Quotes & Sayings About Work Boots

Alexander speaks. Anthony, I'm going to tell you something. In 1941, when I met your mother, she had turned seventeen and was working at the Kirov factory, the largest weapons production facility in the Soviet Union. Do you know what she wore? A ratty brown cardigan that belonged to her grandmother. It was tattered and patched and two sizes too big for her. Even though it was June, she wore her much larger sister's black skirt that was scratchy wool. The skirt came down to her shins. Her too-big thick black cotton stockings bunched up around her brown work boots. Her hands were covered in black grime she couldn't scrub off. She smelled of gasoline and nitrocellulose because she had been making bombs and flamethrowers all day. And still I came every day to walk her home. — Paullina Simons

The topic Walking with Christ daily The object Shoes of all styles, sizes, and colors - the more bizarre, the better. You can find a wide selection for next to nothing at a thrift shop. Try to get at least these kinds: work boots, bedroom slippers, dress shoes, running shoes, a pair that is totally worn-out, a pair with holes in the soles. The lesson Show the shoes one pair at a time, explaining how they can help us consider where we are in our walk with Christ: Dress shoes I have a nice, shiny faith on the outside - but I only bring it out on Sundays and special occasions. Bedroom slippers I've made a commitment to Christ, but I've been pretty lazy in terms of trying to serve him. — Helen Musick

Freedom is the right to sow what you want. It's the right to make boots or shoes, it's the right to bake bread from the grain you've sown and to sell it or not sell it as you choose. It's the same whether you're a locksmith or a steelworker or an artist - freedom is the right to live and work as you wish and not as you're ordered to. But there's no freedom for anyone - whether you write books, whether you sow grain, or whether you make boots." That night Ivan Grigoryevich lay — Vasily Grossman

No matter how good he looks right now, Josh Bennett without work boots & the smell of sawdust is all sorts of wrong. — Katja Millay

And above all, you should not think of writing as a way of earning your living. If you do, your work will smell of your poverty. It will be colored by your weakness and be as thin as your hunger. There are other trades which you can take up: make boots, not books. — Marquis De Sade

His father, that austere, unfeeling and untutored man, had insisted his sons polish their boots every evening. Flett has learned to be grateful for this early discipline. It kept him breathing as a boy, provided a pulse, gave order to vast incomprehension. Later he found other ways. — Carol Shields

Shoes are funny beasts. You think they're just clothes, but really, they're alive. They want things. Fancy ones with gems want to go to balls, big boots want to go to work, slippers want to dance. Or sleep. Shoes make the path you're on. Change your shoes, change your path. — Catherynne M Valente

With her purple hair, leather jacket with a decal of two dragons on the back, and tough-as-nails boots, Mal had trouble written all over her - which was precisely what she was going for. The bilious green spray paint spelled out LONG LIVE EVIL. Mal holstered her paint can, reveled in her work, and stepped into the bustling marketplace, where she was quickly swept up in the throng and blended into the sea of haggard, worn faces. — Walt Disney Company

wasn't Lily; it was Craig Simmons, the landscaper. Holding a sweat-stained baseball cap in his hand, the fortyish-something sandy-haired man stood on the front porch, still wearing his work boots, faded jeans and stained T-shirt. "Hello, Ms. Boatman, I just got back from lunch, noticed your car in the back drive and wondered if you had a chance to look through your house. I wanted to make sure everything is all right." "Yes, we went through the house, and nothing seems to be missing." That wasn't entirely true. She had only been to the library and kitchen, but according to Walt, Adam and Bill left empty — Bobbi Ann Johnson Holmes

You can't say 'Oh my stars.' 'Oh my stars' is not a thing, and it makes no sense. The whole point of that saying is that you're calling out to someone for help, and stars are not 'someone,' and certainly not capable of helping." The words were out and gone before I realized what was happening. Grace just stared back at me, and I wanted so badly to shake the girl and make her realize that life couldn't be all overalls and pink rain boots and guardian stars. I wanted to make her realize that sometimes you had to work. — Natalie Bina

