Quotes
Quotes about Feet
Their feet through faithless leather met the dirt, And oftener chang'd their principles than shirt.
It embarrasses me to think of all those years I was buying silk suits and alligator shoes that were hurting my feet; cars that I just parked, and the dust would just build up on them.
The artist's world is limitless. It can be found anywhere, far from where he lives or a few feet away. It is always on his doorstep.
If you're going to kick authority in the teeth, you might as well use two feet.
Oh those little, those little blue shoes! Those shoes that no little feet use. Oh, the price were high That those shoes would buy, Those little blue unused shoes!
He seemed a cherub who had lost his way And wandered hither, so his stay With us was short, and 'twas most meet, That he should be no delver in earth's clod, Nor need to pause and cleanse his feet To stand before his God: O blest word--Evermore!
A baseball fan is a spectator sitting 500 feet from home plate who can see better than an umpire standing five feet away.
The first time I shot the hook, I was in fourth grade, and I was about five feet eight inches tall. I put the ball up and felt totally at ease with the shot. I was completely confident it would go in and I've been shooting it ever since.
A man's best things are nearest him, Lie close about his feet.
My skull, my eyes, my nose three times, my jaw, my shoulder, my chest, two fingers, a knee, everything from the top of my head to the bottom of my feet. [Listing what body parts he has broken].
The cat would eat fish, and would not wet her feet.
If toast always lands butter-side down, and cats always land on their feet, what happens if you strap toast on the back of a cat and drop it?
When you jump for joy, beware that no one moves the ground from beneath your feet.
Therefore, friends, As far as to the sepulchre of Christ-- Whose soldier now, under whose blessed cross We are impressed and engaged to fight-- Fourthwith a power of English shall we levy, Whose arms were moulded in their mother's womb To chase these pagans in those holy fields Over whose acres walked those blessed feet Which fourteen hundred years ago were nailed For our advantage on the bitter cross.
If there had anywhere appeared in space Another place of refuge where to flee, Our hearts had taken refuge from that place, And not with Thee. For we against creation's bars had beat Like prisoned eagles, through great worlds had sought Though but a foot of ground to plant our feet, Where Thou wert not. And only when we found in earth and air, In heaven or hell, that such might nowhere be That we could not flee from Thee anywhere, We fled to Thee.
Feast of Leo the Great, Bishop of Rome, 461 Lord, forgiveâ That I have dwelt too long on Golgotha, My wracked eyes fixed On Thy poor, tortured human form upon the cross, And have not seen The lilies in Thy dawn-sweet garden bend To anoint Thy risen feet; nor known the ways Thy radiant spirit walks abroad with men.
Who has not marveled at the might of kings When voyaging down the river of dead years? What deeds of death to still an hour of fears, What waste of wealth to gild a moth's frail wings! A Caesar to the breeze his banner flings, An Alexander with his bloody spears, A Herod heedless of his people's tears! And Rome in ruin while Nero laughs and sings: Ye actors of a drama, cruel and cold, Your names are by-words in Love's temple now, Your pomp and glory but a winding-sheet; Then Christ came scorning regal power and gold To wear warm blood-drops on a willing brow, And we, in love, forever kiss His feet.
Drop, drop, slow tears, and bathe those beauteous feet Which brought from heaven the news and prince of peace. Cease not, wet eyes, his mercies to entreat; To cry for vengeance sin doth never cease; In your deep floods drown all my faults and fears, Nor let his eye see sin but through my tears.
"What means this glory round our feet," The Magi mused, "more bright than morn!" And voices chanted clear and sweet, "To-day the Prince of Peace is born."
Don't let anybody walk trough your mind with dirty feet.
My prophecy is but half his journey yet, For yonder walls, that pertly front your town, Yon towers, whose wanton tops do buss the clouds, Must kiss their own feet.
Thus I set my printless feet O'er the cowslip's velvet head, That bends not as I tread.
Stoop where thou wilt, thy careless hand Some random bud will meet; Thou canst not tread, but thou wilt find The daisy at thy feet.
I am bit sending messages with my feet. All I ever wanted was not to come up empty. I did it for the dough and the old applause.
Endearing Waltz--to thy more melting tune Bow Irish jig, and ancient rigadoon. Scotch reels, avaunt! and country-dance forego Your future claims to each fantastic toe! Waltz--Waltz alone--both legs and arms demands, Liberal of feet, and lavish of her hands.
