Thighs Quotes - Page 8

Young girls are obsessed with having a thigh gap. I blame the impossible body standards set by Spongebob.

Stephen Colbert

Girl, Standards Set, Perfect

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I don't have great thighs. I have very big breasts and a soft, fatty little tummy. And I've got back fat. People assume that I'm walking around in little spaghetti-strap dresses. It's insidious - Glam Jamie, the Perfect Jamie, the great figure, blah, blah, blah. And I don't want the unsuspecting 40-year-old women of the world to think that I've got it going on. It's such a fraud. And I'm the one perpetuating it.

Jamie Lee Curtis

Thinking, Years, People

" Is this a feminist statement?" by Muriel Gray, www.theguardian.com. August 21, 2002.

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Music really influenced me when I was growing up. I did go through a Jimi Hendrix phase. My hair was naturally quite afro, and I wore low-slung jeans with very high heels. Siouxsie and the Banshees had a lot to answer for. I was in a top hat with peacock feathers and thigh-high black boots. I was 17 -- old enough to know better.

Helen McCrory

Growing Up, Hair, High Heels

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When I think about my Glamazon, would that character get down if someone said her thighs were heavy? No, she knows what other people think is none of her damn business.

RuPaul

Character, Thinking, People

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My father slapped my thighs with a variety of meats until I began to cry and sulked in the corner. I later became a musician

Thom Yorke

Father, Musician, Meat

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I limbered up just a little before entering the stadium, and even so I felt a twinge in my thigh, no doubt the fruit of my imagination. And I went back to the massage room so that my faithful Morizot could take the trouble off my muscles. This soothed me considerably and I thought I was back to a normal state until somebody summoned me to the starting line. It was like feeling a blade go through my flesh.

Jules Ladoumegue

Running, Imagination, Feelings

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One really ought to be afraid of self-torture. But it tempted me. It begged. The dark place that my mind was fast becoming blends, in my memory, with the dark womb of church: the chant, the fugue of prayer, the strange erotic energy that carving a very small cross into my thigh with a nail had brought.

Marya Hornbacher

Prayer, Memories, Dark

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Once I slapped a rapper with mace,
Then I spit acid in his face, after he rinsed his eyes, no wait...
I actually grew five times my size, grabbed Ma$e by the thigh and slapped a rapper with him.

Pharoahe Monch

Rap, Eye, Hip Hop

Song: Rapid Eye Movement, 2014

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Show me thy feet, show me thy legs, thy thighs
Show me those fleshy principalities;
Show me that hill where smiling love doth sit,
Having a living fountain under it;
Show me thy waist, then let me there withal,
By the ascension of thy lawn, see all.

Robert Herrick

Sexy, Feet, Legs

Robert Herrick (1898). “The Hesperides & Noble Numbers”

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In order to dance well, nothing is so important as the turning outwards of the thigh; and nothing is so natural to men as the contrary position.

Jean-Georges Noverre

Men, Order, Ballet

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I was ready in 2008 for the Olympic Games but unfortunately I missed the Kenyan trials with a thigh injury. I watched those Olympics but it was tough to watch. But it was good in the end because a Kenyan, Wilfred Bungei, was the champion.

David Rudisha

Games, Champion, Watches

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Hunting Bears is a complex song. A bear, as you know is another term for a chubby chaser. The guitar line is actually the sound of a fat man's thighs rubbing together as he approaches another lardy male for a night of sexual deviance.

Thom Yorke

Song, Night, Men

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I am a trembling mess from hip to knee. There is a terrible heat, a looseness in my innards that makes me want to dig my fists between my thighs. It is a confusing feeling - somewhere between diarrhoea and sex - this grief that is almost genital.

Anne Enright

Sex, Grief, Feelings

Anne Enright (2010). “The Gathering”, p.7, Random House

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It is not a bad thing to settle for the Little Way, not the big search for the big happiness but the sad little happiness of drinks and kisses, a good little car and a warm deep thigh.

Walker Percy

Kissing, Car, Littles

Walker Percy (1988). “The moviegoer”

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The feel of a canoe gunnel at the thigh, the splash of flying spray in the face, the rhythm of the snowshoe trail, the beckoning of far-off hills and valleys, the majesty of the tempest, the calm and silent presence of the trees that seem to muse and ponder in their silence; the trust and confidence of small living creatures, the company of simple men; these have been my inspiration and my guide. Without them I am nothing.

