True kindness is an anchor that drops deep into the heart and you feel it while it’s dropping. Meanwhile, untrue kindness is merely a condition of the face.
After scolding one's cat one looks into its face and is seized by the ugly suspicion that it understood every word. And has filed it for reference.
Henry Kissinger should have the door shut in his face by every decent person and should be shamed, ostracized and excluded.
Peculiar I say, how so often the smallest, most seemingly insignificant details later unveil their faces as vital means for progression.
So lately, been wondering Who will be there to take my place When I'm gone, you'll need love To light the shadows on your face.
One of my earliest memories is of bashing the keyboard with my hands, my chubby little baby hands, and I remember the sound hitting my face. It became my toy.
What happened in Queensland is that people are facing high unemployment relative to other states - 5.7 per cent when I last checked.
When I'm kissing someone, I don't want to feel as though I'm rubbing off all the makeup that's on their face or messing things around. I think natural is better.
2AM where do i begin, Crying off my face again, The silent sound of lonliness, Wants to follow me to bed
Immigrants have faced huge obstacles to achieving the American Dream, yet have persevered to overcome them.
It didn't matter as much because I'm a singer, not an actress, but my face is more acceptable in a way now than when I first came on the scene, because I'm part black.
I can promote until I am blue in the face, but ultimately nobody knows what makes a hit.
I always want to look like myself - that's key for me. I don't want to look like a different person, I don't want my face frozen.
sometimes we doubt the truth in the face of this earth, but not to worry. the important thing is to follow your conscience to walk in the truth
Most of the people who call me a sellout were 7 when I was down face-first in the punk trenches.
A woman said to me when she first sat down, You're photographing the wrong side of my face. I said, Oh, is there one?
With a woman of sophistication, class and modesty and refinement, I become a totally tongue-tied buffoon. I can't even look her straight in the face.
It's the face and the body and the thing that we hide inside that can keep us from the world, but my voice is my voice.
The beautiful heroine might be thinking, How long must I bury my face on this wretched man's shoulder? Such is not the always the case, but quite often it is.
So I had a couple of years of playing trumpet. I really enjoyed it, but it was not the kind of instrument you could whip out at a party. Let's face it.
The face of a lover is an unknown, precisely because it is invested with so much of oneself. It is a mystery, containing, like all mysteries, the possibility of torment.
