A Quote by Anthony Foley

I always try to remember that praise and a slap on your back is only 6 inches away from a kick up the arse! — © Anthony Foley
I always try to remember that praise and a slap on your back is only 6 inches away from a kick up the arse!
Always remember this: There are only eighteen inches between a pat on the back and a kick in the rump.
Just remember that a pat on the back is only 18 inches from a kick in the behind.
A pat on the back is six inches away from a kick up the ass.
I've always wanted to kick a duck up the arse
In a close-up, the audience is only inches away, and your face becomes the stage.
The close-up says everything, it's then that an actor's learned, rehearsed behavior becomes most obvious to an audience and chips away, unconsciously, at its experience of reality. In a close-up, the audience is only inches away, and your face becomes the stage.
I teach students that what people say about failure in politics is mostly wrong. People always told me, 'They'll praise you on your way up and kick you on your way down.' That wasn't my experience. I can't walk down the street in Toronto without someone coming up and saying hello.
You're one kick away from being Public Enemy No. 1. You're always one kick away from trending on Twitter as the No. 1 loser in America.
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.
When someone sticks a knife six inches into your back, and then pulls it out two inches and claims he's doing you a favor, don't believe him.
Always, my mother said, "Be yourself." That is sometimes the hardest thing to do. I try to always remember that and come back to that and have strength in who you are. There is only one you.
You try to sit down at approximately the same time every day. This is how you train your unconscious to kick in for you creatively. ... You put a piece of paper in the typewriter, or you turn on your computer and bring up the right file. ... You begin rocking, just a little at first, and then like a huge autistic child. ... Then your mental illnesses arrive at the desk like your sickest, most secretive relatives. And they pull up chairs in a semicircle around the computer, and they try to be quiet but you know they are there with their weird coppery breath, leering at you behind your back.
I'm the one who steps from the shadows, all trenchcoat and cigarette and arrogance, ready to deal with the madness. Oh, I've got it all sewn up. I can save you. If it takes the last drop of your blood, I'll drive your demons away. I'll kick them in the bollocks and spit on them when they're down and then I'll be gone back into darkness, leaving only a nod and a wink and a wisecrack. I walk my path alone... who would walk with me?
Celebrate your child's achievement, then rotate it when the next mini-masterpiece comes along. Then chuck the old picture. Don't worry that you're throwing away a memory. Your children will remember your praise more than they will remember the picture with macaroni and glitter glued on it.
I know it's not easy for you, living this life, but try to remember, always try to remember, you're not the only one with troubles.
Because I was an only, I had more things, and I remember early on the kick I got from giving stuff away. Despite all the myths about only children not being able to share, actually I've never knowingly met a stingy one.
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