Put your middle finger and your thumb together. And make it snappy.
It's so beautifully arranged on the plate - you know someone's fingers have been all over it.
But then he combs his fingers through my hair, starting at the base of my neck, and I shiver with uncontrollable, unexpected pleasure.
Love is like an unfathomable idea. An idea that is slightly above euphoria, yet a fingers width from heaven.
A middle finger is more New York than a corporate ambush. I bleed for my hometown, and I'd die for my fans.
We should give as we would receive, cheerfully, quickly, and without hesitation; for there is no grace in a benefit that sticks to the fingers.
Ambition has one heel nailed in well, though she stretch her fingers to touch the heavens.
To snap my fingers and let it go away. Even if it takes the 3,000th hit with it, just let it all go away.
The statue of Freedom has not been cast yet, the furnace is hot, we can all still burn our fingers.
It felt as if things were literally slipping through my fingers. Things were just streaming away from me. I lost my sense of humor. I'm still looking for that.
Knowledge is invariably a matter of degree: you cannot put your finger upon even the simplest datum and say this we know.
God, I can push the grass apart and lay my finger on Thy heart.
I want to be a mystery to you, untouchable, a star all to myself a galaxy away from your starved fingers.
Prayer is a many fingered and kaleidoscopic thing—it folds and unfolds inside of you. It enters the many rooms you cannot enter.
The wider you spread your fingers apart while clapping is equal to the amount of retarded you look while clapping.
Love is like quicksilver in the hand. Leave the fingers open and it stays. Clutch it and it darts away.
I never tried to revolutionise photography; I just do what I do and keep my fingers crossed that people will like it.
Math? Forget about it. If I add four plus eight plus six, I have to count on my fingers. I guess I'm hooked up differently.
We do have our finger on the pulse of the marketplace, if for no other reasons than having all these live events and listening to our audience all the time.
Ash: [as his evil sawn-off hand gives him the finger] Son of a...!
Soap: OY! Keep your fingers out of my soup!
