I Hate Asthma Quotes

I'm scared of him," said Piggy, "and that's why I know him. If you're scared of someone you hate him but you can't stop thinking about him. You kid yourself he's all right really, an' then when you see him again; it's like asthma an' you can't breathe...

I'm scared of him," said Piggy, "and that's why I know him. If you're scared of someone you hate him but you can't stop thinking about him. You kid yourself he's all right really, an' then when you see him again, it's like asthma an' you can't breathe.

I'm scared of him. And that's why I know him. If you're scared of someone you hate him but you can't stop thinking about him. You kid yourself he's all right really, an' then when you see him again, it's like an asthma an' you can't breathe.

Simon stirred in the dark. “Go on being chief.” “You shut up, young Simon! Why couldn’t you say there wasn’t a beast?” “I’m scared of him,” said Piggy, “and that’s why I know him. If you’re scared of someone you hate him but you can’t stop thinking about him. You kid yourself he’s all right really, an’ then when you see him again; it’s like asthma an’ you can’t breathe. I tell you what. He hates you too, Ralph—” “Me? Why me?” “I dunno. You got him over the fire; an’ you’re chief an’ he isn’t.” “But he’s, he’s, Jack Merridew!” “I been in bed so much I done some thinking. I know about people. I know about me. And him. He can’t hurt you: but if you stand out of the way he’d hurt the next thing. And that’s me.

IT ALL BEGINS with a remarkable exploit of a man called Brown, who stole with complete success a Spanish schooner out of a small bay near Zamboanga. Till I discovered the fellow my information was incomplete, but most unexpectedly I did come upon him a few hours before he gave up his arrogant ghost. Fortunately he was willing and able to talk between the choking fits of asthma, and his racked body writhed with malicious exultation at the bare thought of Jim. He exulted thus at the idea that he had “paid out the stuck-up beggar after all.” He gloated over his action. I had to bear the sunken glare of his fierce crow-footed eyes if I wanted to know; and so I bore it, reflecting how much certain forms of evil are akin to madness, derived from intense egoism, inflamed by resistance, tearing the soul to pieces, and giving factitious vigour to the body. The story also reveals unsuspected depths of cunning in the wretched Cornelius, whose abject and intense hate acts like a subtle inspiration, pointing out an unerring way towards revenge.

I thought he was having an asthma attack, but otherwise he seemed calm. Mentally, I thanked him for it, because if there’s anything I hate it’s a hysterical Frenchman.

Abuse became a regular part of our lives. I remember feeling sick every single day when I'd hear John walking in the door because it was only a matter of chance whether he'd be in a good mood or ready to beat the hell out of us....And the worst thing we could do was 'act like a girl.' This high crime consisted of showing even the slightest hint of emotion. If I cried, if I complained, I could expect to be whipped or beaten. I was a sickly kid at that point, a sufferer of severe asthma who could have a life-threatening attack at a moment's notice. John hated that weakness, and he punished my mom and me for it.