Art Quote by William Gibson

“His nostrils flared, he was breathing like a picadored bull.”

— Jerry Spinelli

“He was up to his neck in it. He was breathing the air of its world, adapting to its gravity. The story's essence had…

— Haruki Murakami

“He flicked through the yellowed rough-cut pages and breathed its musty smell. It filled him with a strange excitement, as if he'd caught a…

— Joan London

“Then his head sank to the floor of its own accord and from his nostrils came the last faint flicker of his breath.”

— Franz Kafka

“... the perennial outsider with his nose to the window, looking in on a world from which he felt excluded.”

— Douglas Kennedy

“She smelled of flowers and rain. A meadow beneath a storm. It was intoxicating, and before he could even ponder why he would think…

— Micah Persell

“...he liked his transcendence out in plain sight where he could keep an eye on it -- say, in a nice stained-glass window --…

— Neal Stephenson

“He was breathing the air of its world, adapting to its gravity. The story’s essence had permeated every part of him, to the walls…

— Haruki Murakami

“Before he got too far, he thought he smelled a fire. No sooner did he blink before he sensed something dire. He heard a…

— J.Z. Bingham

“His breathing was labored. His eyes were closed. But I was convinced that he was seeing everything. That he was seeing the truth in…

— Elie Wiesel

“Very slowly, he turned a full circle, taking in the nothingness of it all. It seemed his lungs could never be large enough to…

— M.L. Stedman

“Something inside his chest unlocked--wildly, slowly, a peculiar sort of melting. He was lost. He was the thorn and the thistle, blown upon her…

— Shana Abé