I need them, need them to give me a kick up the arse. Otherwise I'd just be sat-in getting fat, counting me money. It's good people living on your doorstep and looking through your bins. Gives you energy.
I love to compete. I want to get out there and kick your ass in the business world. That is what inspires me.
I had to find a diet that would kick me back into dating shape, because I know that I can't date at size 8. I have to date at size 2. And it's just a fact of nature. Go get your injections and your chemical peels. You gotta look good to attract a man.
In an ideal world, I'd be able to do my shows in my pajamas. Luckily I've got one of the best stylists in the business, Rebecca Allen - she knows what looks good on camera and gives it a sexy kick.
On the night Test faced the Great One, this is what he'll see... twelve sharpshooters stinging, eleven eyebrows raising, ten spines a'bustin, nine noggins knocking, eight kicks a'kicking, seven punches punching, six suplexes smashing, five seconds of the people chanting The Rock's name... four Rock Bottoms, three People's Elbows, on your two buckteeth, and an ass-kicking all over New Orleans!
I get a kick out of Democrats thinking they know how handicap a GOP race.
It’s one of those things where when you’re training and fighting, you can’t worry about your bills, your mortgage, did you get your girlfriend pregnant, your pet’s cancer, or anything. Nothing else matters but that dude trying to kick you in the face or throw you on your head or trying to rip your arm out of the socket. It becomes a singularity of purpose, which an ADD kid like me rarely gets. I like that moment of clarity in fights, and I truly have that. I lose myself in the details of those 15 minutes and you don’t worry about what people think of you.
If religion is a reaction of man, and nothing more, it seems to me that it represents a human desire for wrongdoers to be punished. I hate the idea of Idi Amin living in Saudi Arabia for the last 25 years of his life. That galls me to no end. I feel some sort of need for biblical atonement, or justice, or something. I like to believe there is some comeuppance, that karma kicks in at some point, even if it takes years or decades to happen. My girlfriend says this great thing that’s become my philosophy as well. 'I want to believe there's a heaven. But I can't not believe there's a hell.'
The most valuable lesson man has learned from his dog is to kick a few blades of grass over it and move on.
As a theatrical troupe, the Muppets haven't exactly been AWOL these past dozen years; the gang rocked YouTube in 2009 with their kick-ass rendition of Queen's 'Bohemian Rhapsody.' But they've certainly been lying low while our twitchy, tweet-y times have favored snarkier, more air-quote-driven entertainment, even from puppets. And in a way, that showbiz hiatus has worked in favor of The Muppets. For adults, the movie's gentle, clever, unironic humor feels freshly, trendily retro now, enhanced by laughs provided in cameos from a very up-to-date roster of stars.
Be a football to Time and Chance, the more kicks, the better, so that you inspect the whole game and know its utmost law.
I used to think the only use for sport was to give small boys something else to kick besides me.
I really like sometimes to do action pictures; I get a really big kick out of doing those.
I train my muscles, and I do a lot of stretching, and try to kick higher. But for me, practicing kung-fu is a way to relax myself.
All you did was wreck my bed and in the morning kick me in the head.
You use to drive me wild, but lately you get your kicks from just knocking me down, down, down.
He's halfway sick and halfway stoned. He'd sure like to kick, but he's too far gone. So they wind him down with methadone.
If you've got bad news, you want to kick them blues, cocaine.
Kill them now, cause I need some kicks. I need some kicks, I'm getting bored.
A man will blithely do in politics what he would kick a man downstairs for in ordinary life.
Walk tall, kick ass, learn to speak Arabic, love music and never forget you come from a long line of truth seekers, lovers and warriors.
It's not fear of striking out that makes me reluctant to step up to the plate. It's the fear of getting hit in the head by a 90 mph fastball, the pitcher coming off of the mound to stomp me with her cleats while I am down, the rest of the opposing team rushing out of the dugout hurling insults as they kick me and spit on me, while all along the crowd in the stands is cheering them on and laughing at my failure. So, no, it's not the fear of striking out that keeps me from stepping up to the plate.
When the doctrine of allegiance to party can utterly up-end a man's moral constitution and make a temporary fool of him besides, what excuse are you going to offer for preaching it, teaching it, extending it, perpetuating it? Shall you say, the best good of the country demands allegiance to party? Shall you also say it demands that a man kick his truth and his conscience into the gutter, and become a mouthing lunatic, besides?
I was the kid who always liked to take the ball down to the school even in my free time, kick it against the wall, juggle it in the front yard and so it was kind of a perpetual state of playing soccer for me.
For us to get to those huts and no one's home, it's going to be a kick to the nuts.
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