We can feel sorry for ourselves or we can put the work boots on and understand the situation and the reality of it all. — Marty Turco

Maybe you don't work for seven months a year, but you'll work again. It may be a piece of garbage, so you wear hip boots. — Armand Assante

But the truth is, I want to be some woman's work boots, not her high heels."
"Work boots?" What was sexy about that? And did women have work boots?
"Yeah. You know, the boots she pulls out when she wants to get down and dirty, hiking or gardening or boating or painting the kitchen. The ones she relies on and trusts and lives her life hard and good and on her terms in. Her favorites. — Erin McCarthy

There is a certain pride in work and in your body throbbing beyond any boundaries you imagined you could endure. You identify with those who come home with pieces of pork fat wedged into their boots, with gashes on their arms and legs from their tools and machines, and with black grime etched into the folds of their dark skin.
Too often this country has turned its back on the working class and the working poor, not to mention the undocumented workers who harvest the food for American tables and build our houses. — Sergio Troncoso

You may talk o' gin and beer When you're quartered safe out 'ere, An' you're sent to penny-fights an' Aldershot it; But when it comes to slaughter You will do your work on water, An' you'll lick the bloomin' boots of 'im that's got it. — Rudyard Kipling

The others he wore simple work clothes - flannels and jeans with work boots. He was tall and handsome, with blue eyes and dirty-blond hair and a Donegal-style beard running along his broad jaw. He was athletically built with a charismatic, compelling look - like some rustic fashion model. And he had a vaguely familiar appearance. Grady felt certain he'd seen him somewhere before. Grady eyed the man warily. Are you the foreman — Daniel Suarez

I'd sit around dreaming that the boys I saw at shows or at work - the boys with silver earrings and big boots - would tell me I was beautiful, take me home and feed me Thai food or omelets and undress me and make love to me all night with the palm trees whispering windsongs about a tortured gleaming city and the moonlight like flame melting our candle bodies. — Francesca Lia Block

Bill was buying shoe-shines for Mike. Bootblacks opened the street door and each one Bill called over and started to work on Mike. "This is the eleventh time my boots have been polished," Mike said. "I say, Bill is an ass. — Ernest Hemingway,

As for Madelyne, she continued to ply her trade. But such a life takes a fast toll on a woman. It is easy to be a remote, untouchable beauty and stay that way for many, many years. And if a stunning tapestry is hung upon a wall, it remains unsullied and a work of art. However, if one drapes it across the floor of a pub and all manner of men tread upon it with their heavy boots, it's going to be worn rather thin, and rather quickly. Such was the case with my mother. — Peter David

Speaking of jeans, good Lord, the man's ass was a bona fide work of art. As he strode toward the nearby counter to place his order, his work boots not making a single sound, those tight buns set off a choir of rejoicing angels in her head. — Tessa Bailey

I have tried to write songs quickly that get scrapped. I've also taken a long time on songs that get scrapped because you can over-think something, and you've squeezed the life out of it. As opposed to work of art, it looks like a really great work of craftsmanship. — Boots Riley

Great brands are like great stories. And every story has a beginning, a middle, and an end. And our job is to make sure that every chapter of our stories makes sense to the one in front of it and make sense to the one after it. There is no such thing as an overnight success. You have to get up and put your work boots on every single day. — Kevin Plank

She imagined Jack standing among the bins of nails and tool belts and the ranks of crowbars, unspoken to beyond the ordinary courtesies, seeming unaware of their awareness of him, watching flickering television in that cave full of the smells of leather and wood and oily metal, idle among all those implements of force and purpose, citified among the steel-toed boots and the work shirts. An odd place for a man to loiter who was so alive to embarrassment, so predisposed to sensing even the thought of rebuke. — Marilynne Robinson

