A Quote by Gene Tunney

The man who has allowed his body to deteriorate cuts a pitiful figure - chest collapsed, stomach protruding. — © Gene Tunney
The man who has allowed his body to deteriorate cuts a pitiful figure - chest collapsed, stomach protruding.
A rich man's body is like a premium cotton pillow, white and soft and blank. ''Ours'' is different. My father's spine was a knotted rope, the kind that women use in villages to pull water from wells; the clavicle curved around his neck in high relief, like a dog's collar; cuts and nicks and scars, like little whip marks in his flesh, ran down his chest and waist, reaching down below his hip bones into his buttocks. The story of a poor man's life is written on his body, in a sharp pen.
It is God's earth out of which man is taken. From it he has his body. His body belongs to his essential being. Man's body is not his prison, his shell his exterior, but man himself. Man does not "have" a body; he does not "have" a soul; rather he "is" body and soul. Man in the beginning is really his body. He is one. He is his body, as Christ is completely his body, as the Church is the body of Christ
Hair on a man's chest is thought to denote strength. The gorilla is the most powerful of bipeds and has hair on every place on his body except for his chest.
I like that I've been able to maintain a good stomach and chest. Push-ups and sit-ups are my go-to. It is the simplest routine and the best thing to maintain my stomach and chest. I'll do about 100 of each a day, usually when I'm already warmed up.
He slides his hand over my cheek, one finger anchored behind my ear. Then he tilts his head down and kisses me, sending a warm ache through my body. I wrap my hands around his arm, holding him there as long as I can. When he touches me, the hollowed-out feeling in my chest and stomach is not as noticeable.
I am a big man, but I've allowed my condition to deteriorate by being overweight.
If a guy is going to not throw his body at me and he looks like he's just going to sit there with his chest open, I'm going to put my helmet through his chest. That's his fault if he's sore in the morning.
Those deep hazel eyes held his and didn't blink. "You'd be amazed what I would do to keep you alive." Abruptly, V's mouth opened, his breath growing tight. And as the two of them stood chest-to-chest, he knew every inch of his body, felt it all at once.
Assuming that he believes at all, the everyday Christian is a pitiful figure, a man who really cannot count up to three, and who besides, precisely because of his mental incompetence, would not deserve such a punishment as Christianity promises him.
A man of about fifty-four years of age, had begun, five or six months before, to be somewhat emaciated in his whole body...a troublesome vomiting came on, of a fluid which resembl’d water, tinctur’d with soot.... Death took place.... In the stomach...was an ulcerated cancerous tumour.... Betwixt the stomach and the spleen were two glandular bodies, of the bigness of a bean, and in their colour, and substance, not much unlike that tumour which I have describ’d in the stomach.
Love or hatred calls for self-surrender. He cuts a fine figure, the warm-blooded, prosperous man, solidly entrenched in his well-being, who one fine day surrenders all to love—or to hatred; himself, his house, his land, his memories.
If I look in the mirror when I get up or before going to bed at night, I see a man of average ugliness with stubble, an unruly mane of hair, a squint nose, slightly protruding ears, and bags under my eyes. But I also see a man who's completely happy with the figure staring back at him.
The animal tends to eat with his stomach, and the man with his brain. When the animal's stomach is full, he stops eating, but the man is never sure when to stop. When he has eaten as much as his belly can take, he still feels empty, he still feels an urge for further gratification.
All of man's ills are due to his lack of knowing God within him. The perfection of God's universe is founded upon its perfection of Balance. All of man's ills are caused by toxic poisons generated in his body through unbalance affecting his power of control over the functions of his electric body. Man, as an extension of God, is creator of his own electric body. He is master of his electric body to the extent of his knowing the Light of God in him. ... God says to man: »What I do, ye shall do«, but man is unbelieving for long ages.
Oh, man, I was a stick in high school. I had a bird chest; I got called that a lot: 'Bird chest.' But I've always been comfortable with my body, even when I was super skinny.
How do you 'accidentally' kill a noble man in his own mansion?" "With a knife in the chest. Or, rather, a pair of knives in the chest.
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