I guess this is why I hate governments, all governments. It is always the rule, the fine print, carried out by fine-print men. There's nothing to fight, no wall to hammer with frustrated fists.
When I get to the movie set, I don't need to have a sort of iron fist that a movie is about me and my ideas. A lot of filmmakers don't have that benefit, so when they have their moment to let all that creativity out of them, it's all about them. It's their movie; it's their thing.
Usually in fist fights you get punched in the face.
Shura, I’m yours. You may not like it today, you may not want it tonight, you may wish for it all to be different now, but it remains, and I remain, as always, only yours. Nothing can change that. Not your wrath, your fists, your body or your death.
My fist so rocky and and wrist so icy, Might be, thrown off my rocker just slightly, Feisty, claimin' hot temper don't ignite me, I'm only gonna ask ya find the exit once politely
If your slave commits a fault, do not smash his teeth with your fists; give him some of the (hard) biscuit which famous Rhodes has sent you.
Why won't you drown?" he wailed, pummeling me with his fists. "I'm Poseidon's son," I said. "Curse that upstart! I was here first!
Carra doesn't like me to fist him before the games, so I give him a high-five instead.
The pain of hope dying is worse than his fists and boots.
You take five fingers. Individually, I can pin any one of them, but if I pin them together (makes a fist), it's damn near impossible to turn this around.
You can approach the act of writing with nervousness, excitement, hopefulness, or even despair - the sense that you can never completely put on the page what's in your mind and heart. You can come to the act with your fists clenched and your eyes narrowed, ready to kick ass and take down names. You can come to it because you want a girl to marry you or because you want to change the world. Come to it any way but lightly. Let me say it again: you must not come lightly to the blank page.
« He squeezed his hands into fists. I picked up a grapefruit-sized rock and handed it to him. It went flying. Home run, Beast Lord style.
I love you. I love you, but I’m turning to my verses and my heart is closing like a fist.
Why, I hold fate Clasped in my fist, and could command the course Of time's eternal motion, hadst thou been One thought more steady than an ebbing sea.
We must apply our humble efforts to the construction of a more just and humane world. And I want to declare emphatically: Such a world is possible. To create this new society, we must present outstretched and friendly hands, without hatred and rancor, even as we show great determination and never waver in the defense of truth and justice. Because we know that we cannot sow seeds with clenched fists. To sow we must open our hands.
Life is not a fist. Life is an open hand waiting for some other hand to enter it.
She was fluent in four languages and yet her fists against the rusted hood were the fullest articulation of her defeat.
If man had his way, the plan of redemption would be an endless and bloody conflict. In reality, salvation was bought not by Jesus fist, but by His nail-pierced hands; not by muscle but by love; not by vengeance but by forgiveness; not by force but by sacrifice. Jesus Christ our Lord surrendered in order that He might win; He destroyed His enemies by dying for them and conquered death by allowing death to conquer Him.
I can't seem to keep my heart from leaking out of the cracks, like sand clutched in a fist.
Forgot to live-tweet the election last night, so I'm post-tweeting today. I'll start as soon as my fingers unclench from their rage fists.
When I see Almunia's performances, I get angry and have to make a fist in my pocket
When I was a child, my father taught me to put up my fists like a boy and to be prepared to defend myself at all times.
The giant raised his fist, and a voice cut through the dream. "Leo!" Jason was shaking his shoulder. "Hey, man, why are you hugging Nike?" Leo's eyes fluttered open. His arms were wrapped around the human-sized statue in Athena's hand. He must have been thrashing in his sleep. He clung to the victory goddess like he used to cling to his pillow when he had nightmares as a kid. (Man, that had been so embarrassing in the foster homes.) He disentangled himself and sat up, rubbing his face. "Nothing," he muttered. "we were just cuddling. Um, what's going on?
I've definitely had my fair share at shaking my fists at the gods of Hollywood, but I'm learning that I cannot think that way or I will go crazy.
You’ve claimed me, little firecracker. You kicked a pair of two hundred pound men’s asses. I will never get over that. You kicked my whores out. Pete told me. You staked your claim on me, even before you realized I’d staked mine already.” He fists my hair and pulls me close to his lips. “I’m yours now … Even if I screw this up, I’ll still be your screw-up.
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