No, I promised him I wouldn't fight a giant." "So you obey the letter of the law and not the spirit," she said. "Yes." My teeth finally stopped chattering. I loved my turtleneck. I loved my jacket. I loved my boots. Mmm, wonderful warm boots. "How come when I do that, you chew me out?" "Because you don't do it well enough to get away with it." Julie blinked. "What kind of move was that, at the end?" "It's from Escrima, a Filipino martial art. I'll show you when we get a minute, but you will have to practice, because it has to be done really fast for it to work. — Ilona Andrews

Unless I work with Shah Rukh my career cannot be complete. I can't hang my boots till that happens. — Bipasha Basu

Marriage is hard work, and you have to show up in hard hat and boots every day of every year. — Eric Jerome Dickey

But she beat that voice down and stomped on it with imaginary work boots. Those steel-toed monsters were good for something. — Victoria Dahl

I love black leggings with cowboy (I mean cowgirl!) boots, and other-slightly less trendy-things like my boys' Wrangler jeans and my husband's worn deerskin work gloves. I love most things country, because country, to me, is home. — Ree Drummond

Seth lay on a sofa. His large dirty work boots were defiantly planted on the sofa cushion, all his energy focused on smoking a cigarette, as if it were a job. — Frederick Weisel

I walk to work, so boots are a staple for me. — Stacey Bendet

I garden a lot in LA, so fashion consists of boots, work pants and T-shirts, unless I'm going out. — Kyle MacLachlan

Fathers are ...
The teeth on a saw,
The head of a nail,
The blades on a mower.
Fathers are ...
The grit in a tumbler,
The cement in the pit,
The coin for the machine.
Fathers are ...
The air in the tires,
The spring in the suspension,
The key to the ignition.
Fathers are ...
the confidence in a dare,
The energy of a command,
The boots for the trail.
Tis true you might make things work without them,
but not at all like they were meant to. — Richelle E. Goodrich

Sicarius padded toward the exit, his soft black boots silent on the tile floor. He paused in the doorway and glanced at the backs of the two older men.
The emperor emitted a nervous chuckle. "You trained him too well, Hollow. The man bothers me."
"He is loyal."
"I know. You did a good job. I ought to give you Sespian to work with. The boy is disappointing."
"He does seem soft," Hollowcrest said.
"Did you hear that scream? I would've been fascinated by severed heads at that age."
"You're fascinated with them now, Sire."
"True enough."
They shared a laugh and headed for the door. Sicarius slipped away before they noticed him. — Lindsay Buroker

Presents? Cake? I could use a new bat, maybe some good work boots or running shoes. — Patricia Hamill

The principal advantages of living in your station's section house is that it is cheap, close to work and it's not your parents' flat. The disadvantages are that you're sharing your accommodation with people too weakly socialised to live with normal human beings, and who habitually wear heavy boots. The weak socialisation makes opening the fridge an exciting adventure in microbiology, and the boots mean that every shift change sounds like an avalanche. — Ben Aaronovitch

Wear your new boots." He passed her the clothes. "They'll work well with that, and with the coat as well."
"What new boots?" Her eyebrows drew together as he took them off a shelf. "And where did they come from?"
"The boot elves, I assume."
"The boot elves are going to be pissed when they're dinged and scuffed inside a week."
"Oh, I think they're more tolerant than that."
"Those elves keep this up I'm going to need a bigger closet."
But she dressed as advised, then sat to pull on the boots while Roarke programmed breakfast for two.
They slid on like
as Peabody might say
butter. "Okay." She stood, took some strides. "They're great. Sturdy
I could definitely kick some teeth in with these."
"The elves had that as top priority. — J.D. Robb

I travel to work on my motorcycle, so it's jeans, boots and a brown Aero leather jacket that weighs as much as I do. If it were black, it would seem like I've got a Brando idea going on, which I don't. — Hugh Laurie

