Feet Quotes - Page 120

As the artist matures she is continuously shaken by what she manages to discover: by the earth shifting beneath her feet once again, by her own amazed, ringing laughter.

Hey, if you can't remember, don't worry about it. I'm having a few memory problems myself in this place. Little things like how long I've been here, what my purpose in life is, which feet to put my shoes on. Stuff like that.

I'm on my feet, pacing around the room, punching a fist into my palm, which I stop doing when I realise how drama queen it feels.

She leaped into space, high, higher than she'd ever been in her life. She came down with a clean snap, and the crowd scattered like birds from the swing of her feet.

I'm an attention freak. I want all the women in the world, and if I don't get them, I fall to the ground and start kicking my feet.

They say I have the ugliest feet in the world. I don't care if they say it - I'm not gonna hide 'em!

I can feel the knee or the foot. The baby is starting to get heavy, and it’s a really incredible feeling. I’m so grateful I get to experience this.

Knew I how to pray, to intercede for your [broken] Foot were intuitive - but I am but a Pagan.

Is Bliss then, such Abyss, I must not put my foot amiss For fear I spoil my shoe? I'd rather suit my foot Than save my Boot -- For yet to buy another Pair is possible, At any store -- But Bliss, is sold just once. The Patent lost None buy it any more --

Faith—is the Pierless Bridge Supporting what We see Unto the Scene that We do not— Too slender for the eye It bears the Soul as bold As it were rocked in Steel With Arms of Steel at either side— It joins—behind the Veil To what, could We presume The Bridge would cease to be To Our far, vacillating Feet A first Necessity.

What fortitude the Soul contains, That it can so endure The accent of a coming Foot- The opening of a Door.

I could not prove the Years had feet-/Yet confident they run.

I've always been brought up to stand on my own two feet and not rely too heavily on everyone else around me.

It'll take you a couple of vodka and tonics to set you on your feet again.

If you're stuck at piano and you're not a lead guitarist or a lead vocalist, you're kind of at a nine-foot plank then and you should do something about it.

I wonder what will happen if i put a hand cream on my feet, will they get confused and start clapping?

I have huge hands and feet. I'm 5'6" and wear a size 10 shoe.

When I'm wearing heels at events, my feet feel like they're sitting in pools of blood.

I remember asking myself one night, while I was curled up in the same old corner of my same old couch in tears yet again over the same old repetition of sorrowful thoughts, 'Is there ANYTHING about this scene you can change, Liz?' And all I could think to do was stand up, whle still sobbing, and try to balance on one foot in the middle of the living room. Just to prove that - while I couldn't stop the tears or change my dismal interior dialogue - I was not yet totally out of control: at least I could cry hysterically while balanced on one foot.

Your father only has one foot on this earth. And really, really long legs . . .

I have my own set of survival techniques. I am patient. I know how to pack light. But my one might travel talent is that I can make friends with anybody. I can make friends with the dead. If there isn’t anyone else around to talk to, I could probably make friends with a four-foot-tall pile of sheetrock. That is why I’m not afraid to travel to the most remote places in the world, not if there are human beings there to meet. People asked me before I left, “do you have friends [there]?’ and I would just shake my head no, thinking to myself, But I will.

We do not look for reason for logic in the passionate entreaties of those who are sick unto death; we are stung with the recollection of a thousand slighted opportunities of fulfilling the wishes of those who will soon pass away from among us: and do they ask us for the future happiness of our lives, we lay it at their feet, and will it away from us.

Sometimes you get politicians who dig their feet into the sand and aren't willing to listen to another voice.

Who's that little brunette?" Suzanne asked. "I hate little petite types. Gregory doesn't look right with someone petite. Little face, little hands, little dainty feet." "Big boobs," Beth said, glancing up.

For me, as an actress, being a dancer has helped me. I've done it with my feet bloody.