She threw back her head with a laugh that made her chins ripple like little waves.
One of my brothers used to tell me all the time, "Listen, nobody is going to discover you in the living room." It's about being interactive in life and participating in your own life. Once you get a grasp on that, you understand. "OK, I can take a couple of knocks. They can hit me on the chin, and I can get up." That's what it's about. It's not about not getting knocked down but getting up. Making sure that you keep pursuing whatever that passion is. For me, that passion is entertainment.
I think what all actors share is that, somewhere down in your solar plexus, there's this fear that you're not going to be able to come up with the goods, that this is the one movie where you're going to look like a fool, and they should have cast someone else. And you feel ugly, and you've got three chins, and you've gained too much weight, and you're losing your hair, and there are so many better actors who could do this. But if you've got chops, what you realize is that everybody feels that way, so just show up and do the job.
The first thing my agent told me in 1959 was he said you have to have something recognizable that people will remember. “What are you? Do you have cleft in your chin? You have a Jimmy Stewart kind of talk?” And I thought I don’t know what I can give them that will be different.
I'm a high school teacher. I'm someone who stumbles my way through, leads with my chin in some cases, leads with my heart in all cases.
Just look at the back of Donald Trump's head, any angle. There's some angles that his chin is just, what do I mean? I mean he's sculpted out of some kind of pudding, I think. It looks like his face is sort of melting slowly. I should talk because my face is melting quickly. He's some kind of bizarre sculpture. There's no one really who looks like that.
I always thought my jaw line was manly. I have this pockmark on my chin from when I was 9. I used to get freaked out about it because people thought it was a pimple. But those are the things I've become really comfortable with as I've gotten older. My scars.
The covetous man pines in plenty, like Tantalus up to the chin in water, and yet thirsty.
When I used to do the action scenes, I would have to play it rough. If you hit an actress accidentally, she would usually take it on the chin and say, `Don't do that again.' But with the guys, they would put ice on it, take a 20-minute break and ask for x-rays. It was unbelievable.
The area between the nose and the chin, the subject of kissing and the vehicle for speech, is perhaps even more known and set upon than the eyes. The mouth is also riddled with a complex interweaving of folds, curves, flats and lost-and-found edges. These nuances are needed by a perceptive person who might try to understand human nature.
When you're up against a trouble, meet it squarely, face to face. Lift your chin and set your shoulders, plant your feet and take a brace. When it's vain to try to dodge it, do the best that you can do. You may fail, but you may conquer. See it through!
My day-old son is plenty scrawny, his mouth is wide with screams, or yawny; His ears seem larger than he's needing, His nose is flat, his chin's receding. His skin is very, very red, He has no hair upon his head, And yet I'm proud as proud can be, To hear you say he looks like me.
I just hope when my body goes, or when my mind does, I have the guts to end it the way Hemingway did. I don't want anybody wiping drool off my chin.
It's not easy, though, singing upside down in a headstand on a raised platform with your unfettered breasts hitting you in the chin.
My top priority in life is my workout. Regardless of what happens, I hit that gym. Even when I was in the hospital twice with serious knee operations: Right after I came out of anesthesia, there was a chin bar over my head and dumbbells. I worked out immediately.
I don't think it is worth explaining how a character's nose or chin looks. It is my feeling that readers will prefer to construct, little by little, their own characterthe author will do well to entrust the reader with this part of the work.
O my brother Futurists ! All of you, look at yourselves! In the name of that Human Pride we so adore, I proclaim that the hour is nigh when men with broad temples and steel chins will give birth magnificently, with a single trust of their bulging will, to giants with flawless gestures.
We... joked a little about presidential portraits. He [Bill Clinton] told me that he and Harrison Ford had been joking recently about how chins drop with age, and he didn't want to look that way.
I did take the blows [of life], but I took them with my chin up, in dignity, because I so profoundly love and respect humanity.
Fight each round take it on the chin. And never never never ever give in.
In any case, the bayonet isn't as important as it used to be. It's more usual now to go into the attack with hand-grenades and your entrenching tool. The sharpened spade is a lighter and more versatile weapon - not only can you get a man under the chin, but more to the point, you can strike a blow with a lot more force behind it. That's especially true if you can bring it down diagonally between the neck and the shoulder, because then you can split down as far as the chest. When you put a bayonet in, it can stick, and you have to give the other man a hefty kick in the guts to get it out.
What I have always loved most in men is imperfection. I get moved by the wrinkles on the throat of a man. It makes me love him more. I think it is sad that more women don't take the chance that maybe men will be moved by seeing the chin a little less firm than it used to be, that a man will be more in love with his wife because he remembers who she was and sees who she is and thinks, God, isn't that lovely that this happened to her. And be moved by life telling its story there.
Chin up, shoulders back. Let ‘em know you’re here. #ProudOfWhoYouAre
I don’t mind getting smacked on the chin. I just don’t want to get nibbled to death. There’s a difference.
I write in praise of the solitary act: of not feeling a trespassing tongue forced into one's mouth, one's breath smothered, nipples crushed against the ribcage, and that metallic tingling in the chin set off by a certain odd nerve: unpleasure.
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