Mitch, who was six foot four and, at two hundred and twenty pounds, quite an imposing figure, strode out wearing nothing but his fire boots. Well, and a few soapsuds. He ambled over to the big bay windows, grabbed a squeegee, and went to work scrubbing the glass, his twig and berries swinging in the wind. The entire crew doubled over, dying of laughter. Everyone, that is, except for the captain, who was looking apoplectic. "What the hell are you doing?" he bellowed. "Cleaning like you ordered. Sir," Mitch added politely, scrubbing with a whole new level of vigor. — Jill Shalvis

It was summertime and I was in The Azores, hanging around the small village my parents are from. I was looking out on this very rural setting, on a road going up a hill. There was an old man coming down the hill with a pitchfork on his shoulder. He was wearing gum boots, work pants - and a Coca-Cola T-shirt. I saw that and thought, That's my album! — Nelly Furtado

Skinny jeans are usually my go to jean. I do bootleg every once in a while, boyfriend jeans I feel like are so hard to pull off! Skinny jeans are very easy and you can kind of pair anything with them and it will work: heels and boots or nice top or flouncy top. — Ashley Greene

Some of the men were dressed like Peter and wore red plaid hunting jackets or bulky tan Carhartt jackets or lined flannel shirts, and all of those men were wearing jeans and work boots. Some of the men wore ski jackets and hiking boots and the sort of many-pocketed army green pants that made you want to get out of your seat and rappel. Some of the men wore wide-wale corduroy pants and duck boots and cable0knit sweaters and scarves. It was a regular United Nations of white American manhood. But all the men, no matter what they were wearing, were slouching in their chairs, with their legs so wide open that it seemed as though there must be something severely wrong with their testicles. — Brock Clarke

And besides, we're not really all that different. Although I think I'm a little more ... "
"What?"
"Optimistic." She nudged him with her shoulder. "You're Eeyore."
He blinked. "You think I'm Eeyore?"
"You tell me. I take my empty glass and try to fill it up with what happiness I can find. Friends, family, my work ... And then there's you."
He raised a brow. "Me."
She nudged him again, looking playful and damn sexy while she was at it. It was the short shorts with the boots, he decided. Or everything. It was everything.
"You take that empty glass," she said, happily analyzing him. "And you wonder what the heck to do with it. You don't need the glass, you don't have time for the glass. Hell, you'll just drink from a spigot if you get thirsty. And in any case, there's probably another one up the road if that one runs out, so - — Jill Shalvis

En you show up to work and put on your undergarments, throw on your suspenders and your cowboy boots, throw some dirt on you, and then get on your spurs, you start to walk a bit different. When you put on your gun belts, you change again. You go through this whole transformation process. All that stuff changes you. Riding a horse changes the way you walk and your demeanor. — James Badge Dale

Something I still work on today is ankle flexion - ankle pressure in your boots. There is no way to turn or have your skis carve unless you're going down the hill leaning forward, and that puts you in a good athletic position to do whatever you want to do on your skis - make quick turns, make long turns, or absorb bumps. — Ted Ligety

Early morning mist ghosted along the Orm, trailing above the water, rising and twisting. Wide and sleek and almost silent, the river curled through the valley, curved almost to the doors of the stone-terraced cottages sunk tight in the moorland.
As soon as he was beyond sight of the mill gates, Manny ran, his step lighter, his boots crunching against the highway. The village was quiet now, and he could hear the faint cries of sheep on the hillside. He felt suddenly exultant at having acted decisively, felt the thrill of running away. Then he reasoned with himself that he wasn't so much running away as running to something else - something better - running away to take charge of his future. He was improving his station in life, looking for work of his choosing. — S.J. Wilkins

