I sit with my knees pulled in tight and my arms wrapped around my shins. I can no longer feel my feet, as if blood refuses to spread so far from my heart.
He finally understood...the thing that the people during the Paleolitic Age, freaking 20,000 to 8,000 B.C., were after when they came up with mythologies to do with flight—a desire for the magic of the sky, for something bigger than their feet trea...
My nails clawed against the smooth tiles as I pushed up onto my hands and knees. I rose unsteadily to my feet. Speed is my ally. Breathe. In and out. Focus. Time is my power.
I am a duck. I’m cool and calm on the surface, but underneath it all is a nonstop struggle to succeed. My feet are like orange spatulas.
Sometimes you plodded through life with nothing changing from one month to the next no matter how much you yearned for a revolution to erupt beneath your feet. And sometimes your whole world imploded and rebuilt itself in a matter of seconds.
[I]n America, wrongs can be righted, warriors can wear skirts and blouses, and the bravest hearts may beat in girls only five feet tall.
It was one thing not to want a husband, I realized; it was quite another not to need one for the roof over your head, for your meat and bread, for the shoes on your feet and the coat on your back.
She flew into his arms. Held on tight as he swung her off her feet and hugged her so hard it hurt. She didn't care. She didn't want him to ever let go.
My parents were concerned that I would not get good schooling, so they put me up in my uncle's house in Dharwad, and I spent about six years there. So at a very young age, I was away from my parents. I developed an amount of independence and learned ...
Politicians usually get the blame for dragging their feet on environmental issues. And fair enough. Most of them do just that. But the blame isn't theirs alone. For politicians afraid of losing votes, a bristling media waiting to transform good green...
Only once in the historical record has a jump on the San Andreas exceeded the jump of 1906. In 1857, near Tejon Pass outside Los Angeles, the two sides shifted thirty feet.
A ball feels different off every player's racket-there are minute but concrete subtleties of force and spin. Now, hitting with her (Steffi Graf), I feel her subtleties. It's like touching her, though we're forty feet apart. Every forehand is foreplay...
It’s all inside of you—what you want, who you are, and who you want to be. Just give it time.” He pulls away and helps me to my feet. “Nobody makes you, you. You make yourself.
We drank coffee like two lovers, despite the fact that we were strangers separated by a window and about two hundred feet. Thank God for binoculars.
Somebody left a pair of baby shoes on a bench. I would have taken them home, if only they weren’t too big for my feet.
I strike the ground with the soles of my feet and life rises up my legs, spreads up my skeleton, takes possession of me, drives away distress and sweetens my memory. The world trembles.
Dream big, I dreamt of being taller when I was a kid, reinforced with flashbacks everyday I exercised diligently and to my surprise, I am still 5 feet tall.
That was torture--being able to see, and smell, and hear, and being trapped in a cage. Like standing on the wrong side of the fence, only a few feet from freedom, and knowing you'll never cross it. Yeah. Like that.
If I was an eccentric old spinster in a Merchant Ivory movie, I'd want to share my lovely cottage with Holly and that's the truth. I'd do the cooking and leave the decorating to her, and we'd be inseparable.
Remember Jesus of Nazareth, staggering on broken feet out of the tomb toward the Resurrection, bearing on his body the proud insignia of the defeat which is victory, the magnificent defeat of the human soul at the hands of God.
They're horrible little creatures. All snot and smelly feet and pestering questions." "Then why did you go into teaching?" "It was either that or sit at home with Mother all day. I picked the lesser of two evils.
