Leg Press Quotes & Sayings

Societies cannot move forward without law, and our constitution is the cornerstone of the law and our National Assembly is its umbrella and fortress. — Hamad Bin Isa Al Khalifa

Enthusiasm is more active than faith, though enthusiasm cannot remove mountains nor call into action any of the omnipotent forces which faith can command. Activity is often at the expense of more solid, useful elements, and generally to the total neglect of prayer. To be too busy with God's work to commune with God, to be busy with doing church work without taking time to talk to God about His work, is the highway to backsliding, and many people have walked therein to the hurt of their immortal souls. — Edward McKendree Bounds

Rain falls steadily outside and dampens my leg. I shiver at the cold night air and the breeze on my bare arms. I'm about to drop down into the space between the bushes and the wall when a hand closes around my wrist.

It's Gavin, and he looks furious. 'You intend to go out there?' he asks. 'And you can't even see them, can you?'

I try to pull myself from his grip, but he only tightens his hold. 'I never said I could.'

'You implied it.'

'I'm un-implying it now.' I grin. 'I have other means.'

Gavin studies me intently. 'Did you choose this?'

Leaning in close, I press my cheek against his, a touch that goes against every social rule I've ever been taught. It's the excitement of the hunt that courses through me, a savage hum. I'm beyond propriety, beyond etiquette.

'I revel in it. — Elizabeth May

He was holding his right leg, but the blood soaked through his fingers and flowed over his hand onto his sleeve. Intuition had served me again this time: my kick had knocked his automatic out of his grasp a fraction of a second before he could press the trigger. The second kick was to his face. It sent him flying about six feet. I set my sights on his head, but something stopped me, one of our guys let out a yelp behind me. Another bullet whistled by right next to me. Apparently, this Mujahadeen was not the only one here. Again, I aimed at his head, but something again stopped me. I saw how his hands were trembling. I noticed the horror in his eyes. 'He is only a boy!' I thought and pressed the trigger. — Vladislav Tamarov

My best ideas come to me at unexpected moments, like when I'm reading children's books to my kids (the pictures inspire me), shopping, driving somewhere, seeing different things. — Mary Engelbreit

It's funny - when you look at the real A-listers nowadays, look at how many live in and around Hollywood. Most of them live on a ranch in Utah. It's no coincidence these guys get in and get out. — Darren Boyd

Don't talk age! Age has nothing to do with it. One of my guys who started out at my gym is 87 now, and he still does ten bench-press reps with a hundred-pound dumbbell in each hand. He's training to set a leg-pressing record. I put things in the guy's brain way back when, and now he'll never get away from it. — Jack LaLanne

When something isn't done, you want to do something about it. — Bernadette Peters

Do you think I'm pretty?" I heard myself ask.
Something I couldn't name flashed across his face.
"No. I don't think you're pretty. I think you're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen. — Jeaniene Frost

Most commanders wanted as many good sources of information as possible. MacArthur was focused on limiting and controlling his sources of intelligence. — David Halberstam

He leaned in. I felt his breath against my neck, then the press of his mouth against my skin just above the collar, almost a sigh.
"Don't," I said. I drew back, but he held me tighter. His hand went to the nape of my neck, long fingers twining in my hair, easing my head back. I closed my eyes.
"Let me," he murmured against my throat. His heel hooked around my leg, bringing me closer. I felt the heat of his tongue, the flex of hard muscle beneath bare skin as he guided my hands around his waist. "It isn't real," he said. "Let me."
I felt that rush of hunger, the steady, longing beat of desire that neither of us wanted, but that gripped us anyway. We were alone in the world, unique. We were bound together and always would be.
And it didn't matter.
I couldn't forget what he'd done, and I wouldn't forgive what he was: a murderer. A monster. A man who had tortured my friends and slaughtered the people I'd tried to protect. I shoved away from him. "It's real enough. — Leigh Bardugo

It seems like he's keeping my foot within his grasp for longer than necessary when I see his eyes wander up my legs again. I tingle in every spot his gaze touches.
His voice sends shivers up my spine when he asks, "Have you ever been fucked, Eve?"
My eyelids flutter and I let out a small surprised gasp at his question, breath gushing from my lips. I'm not exactly a virgin, not too far off though, and I can safely say that I have never been fucked in the way that Phoenix is insinuating. Most of the sex I've had has been the fantasy kind. Our eyes lock and he moves his hand from the heel of my foot up along the back of my leg, massaging my shin.
I actually moan when his fingers press in, releasing the tension from a knotted muscle. His mouth opens as he watches me.
"I don't think that's a very appropriate question to ask of a friend," I finally manage to croak out.
He smiles darkly. "I told you I was bad news. — Raine Anthony

Since our nights together on that trip, I had longed every night to feel her next to me, to curl up against her, my stomach against her behind and my chest against her back, to rest my hand on her breasts, to reach out for her when I woke up in the night, find her, push my leg over her legs, and press my face against her shoulder. — Bernhard Schlink

Most forms of Protestantism are inherently secular, at least at the ideological level, due to their compartmentalization of faith from works, of church from state, of grace from an incarnational manifestation of sanctity. — Gregory C. Dilsaver

Can a need for sanity reach insane proportions? — Michael R. Fletcher

I KNOW HE'S GONE. I CAN STILL FEEL THE LINGERING pain from the new scar on my leg. I might never stop feeling that; it could be with me for the rest of my life.
I have to try.
I fall to my knees in the mud next to Eight's body. The wound doesn't even look so bad. There's not as much blood as there was in New Mexico, and Eight lived through that. I should be able to heal this, right? It should work. It has to work. But this one is right on his heart, straight through. I press my hands across the puncture and will my Legacy to kick in. I did it before. I can do it again. I have to.
Nothing happens. I feel cold all over, but it's not the iciness of my Legacy.
I wish I could lie down next to Eight here in the muck and just shut out everything that's going on around me. I'm not even crying - it's like the tears have gone out of me and I just feel hollow. — Pittacus Lore

If you choose the wrong questions and you proceed, you still get a result, but it's not interesting. — Bruce Nauman

At the high school a pretty girl strolled across the parking lot to her black stallion, let her cigarette dangle from her lips while she put on her helmet, adjusted her goggles. Throwing a slender white leg over the side she jacked her little backside up and down a few times, exciting the steed. Now she came down on his back and he squatted, moaning to the soft squeeze of her hand, then at her sudden clutch shot out fast between the press of her knees. Claude looked down at his shoes as they passed, having seen nothing. But he glanced up in time to watch them glide off under the next streetlamp, the gleaming beast appearing almost languid with release, very pleased with himself and with the girl who clung to his back, small and stiff and unsatisfied.
She had been noticed: everywhere along the way the leaning people looked after her as though wondering if the new week had finally begun, then they looked at one another, then back at nothing. — Douglas Woolf

No man is an unbeliever, but because he will be so; and every man is not an unbeliever, because the grace of God conquers some, changes their wills, and binds them to Christ. — Stephen Charnock