The reason we were with Mama that day was because it was a snow day. School was canceled, but we were too little to stay alone in our apartment while Mama went to work - which she did, through snow and sleet and probably also earthquakes and Armageddon. She muttered, stuffing us into our snowsuits and boots, that it didn't matter if she had to cross a blizzard to do it, but God forbid Ms. Mina had to spread the peanut butter on her own sandwich bread. In fact the only time I remember Mama taking time off work was twenty-five years later, when she had a double hip replacement, generously paid for by the Hallowells. She stayed home for a week, and even after that, when it didn't quite heal right and she insisted on returning to work, Mina found her tasks to do that kept her off her feet. But when I was little, during school vacations and bouts of fever and snow days like this one, Mama would take us with her on the B train downtown. Mr. — Jodi Picoult

I come from a pretty working-class neighborhood in Chicago. Hard work was just expected of you. It wasn't some noble thing you did; it was a prerequisite. It's what a man did. You get up, you put on your boots, and you work hard. We've lost a lot of that, I'm afraid. — John C. Reilly

He'd abandoned his usual outfit of black rap clothes or GI Joe cammies. He was wearing a brown leather jacket, a cream-colored Henley, faded jeans, and work boots. His hair, which had always been slicked back in a ponytail, was cut short. He had a two-day beard, making his teeth seem whiter and his Latino complexion seem darker. — Janet Evanovich

pulled into a dark tunnel. I found myself hurtling down an almost vertical dirt path, skipping over rocks and dirt patches like Indiana Jones until I hit bottom with a thud. Six years as a private investigator and I'd never fallen down a tree before. I caught my breath, got to my feet and dusted myself off. Good thing I never dress up for work. My old jeans and boots were none the worse for wear. I was wondering how I'd get back up to the surface when I noticed the flicker of golden sconces on — Linsey Lanier

She glanced back at him over her shoulder and caught him staring at her butt.

"Anything else you need?" She let her eyes skim over him, from the top of his short hair to his work boots, as she stood upright. "Or maybe you need a few more minutes to check out my ass?"

The corner of his mouth lifted in a smirk and he took a step closer. "What can I say, Bailey? Those jeans make your ass look great. — T.J. Kline

We had rarely seen our fathers in work boots before, toiling in the earth and wielding brand-new root clippers. They struggled with the fence, bent over like Marines hoisting the flag on Iwo Jima. It was the greatest show of common effort we could remember in our neighborhood, all those lawyers, doctors, and mortgage bankers locked arm in arm in the trench, with our mothers bringing out orange Kool-Aid, and for a moment our century was noble again. — Jeffrey Eugenides

She can outstare anyone, and I am almost as good. We're impervious, we scintillate, we are thirteen. We wear long wool coats with tie belts, the collars turned up to look like those of movie stars, and rubber boots with the tops folded down and men's work socks inside. In our pockets are stuffed the kerchiefs our mothers make us wear but that we take off as soon as we're out of their sight. We scorn head coverings. Our mouths are tough, crayon-red, shiny as nails. We think we are friends. — Margaret Atwood

I used to be a gibber-poet. . . . assemblages of appropriated text from cereal box side panels. I'd spell every third word backwards to foreground the slipping signification of say, riboflavin, dextrose, whatever - the arbitrariness of the act is what charges the work with politically subversive anti-hegemonic gender inspecificity. Once you implode the ingredients hierarchy you've eradicated the implicit privileging of the phallocentric socio-economic taxonomy. The whole banana to slip . . . into pro-metaphoric usage is so de-centered you can bet your boots they won't be recon-deconstructing Sugar-Frosted Flakes again till the cows some home to roost. — James W. Blinn

Once, no self-respecting puncher considered himself dressed for work until he had his feet inside of a pair of $15 boots made by one of the favorite boot-makers, whose merits they discussed about the camp fires night after night. — Will C. Barnes

LEONARD WAS A THICK, dark-haired man, Lucas's height but heavier, both in the arms and the gut. He was wearing a plaid shirt, jeans, and yellow work boots. The scars around his pale, suspicious eyes and a withered nose made him into a brawler. — John Sandford