Grey Owl

Inspiration, Men, Simple

Grey Owl (2010). “Pilgrims of the Wild”, p.28, Dundurn

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First, a few words about this title. It isn't easy, coming up with book titles. A lot of the really good ones are taken. Thin Thighs in 30 Days, for example. Also The Bible.

Dave Barry

Funny, Book, Taken

Dave Barry (2009). “Dave Barry Is from Mars and Venus”, p.11, Ballantine Books

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Some logics get nervous breakdowns. Overloaded phone system behaves like frightened child. Mike did not have upsets, acquired sense of humor instead. Low one. If he were a man, you wouldn't dare stoop over. His idea of thigh-slapper would be to dump you out of bed — or put itch powder in pressure suit.

Robert A. Heinlein

Children, Men, Phones

Robert A Heinlein (1966). “Moon Is Harsh Mistres”, Berkley

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I’m going to lie this one right on the line, right here, right now: I’m pro big pants. Strident feminism NEEDS big pants. Really big. I’m currently wearing a pair that could have been used as a fire blanket to put out the Great Fire of London at any point during the first 48 hours or so. They extend from the top of my thigh to my belly button, and effectively double up as a second property that I can escape to at weekends. If I were going to run for parliament, it would be solely on a platform of ‘Get Women In Massive Grundie’s’.

Caitlin Moran

Running, Lying, Weekend

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Nothing in the world is so soft and pleasing to the touch, as the skin of a woman's thigh. No flower, feather or fabric, can match that velvet whisper of flesh. No matter how unequal they may be in any other ways, all women, old and young, fat and thin, beautiful and ugly, have that perfection. It's a great part of the reason why men hunger to possess women, and so often convince themselves that they do possess them: the thigh, that touch.

Gregory David Roberts

Beautiful, Flower, Men

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She lay on her back and walked her fingers down her ribs, skipped them over her abdomen, and landed on her pelvic bones. She tapped them with her Knuckles. [. . .] I can hear my bones, she thought. Her fingers moved up from her pelvic bones to her waist. The elastic of her underpants barely touched the center of her abdomen. The bridge is almost finished, she thought. The elastic hung loosely around each thigh. More progress. She put her knees together and raised them in the air. No matter how tightly she pressed them together, her thighs did not touch.

Steven Levenkron

Air, Bridges, Progress

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He gave a dark chuckle. “But you’re not, so you had absolutely no qualms about kneeing me in the groin, right?” “I hit your thigh!” “Oh, please. A man doesn’t need that long to recover from a knee to the thigh,” he replied, his voice full of skepticism.

Kiera Cass

Dark, Men, Voice

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This time of year, I live and breathe the beach. My cheeks feel raw with the wind throwing sand against them. My thighs sting from the friction of the saddle. My arms ache from holding up two thousand pounds of horse. I have forgotten what it is like to be warm and what a full night’s sleep feels like and what my name sounds like spoken instead of shouted across yards of sand. I am so, so alive.

Maggie Stiefvater

Beach, Horse, Sleep

Maggie Stiefvater (2011). “The Scorpio Races (Sneak Peek)”, p.4, Scholastic Inc.

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A man touched me: his hand... my thigh. I touched him too: my fist... his jaw.

Joseph Gordon-Levitt

Men, Hands, Fists

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….he grabs my wrists and pins my arms up above my head, locking them in one hand. "Are you mine?" he asks gruffly, as his hand returns between my thighs and briefly enters me. I gasp. Undone. Delirious. "I'm yours." His expression is tense, ravenous, so hot as he scrapes his finger deep into my channel. "Do you want me inside you?" My need clogs my windpipe as pleasure shoots down my legs. "I want you everywhere. All over me. Inside me.

Katy Evans

Expression, Hands, Legs

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His eyes glow in the shadows as he slides the soft liquid semen dripping down my thigh in a path leading back into my swollen entry, as if he doesn't want to come out of my body. "Sticky?" he asks in a gruff murmur, bending his head and licking my shoulder as he pushes his semen back inside with one finger.

Katy Evans

Eye, Shadow, Licking

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