A Quote by Albert Pujols

I don't want to be too stiff, because then my hands won't be as quick. — © Albert Pujols
I don't want to be too stiff, because then my hands won't be as quick.
I don't want to get good at throwing off schedule because I don't want to be off schedule. I want to have my protections to be solid, I want to be in the right play, and I want to get the ball out of my hands as quick as possible.
For some reason as a kid being a smart athlete didn't seem like the right thing, because you didn't fit in. You didn't want to be too smart because you'd be a nerd. But then you didn't want to be too dumb either because then you didn't get the grades you needed to play.
You who are on the inside, don't condemn my lack of faith too quickly; you who are on the outside, don't be too quick to mock my overcredulity; you who are indifferent, don't be too quick to wax ironic about my perpetual hesitations.
If the body is stiff that is understandable. But if the mind is also stiff then you can’t get anywhere. The mind has to become flexible.
And there has to be a level of gratitude and a little bit of pride. But I want that pride to be quick so that I don't soak in it too much. Because I've met a lot of jerks in this business. And I don't want to be one.
I'm coming out of a long term marriage and I don't want to jump into anything too serious or too much, too quick.
One thing about other people, when they come to the gym, they might waste time wrapping hands, doing stretching and things. I don't like that. If I come to the gym, if one hour - all work. If two hours - all. I don't want to do this stuff so I can stay like two hours in the gym training only one hour. I want to do my own - quick, quick.
I saw a star slide down the sky Blinding the north as it went by Too buring and too quick to hold Too lovely to be bought or sold Good only to make wishes on And then forever to be gone
If you see someone in the kitchen that has good hands and a quick brain, then you need that person to be in the front of everything.
Perhaps it's because a writer lives in Brooklyn that he'd want to get away from it. It can be very sustaining, this community of writers - sometimes it's the feeling of many hands giving you a boost. But all that identical ambition can be choking, too. The many hands slide up to your throat.
Any security issues, you have to be very hands on to really understand what's the exact problem, and then take quick action.
If people turn to look at you on the street, you are not well dressed, but either too stiff, too tight, or too fashionable.
No chance. It'd be like cutting off our hands." "Then learn to live without your hands." "No, because then we won't be able to do this," Ben says, giving him the finger [...]
Football is business. It's all about being quick, quick, quick - nobody has any patience nowadays. But then again, that is how things are in normal life, away from football.
Being able to play basketball at a high level, adjusting to the ball in the air, quick feet, quick hands and all that stuff definitely translates to playing tight end in the National Football League.
... He didn't know how to say good-bye. His throat ached from the strain of holding back his emotions. “I don't want to leave you,” he said humbly, reaching for her cold, stiff hands. Emma lowered her head, her tears falling freely. “I'll never see you again, will I?” He shook his head. “Not in this lifetime,” he said hoarsely. She pulled her hands away and wrapped her arms around his neck. He felt her wet lashes brush his cheek. “Then I'll wait a hundred years,” she whispered. “Or a thousand, if I must. Remember that, Nikki. I'll be waiting for you to come to me.
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