Hands Quotes
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You're weird," Nick grumbled, but he turned his face back to critically examine the new hand. "You're weird," Jamie returned. "As soon as this whole magical war is over, I'm going to make us some friendship bracelets, and we will wear them everywhere because we are best friends." "Drop dead," said Nick, and Jamie looked serenely pleased.
Sarah Rees Brennan
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I'm sorry about your face." Jamie looked over his shoulder, and touched the demon's mark crawling along his jaw with the back of his hand. "Sorry about saving all our lives by doing something you had to do?" "Oh no," Nick said blandly. "I just meant, you know. Generally.
Sarah Rees Brennan
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I may find Saddam Hussein's regime abhorrent - any normal person would - but the survival of it is in his hands.
Tony Blair
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The problem is no longer that with every pair of hands that comes into the world there comes a hungry stomach. Rather it is that, attached to those hands are sharp elbows.
Paul Samuelson
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What happened to your hand? It got hit by a mirror. How'd that happen? I lost my temper at myself.
Wes Anderson
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I don't know necessarily that I would produce under my own company right now. Producing is not something that I'm thinking about. Directing is something that I will be doing very shortly, trying to figure out what to get my hands on. And I can't imagine writing a script and wanting to direct it and not having a producing credit, because I would want to have a big chunk of power on that end, if I wrote something.
Scarlett Johansson
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Poetry expands the senses and keeps them in prime condition. It keeps you aware of your nose, your eye, your ear, your tongue, your hand.
Ray Bradbury
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The ingredients of happiness are so simple that they can be counted on one hand. Happiness comes from within, and rests most securely on simple goodness and clear conscience.
William B. Ogden
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Alice?” She spun toward the door, her skirts whirling softly. “Yes?” she forced out. “Do you know what I am holding in my hand?” “No.” “Care to guess?” “A pitchfork?” she asked in a stilted attempt at levity, hoping to invoke his earlier, playful mood. “No, my dear,” he answered drily. “A key to your room.” “What?”she breathed, aghast. “I should hate to have to use it.” “You have a key to this room?” “Mm-hmm.” She took a step toward the door, panic rising up in her throat. “You’re bluffing!” “Do you wish me to prove it?
Gaelen Foley
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If the Negro in the ghetto must eternally be fed by the hand that pushes him into the ghetto, he will never become strong enough to get out of the ghetto.
Carter G. Woodson