Hatred is the ballast of the rock which lies upon our necks and underfoot.
I have nothing left to prove. I've already done enough to my neck.
Time grabs you by the scruff of your neck and drags you forward. You get over it, of course. Everyone was right about that. One mathematically insignificant day, you stop hoping for happiness and become actually happy.
[When to have a facelift:] If you're tripping over your neck.
On the back of Satan's neck is a nail scarred footprint.
Earlier today former Vermont Governor Howard Dean became the new head of the Democratic National Committee -- no word on who will be the neck.
He was the ghost you never saw coming, death breathing down your neck before you even realized you were in the crosshairs.
Don't look back, never look back. How often do people tell themselves that after an experience that is exceptionally good (or exceptionally bad?)? Often, I suppose. And the advice usually goes unheeded. Humans were built to look back; that's why we have tat swivel joint in our necks.
Lowly, with a broken neck, The crocus lays her cheek to mire.
I like audiences to crane their necks.
Cobbles and kettledrums!. . . I hope this madness isn't going to end in a moonlit climb and broken necks.
If all that Americans want is security, they can go to prison. They'll have enough to eat, a bed and a roof over their heads. But if an American wants to preserve his dignity and his equality as a human being, he must not bow his neck to any dictatorial government.
Nay, but Jack, such eyes! such eyes! so innocently wild! so bashfully irresolute! Not a glance but speaks and kindles some thought of love! Then, Jack, her cheeks! her cheeks, Jack! so deeply blushing at the insinuations of her tell-tale eyes! Then, Jack, her lips! O, Jack, lips smiling at their own discretion! and, if not smiling, more sweetly pouting - more lovely in sullenness! Then, Jack, her neck! O, Jack, Jack!
I like when my face tingles, when the hair on the back of my neck stands up.
Most Internet business theorists are really looking at preserving the necks of giant, Fortune 500 companies, rather than promoting the digital, peer-to-peer economy that actually wants to happen.
We get used to a certain kind of colour of form or format, and it's acceptable. And to puncture that is sticking your neck out a bit. And then pretty soon, that's very acceptable.
My encyclopedic knowledge of rock and roll is a millstone around my neck.
Your station is in my heart, and on the necks of those who would insult you.
Oh, I'm being eaten By a boa constrictor, A boa constrictor, A boa constrictor, I'm being eaten by a boa constrictor, And I don't like it--one bit. Well, what do you know? It's nibblin' my toe. Oh, gee, It's up to my knee. Oh my, It's up to my thigh. Oh, fiddle, It's up to my middle. Oh, heck, It's up to my neck. Oh, dread, It's upmmmmmmmmmmffffffffff. . .
Pride, that invisible bone that keeps the neck stiff.