Feet Quotes - Page 108

I think it's hard for people to suspend the era they live in and understand the decisions that had to be made often during the western frontier era were life and death. You had to be resourceful and on your feet to try to figure out somebody. You didn't have the benefit of knowing who somebody was.

It was an experience of a lifetime to sit only a few feet away from him [Castro] and watch him relive an experience he lived as a very young man.

A lot of people believe in reading reviews. If I get too focused on some detail of what they've said about me, I'm going to end up shooting myself in the foot.

I love the slider. I'll throw it anytime. It helps the curve. The last five feet, it dives toward the left-handed hitter's box. It's a pitch that looks like a fastball coming in. It's a pitch I throw when I need a ground ball with a man on base.

Well there's only one way to prepare for playing beach volleyball, and that's by getting in the sand. But offseason is really important because generally I'm staying off the sand and getting my feet under me, and it's really important for my body to know what it feels like to have sound footing under me.

A vital part of philosophizing is learning to trust one's own intuitivist intelligence, getting one's center of gravity back between one's feet. In our culture-so outer-directed, "objective" or extraverted-this is already heresy. This is self-mastering thinking, centered in what has been well-tested as certainties: autarkia or self-rule.

"Joy" is based, albeit loosely, on the life of Joy Mangano, an entrepreneur, inventor and QVC shopping network star with the mega-selling Miracle Mop. Jennifer Lawrence is excellent as Joy, but the film starts off on the wrong foot with woeful depictions of her background as the only sane person in her dysfunctional family.

I don't think fast enough on my feet in terms of the writing to change the script too much when I'm shooting it. I like to have it set and done and know that I feel good about it and I might add a few lines here and there while we're shooting, if I think of a new joke, I might toss it in, but for the most part, I try to stick to the written script and have all the latitude exist within that.

The troubles of the 20th century are not unlike those of adolescence -- rapid growth beyond the ability of organizations to manage, uncontrollable emotion, and a desperate search for identity. Out of adolescence, however, comes maturity in which physical growth with all its attendant difficulties comes to an end, but in which growth continues in knowledge, in spirit, in community, and in love; it is to this that we look forward as a human race. This goal, once seen with our eyes, will draw our faltering feet toward it.

Being completely and totally present and at every single point of space and time, It is fully and completely present here and now, thus we can no more attain immanent Spirit then we could, say, attain our feet.

His whole body shakes with the strain as he tries to lift something he knows he can't lift, something everybody knows he can't lift. But, for just a second, when we hear the cement grind at our feet, we think, by golly, he might do it.

Women's clutches are too small. I open my purse, and with some hydraulic force, a tampon shoots 12 feet into the air.

When you get that tired, it becomes really challenging to keep bringing your best foot forward.

I think right now in the world we're feeling like there's no solid ground beneath our feet, you know?

Sometimes it is safer to read maps with your feet.

Dangerous? Do you remember what Xavier's power is? Teleportation. Limited Teleportation, They guy can move about 10 feet. Worst thing he could do to me? Poke me in the eyes, and go "Nyuk, Nyuk, Nyuk" and Zip away before I can smack him," - Elena

He stood and inhaled, then walked a few more feet, stooped, and prodded a chunk of rabbit fur. “I’m definitely thinking something with more body parts,” I said. “Like a head.” He gave a snort of a laugh. “It’s probably around here somewhere, but I suppose you want the parts attached, too.

I love the flexibility of saying, "Today we're making 50-foot paintings, and we're going to have to join hands and figure out how that's going to work." But in the end, it's a possibility.

I'm competitive with myself, and that goes hand in hand with how I present myself. I'm not only trying to put one foot in front of the other, I'm trying to put my best foot forward.

I walked over to Drake and stomped on his foot. Hard. "What will I give you to help me? What will I give you?" He stood on one leg rubbing his foot, grinning a grin so steamy, it almost melted my underwear. "I never doubted you would defeat her. You are my mate. You could do no less." I pointed a finger at him. "You are too arrogant for your own good. I officially de-mate you. Go away. I never want to see you again. Except maybe tonight. Naked. Your place. But after that, no more.

The day your child says she hates you, and every child will go through the phase, it kicks like a foot in the stomach.

Beside Mama, in my own folding chair, with my feet sticking out in front of me, I thought about my own innards. Just a few months before I'd had no idea whether my reproductive equipment worked. There was no evidence. But that week I had become a full-fledged bleeder and was still absorbed by this first change in myself that I had ever noticed. The click and buzz of my synapses kept making the same connection. If you can change, you can also end. Death had always been a theory to me. Now I knew. The terror hurt good and I nursed it and played it like a loose tooth.

I never had a serious injury that kept me out of a big competition. Now everyone has injuries - to their feet or their knees or their backs.

They've found this spider, in the jungle. Three foot long, it eats chicken. Bit weird, innit. People moan saying that you shouldn't lock animals up and all the rest of it, but to be honest I wish it was locked up. The idea that it's roaming in a jungle... get it locked up.

The need of a constantly expanding market for its products chases the bourgeoisie over the entire surface of the globe. It must nestle everywhere, settle everywhere, establish connections everywhere. The bourgeoisie has, through its exploitation of the world market, given a cosmopolitan character to production and consumption in every country. To the great chagrin of reactionaries, it has drawn from under the feet of industry the national ground on which it stood.