and said, “So. You’re the reason Oro doesn’t see us anymore.” Enya gave him a look. “No, the reason he doesn’t see us anymore is because the last time we got together, you called him an uptight wretch and asked when the last time he bedded someone was.

What is that unholy moaning?” said Rutspud. “It sounds like a whale trying to mate with a pipe organ.” “Oh, that’ll be the Enya,” said Scabass. “Don’t worry, you’ll totally forget about it once the kittens get to work on you.” With

Kila sumu ina kiuasumu chake. Viuasumu vya 'cyanide' ni 'amyl nitrite', 'sodium nitrite', 'cyanokit', na 'sodium thiosulfate'. Kazi ya viuasumu hivi ni kuzalisha madini mengi ya chuma mwilini. Madini haya yatapambana na maada za rangi za uhai ('cytochromes') kwa ajili ya 'cyanide', ili 'cyanide' ing’ang’anie kwenye kiuasumu badala ya kung’ang’ania kwenye vimeng’enya vya seli za mwilini. Kiuasumu kinaposhinda mpambano huo; 'cyanide' hutolewa nje kwa njia ya mkojo, na mwathirika wa 'cyanide' hupona kabisa. 'Sodium thiosulfate' ndiyo bora zaidi kuliko 'amyl nitrite' au 'sodium nitrite', na ndiyo bora zaidi kuliko 'cyanokit'.

And even worse still,” said Scabass, “they make you listen to this thing called Enya.” “What is Enya?” “Hope you never find out,” said Scabass. “Our lord is a tyrant, such as Hell deserves, but his methods are sometimes beyond the pale. Listen.” “What?

Tonight we were back to protecting Hesburn, our small community. We the hunters are here to stop the savage attacks that are terrorizing us and the people who take refuge in the cabins that we provide. Ris Hallori and I were working together again, he preferred a bow and arrow to my choice of a shotgun. But there was no sign of Enya Ravnaar it was just us. We had to stay alert and be aware of any sudden sounds, Ris was on edge constantly checking his surroundings I kept a safe distance behind, he was quicker on his feet then I was.

Bran dropped his sword and rushed to her. “Miss Enya.

You worship the king of Pop. Your soul is ignited by the New Age of Enya, Enigma and Era." She smiled weakly and continued, "You love Romance novels. They give you an escape route from the gory, grisly and sordid realities which are a part of our lives by reason of our profession." She bit her lower lip and released it. “You don’t womanize. Instead you implore the services of Lady Palm and her five sisters; and that of the breast biter. You do S and M, don’t you? You like beating or you like being beaten? Which of them? But I know you enjoy sex and pain.

i found the devil he is you

It would have been easy, so easy, so convenient, to ignore Enya’s words as jealousy or misguided advice. Deep inside, if she really thought about it, she knew Enya was right.

Bubble baths are good. But why not soak your body in aqua infused with sonic waves provided by waterproof speakers pulsing the healing music of Enya? That's what my ducks swim in, and that's why they taste like Amelia Earhart's final flight.

If you go into the match with your eyes wide open, Enya, you might eventually find love.” “My eyes are open, and I’m not looking for love.” She’d thought she’d found love once, but she’d been wrong and had ruined her life in the process. She wouldn’t make that same mistake twice.

From everything I heard tonight about you and Enya, she's satisfied with you." Sullivan was tempted to ask what Bellamy had heard, but it didn't matter. "She just told me she didn't love me." "Then keep loving her until she can't help but love you back." "I've already tried, and there's nothing more I can do." "Ach, there's always more you can do if you look hard enough.

Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger reads his Milestones and Memoirs.

A fact is, a script has been said, in a younger Youth.

From the North to the South, Ebudæ into Khartoum, From the deep sea of Clouds to the island of the moon, Carry me on the waves to the lands I've never been, Carry me on the waves to the lands I've never seen, We can sail, we can sail with the Orinoco Flow, We can sail, we can sail, Sail away, sail away, sail away.

I listen to Harry Styles, not Enya, and I’m not intimidating.

This is different,” she said. Enya smiled, and it was sad. She didn’t look cruel, or mean, and that made her words sting even more. “I believe those words have been spoken by every person in love since the beginning of time.

One by one my leaves fall One by one my tales are told

Ever close your eyes Ever stop and listen Ever feel alive And you've nothing missing You don't need a reason Let the day go on and on.

The left pavement rewrites an autumn leaf in the way I have the Coat.

The Great Bell Chant,” which is narrated by Buddhist monk Thich Nhat Hanh, as well as devotional music by the artists Enya, Snatam Kaur, Tina Malia, or Wah!

Een afgestompt potloodje is net even wat anders als een heuse Waterpen.

Because we were both afraid to say how we truly feel.” I get it. We take time for granted. But when time begins to run out, it becomes the most important thing in the world. I think of Brooke waiting for me at home, and I’m overcome with an intense need to see her. “He’s going to make it, Enya. And you’ll get all your futures with him.