I may not have the stereotypical head for business, but I have feet that were made for heels.
The world is all the richer for having a devil in it, so long as we keep our foot upon his neck.
I reeled my head back, and with violent, uncontrollable contortions, I launched a spray of yellow, soupy duckfoot vomit into the air. . . I (didn't see) where my regurgitated lunch had ended up after it'd been blasted from my throat. I booked it out of the now-befouled Chang'an Theater as fast as possible. (My guide) found me fifteen minutes later trying to look as casual as it is possible for a six-foot-two curly-haired white guy to look in a Beijing theater.
That's the thing about zombies. They don't adapt and they don't think. Literally, you could have a zombie on one side of a chain link fence and you could be on the other side and they could be trying to get to you and six feet down could be an open door and they will not go through that door in the fence. That's why they're so scary.
If my life were not a dangerous, painful experiment, if I did not constantly skirt the abyss and feel the void under my feet, my life would have no meaning and I would not have been able to write anything.
The ball was literally glued to the back of his foot - into the back of the net.
I love the chill October days, when the brown leaves lie thick and sodden underneath your feet.
God has no hands or feet or voice except ours and through these He works.
When I have a first draft, I have a floor under my feet that I can walk on. And then, especially with the help of the computer, rewriting is so easy to do with the computer, much easier than it used to be with the typewriter. So the books go through numerous drafts.
If we had better hearing, and could discern the descants of sea birds, the rhythmic tympani of schools of mollusks, or even the distant harmonics of midges hanging over meadows in the sun, the combined sound might lift us off our feet.
Processions that lack high stilts have nothing that catches the eye. What if my great-granddad had a pair that were twenty foot high, And mine were but fifteen foot, no modern stalks upon higher, Some rogue of the world stole them to patch up a fence or a fire.
Every speaker has a mouth; An arrangement rather neat. Sometimes it's filled with wisdom. Sometimes it's filled with feet.
I never felt so large and important as I did when being in love was everything. I saw you walking a foot above the earth and I remembered that was where I used to walk.
To brisk notes in cadence beating, glance their many-twinkling feet.
One foot in front of the other. Repeat as often as necessary to finish.
If you're going to kick authority in the teeth, you might as well use both feet.
I shake my head and the tiny acrobats fall like spangles, like the cool rain on another planet, down to the inside of my feet.
It is better to gain a foot than to stand still, even when you seek to gain a mile.
I still have every record company sending every new, hot track to me, to do music videos, so I'm chained by the foot to pop culture. I still know what kids dress like and speak like, and I still hang out with them. It's just the nature of my day job. I am a freak of nature that has to understand them.
Black people comprehend the South. We understand its weight. It has rested on our backs. . . I knew that my heart would break if ever I put my foot down on that soil, moist, still, with old hurts. I had to face the fearloathing at its source or it would consume me whole.