A Quote by Charlotte Bingham

The awful thing about being fat is you can't get away from it. Everywhere you go, there it is; all round you; hanging and swinging, yards and yards of it, under your arms, everywhere. And everyone else is so thin.
I've been treated there (Camden Yards in Baltimore) just like everywhere else: you got everyone booing for you. I take that as a compliment.
When I'm out there, you just have to react. That's why you work on those throws. When you're in the moment, you can't think to yourself, 'How do I get this to go 47 yards and be 2 yards inside the sideline?'
The fact is football players get beat all the time in the course of a game. But if it happens to a defensive tackle, it's usually 5 or 10 yards. With us, it's 76 yards.
I guess everywhere I go, I get inspired by those places, and then I have a bunch of Voicenotes on my phone. Everywhere I go, I think of these random melodies. It's crazy because everywhere you go, the melodies are totally different.
Some yards is better than none yards?
The good thing about L.A. is that there's always someone more famous 100 yards away from me.
One thing about tourists is that it is very easy to get away from them. Like ants they follow a trail and a few yards each side of that trail there are none.
The collisions happen 40 yards down the field, so if you take off from 5 yards or 10, it does not even matter. Do I make sense? I mean, come on.
You cover 50 yards on the playing field of faith with a story that downplays your success. You cover 3 yards, or you may even end up backward, with anything that up-plays or promotes you.
The more space you have there, the better it is for the quarterback, because he's got room to move around there to avoid a rush. And also, after the point of contact, if the rusher does beat me, he still has to go another four yards before he makes a sack. Versus if you drop straight back, he only has to go two more yards.
The back windows looked out over the fields, then the Atlantic, maybe a hundred yards away. Actually, I'm just making that bit up. I had no idea how far away the sea was. Only men could do things like that. "Half a mile." "Fifty yards." Giving directions, that sort of thing. I could look at a woman and say "Thirty-six C." Or "Let's try it in the next size up." But I had no idea how far away Tim's sea was except that I wouldn't want to walk to it in high heels.
I believe there should be no more drama, but it's everywhere you go. It's just about how you get out. You've gotta bob and weave because it's everywhere. How do I keep the drama low? It's about using your head.
I get booed everywhere I go. If that can take that off my teammates, that's good. Everyone else can just be calm.
Roger stooped, picked up a stone, aimed and threw it at Henry-threw it to miss. The stone, that token of preposterous time, bounced five yards to Henry's right and fell in the water. Roger gathered a handful of stones and began to throw them. Yet there was a space round Henry, perhaps six yards in diameter, into which he dare not throw. Here, invisible yet strong, was the taboo of the old life. Round the squatting child was the protection of parents and school and policemen and the law. Roger was conditioned by a civilization that knew nothing of him and was in ruins.
In practice, I think I've thrown it 82 yards, one time. In a game, I don't think I've pushed it that far - probably 60, 65 yards in the air.
This veridic nose arrives everywhere a quarter of an hour before its master. Ten shoemakers, good round fat ones too, go and sit down to work under it out of the rain.
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