Words cut through my skin, tears roll down my chin
There is nothing like competition. It teaches you early in life to win and lose, and, when you lose, to put your chin out instead of dropping it.
If I have to draw attention away from some hormone-induced acne on my chin, I put on a lot of mascara.
Peitaho Heavy rains fall on Yuyen, the northland kingdom of swallows. White pages of rain envelop the sky, and fishing boats off the Island of the Emperor Chin disappear on the ocean. Which way have they gone? More than a thousand years ago the mighty emperor Tsao Tsao cracked his whip and drove his army against the Tartars. He left us a poem: "Let us move east to the Stone Mountains." Today we still shiver in the autumn gale, in desolate winds, yet another man is in the world.
Ho, pretty page, with the dimpled chin That never has known the barber's shear, All your wish is woman to win, This is the way that boys begin. Wait till you come to Forty Year.
A half century of living should put a good deal into a person's face besides a few wrinkles and some unwelcome folds around the chin.
And that is ... how they are. So terribly physically all over one another. They pour themselves one over the other like so much melted butter over parsnips. They catch each other under the chin, with a tender caress of the hand, and they smile with sunny melting tenderness into each other's face.
I like dogs better than knights. A hound will die for you, but never lie to you. And he'll look you straight in the face. He cupped her under the jaw, raising her chin, his fingers pinchingher painfully. And that's more than little birds can do, isn't it? I never got my song.
Vinyl, CDs or laptops, it doesn't matter - you should use whatever you're comfortable with. If you're on the dancefloor and there's good music coming out of the speakers, that should be enough. If you're standing there storing your chin going: 'This would sound better if it was on vinyl', yes it might do, but at the end of the day, people want to go to a party.
Deep, dark unearthly black. I hadn't told anyone yet, but the color kept streaking across my mind at the oddest moments. When it did, my skin shivered pleasantly, and it was as if I could feel the color tracing a finger tenderly along my jaw, tipping my chin up to face it directly. I knew it was absurd to think a color would come to life, but once or twice, I was sure I'd caught a flash of something more substantial behind the color. A pair of eyes. The way they studied me cut to the heart.
I like tattoos. I'm gonna be covered. I'm not going to touch my face or under the chin on the neck: it's my least favorite place.
Fernando Vargas may have had a 6-pack in his stomach, but he didn't have a six-pack on his chin.
To say he has a glass chin is an insult to glass.
There's a whole apparatus for indie bands now, but back in the eighties it was just getting built. The early people really took it on the chin.
I broke my neck, it's a classic neck break from chin to chest. If I had been alone, I would probably be dead.
If I shave, I don't have a chin anymore.
When I was a kid, I had this idea that I would have a beard when I got older. I thought it'd be nice to rub my chin.
So keep your chin up, boy, forget the pain. I know you'll make it, if you try again. There's no use in quitting, when the world is waiting for you.
Whenever I explore the land of Yin, I always take one on the chin.
I feel like actors, having spent a lot of time on movie sets, tend to make decent directors, because they've been there, they know what they're doing, they've seen it done right, they've seen it done wrong, and they feel comfortable. There's not a lot of chin-scratching and wondering what your next move is.
I got a granite chin.
The singular point of beautiful objects, and people, is that they are experienced not as parts, or ratios between cheekbones and chin, but as wholes. The experience of beauty is a perception, but it is one that mixes up various other sensations and makes them converge in a particular way.
Blood trickled down his chin as he was hauled up onto his knees, the golden rope securing his arms behind him and his ankles together. Arthur looked up and saw the fizzing sparkling crown coming down. I’m Arthur Penhaligon, he thought desperately... The crown was wedged tightly upon his head- and Arthur fell silently screaming into darkness.
Roger Fry is painting me. It is too like me at present, but he is confident he will be able to alter that. Post-Impressionism is at present confined to my lower lip... and to my chin.
For some reason, a lot of Hollywood big shots are curious to see how they'd be drawn with bulging eyes and no chin.
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