I play a couple basic folks songs and break them down. I did that on a six string. I can't recall all the songs on it. There's some finger picking on it.
God, I can push the grass apart and lay my finger on Thy heart.
I am a finger pointing to the moon. Don't look at me; look at the moon.
Commander: What's that? Foaly: It's a finger, what does look like?
I'm not an elected official who puts a finger in the wind to see what the majority thinks; I represent women, whether they're popular or not.
It's not that comedy has changed in terms of what's funny. For me, it's changed in that sometimes I don't feel my finger is on the pulse.
Prayer sometimes dulls the hunger of the pauper, like a mother's finger thrust into the mouth of her starving baby.
I am showering, naked as a jaybird, and here comes Rahm Emanuel, not even with a towel wrapped around his tush, poking his finger in my chest, yelling at me.
I experimented with all possible maneuvers-loops, somersaults and barrel rolls. I stood upside down on one finger and burst out laughing, a shrill, distorted laugh. Nothing I did altered the automatic rhythm of the air. Delivered from gravity and buoyancy, I flew around in space.
Oh, leave it,” said Jem, kicking Will, not without affection, lightly on the ankle. “She’s annexed my plan!” “Will,” Tessa said firmly. “Do you care more about the plan being enacted or about getting credit for it?” Will pointed a finger at her. “That,” he said. “The second one.
Evil is relative…You can’t hang a sign on it. You can’t touch it or taste it or cut it with a sword. Evil depends on where you are standing, pointing your indicting finger.
Don't point your finger to the heights your children should go. Start climbing and they will follow.
There's also just socially, personally. There is something naughty about pot. There is something that is rebellious and outlawish and a kind of, you know, a finger in the eye of the government saying, hey, you can't tell me what to do. That would be gone if legalize it.
If no words come, you can always give him the finger.
It's like you might have some great scene that you love but for some reason - and you can't necessarily put your finger on it - the movie's not working or it seems slow or ponderous in some way, and even though it has your favorite scene in there, actually the favorite scene is the culprit. That's the painful thing about editing, is trying to locate those things that are holding the movie back and then having the guts to cut them. And it is painful to do it.
Marrying a woman for her money is very much like setting a rat-trap, and baiting it with your own finger.
Art is a finger up the bourgeoisie ass.
What's scary is the unknown, the stuff you can't put your finger on.
Before the operation on my left hand I wasn't able to stretch my fingers open all the way. I've never had very big hands, but I could do the splits with them. Eventually I couldn't any more. I had a twisted tendon in my little finger that prevented me from being able to stretch.
It's an individual sport (golf), so it's the exact opposite of baseball. If you hit a bad shot, you can't say, 'Well, this happened. ' It's just you. It's your shot. You can't point the finger at anybody but yourself.