Im obsessed with socks. I even wear them to bed!
I don’t have a photograph, but you can have my footprints. They’re upstairs in my socks.
We're like socks. You can put us through a rough wash once, but you'll never use us again.
Sadly, my socks are like snowflakes, no two are exactly alike.
You're going to blow his socks off!
I am a fan of a bright sock. They're bold.
are you saying that the feeling of searching for a missing sock is like searching for love ?
What use are socks? They only produce holes.
His socks compelled one's attention without losing one's respect.
I wish i could change my mind as easily as I change socks But then I don't change socks so easily
I box in yellow Gox box socks.
I feel like dress socks differentiate you in a different way - especially men in suits who just have the traditional business suit. The dress sock is the way to change it up in your mind and I like wearing my pants up higher so you see them.
It's better to wear seaweed socks than stick a melon in your brother's ear.
It is a peculiarity of knitters that they chronically underestimate the amount of time it takes to knit something. Birthday on Saturday? No problem. Socks are small. Never mind that the average sock knit out of sock-weight yarn contains about 17,000 stitches. Never mind that you need two of them. (That's 34,000 stitches, for anybody keeping track.) Socks are only physically small. By stitch count, they are immense.
If I'm traveling, I'll pack socks in my bag - really cute furry ones.
My dreams are the usual incoherent nonsense. Like most writers, at some point in my career I thought, well, I have these great dreams but I always forget them in the morning so I’ll leave a pad on my bedside table so I can write it down, and then you have some incredible dream and you write it down and the next morning you wake up and you’ve written ‘purple socks’.
I do for myself exactly what I would do for you - make a lovely cup of tea, or a hot bath, or go buy myself a fabulous pair of socks. I believe that you take the action, and THEN the insight follows - I do loving things for me, stroke my own shoulder, put myself down for a short nap, and the insight follows: that I am a wild precious woman, a human merely being, as e e cummings put it, deserving of respect, tenderness, protection, delight, and solidarity. And that is what Home looks like for me now.
With the way I dress, I think my personality shows, so I don't always have to talk. Someone can see what I'm wearing, see what socks I'm wearing, and see what my vibe is, what kind of person I am.
I don't think people need to know what colour socks I'm wearing today; I don't think people need to know what shower gel I'm using. There's too much information in the world, and there's no magic or mystery anymore.
I am working on a dress sock line of funky, colorful, cool designs.
As we walk our individual life journeys, we pick up resentments and hurts, which attach themselves to our souls like burrs clinging to a hiker's socks. These stowaways may seem insignificant at first, but, over time, if we do not occasionally stop and shake them free, the accumulation becomes a burden to our souls.
The ground has on its clothes. The trees poke out of sheets and each branch wears the sock of God.
I am, and ever will be, a white-socks, pocket-protector, nerdy engineer - born under the second law of thermodynamics, steeped in steam tables, in love with free-body diagrams, transformed by Laplace, and propelled by compressible flow.
I never wear matching socks. It's kind of a thing that I have!
I love to personalize things. I love to make things my own. I like to name everything - from cars to iPhones to the socks I just lost.
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