As soon as he had departed she directed her attention to the others. “I need a shielded containment box, radiation gloves and a micro welding torch. And a crescent wrench.
I’ll convert a school desk into a tricycle, because how else am I supposed to learn to love? It’s not like baseball gloves are very effective oven mitts.
It would be hard to throw a punch to someone who wasn't a boxer, who wasn't in the ring, and who didn't have on a pair of boxing gloves and who hadn't been training.
I always tried to watch the pitcher and his complete windup from the moment he had the ball in his glove all the way through his motion, and tried to follow it all the way out of his hand, all the way to home plate.
History is the history of human behavior, and human behavior is the raw material of fiction. Most people recognize that novelists do research to get the facts right - how a glove factory works, for example, or how courtesans in imperial Japan dressed...
If you would be just as content winning a local Golden Gloves fight as you would making a pile of money as a professional, then fine, go become a boxer. But if the whole idea is for you to get rich, my God, stay in school and learn a profession.
I wear a lot of black, knitwear, skinny jeans and very high heels. My mum used to work for a fashion designer making knitwear, so she knits me lots of chunky scarves, hats and gloves, which I love.
Parallels between classical and pop are not new. The whole San Francisco movement of John Cage and Terry Riley went hand in glove with what the Velvet Underground were doing.
I used to help my granddaddy make sausage. He would mix it up in a cleaned-out washtub with his hands, no gloves. Man, if we did anything like that today, they would jack the jail up and throw us under it.
There are a lot of people who influenced me, nurtured me, helped me along the way. But I can just recall looking back, the first time I got my baseball glove. Put it on the wrong hand, all those kind of things.
Ernest Hemingway: If you're a writer, [slams fist on table] Ernest Hemingway: declare yourself the best writer. But your not, as long as I'm around, unless you want to put the gloves on and settle it.
I think winter wear is communal. You get some gloves and a scarf from a lost-and-found box, wash them, wear them for a while until you lose them. Then somebody else does the same thing.
I talked yesterday about caring, I care about these moldy old riding gloves. I smile at them flying through the breeze beside me because they have been there for so many years and are so old and so tired and so rotten there is something kind of humor...
Kristoff: So, uh tell me. What made the Queen go all ice crazy? Anna: Oh well, it was all my fault. I got engaged, but then she freaked out because I'd only just met him, you know that day. She said she wouldn't bless the marriage and... Kristoff: [I...
Kristoff: So, uh tell me. What made the Queen go all ice crazy? Anna: Oh well, it was all my fault. I got engaged, but then she freaked out because I'd only just met him, you know that day. She said she wouldn't bless the marriage and... Anna, Krist...
I—though forced through lack of space to assume the form of a stoic guinea pig crouched between the girl's shoe and the glove compartment—was my usual dignified self.
The old joke is that psychiatrists are doctors who can't stand the sight of blood. Maybe they can't stand it, but if they work where I work, they damn well better get used to it. At least surgeons and prizefighters get to wear gloves
The only way I’ll play beer pong is if the room was a sterile room, the table was stainless steel sprayed down with disinfectant, the ball brand new, and everybody playing wore gloves and hairnets underneath their space suits.
Why do you have a cigarette lighter in your glove compartment?" her husband, Jack, asked her. "I'm bored with knitting. I've taken up arson
I got bored," he says. "Besides, you know what's creepier than walking around your dead brothers' apartment? Sitting alone in a hearse in front of his apartment.
I've given her signs! I've given her plenty of signs. What does she want me to do? Slap him across the face with my glove, and challenge him to pistols at dawn?
