Phalanges Fingers Quotes & Sayings

Of course, mothers were very conventional, everything was very conventional. You had to have approval. — Jack Kirby

I have a romantic conception of the writer's life, and the sort of writer's life that I admire is probably a childless life, possibly a marriageless life, certainly a travelling life - I'm in awe of how much D.H. Lawrence managed to get around. But that's never been something I'm capable of doing. — Rachel Cusk

If I do not remember thee. Either our beds are soft, or our hearts hard, that can rest when the church is at unrest, that feel not our brethren's hard cords through our soft beds. - John Trapp. — Charles Haddon Spurgeon

We should always look back on our own past with a sort of contempt, as long as the tenderness is there - but please let some of the contempt be there. — Dennis Potter

Most beginners are too anxious for results. Real progress takes place over a long period of time. — Mary Beth McKenzie

So that others can live in peace, talk about love and peace wherever you go. — Debasish Mridha

Unlike the messier MySpace, Facebook has a cleaner and easier-to-customize interface and is much more, as Zuckerberg once described it to me, 'utilitarian.' I would call it useful and more relevant than other competitors, and a white-label version would likely be a hit. — Kara Swisher

In general, and most especially with artists, I pay as much attention to the man who does the work, as to the work itself. — Vincent Van Gogh

A man's life will not come again, once it has slipped through his teeth. And no power on earth can bring it back. This is the mortal law. Then no longer will his bones be held together by wet sinews. Then no longer the soul flutter in his mouth. But by Death's blazing light, he is ground out and spent. — Paul Pope

Jamie laid a hand on mine, and my fingers turned to intertwine with his. I could feel his pulse in my own fingertips, the solid bones of knuckle and phalanges. His right hand, battered and marked with the scars of sacrifice and labor. Marked also with the signs of my love, the crude repairs done in pain and desperation. Blood of my blood, bone of my bone ... — Diana Gabaldon

Back then the cars had a trap door that we could pull open with a chain to check our tire wear. — Tim Flock