A Quote by Elizabeth Jane Howard

I think best in a hot bath, with my head tilted back and my feet up high. — © Elizabeth Jane Howard
I think best in a hot bath, with my head tilted back and my feet up high.
"Do you remember back at the hotel when you promised that if we lived, you’d get dressed up in a nurse’s outfit and give me a sponge bath?" "Actually, I think you misheard," Clary said. "It was Simon who promised you the sponge bath." "As soon as I’m back on my feet, handsome," "I knew we should have left you a rat," said Jace.
They always gives me bath salts," complained Nobby. "And bath soap and bubble bath and herbal bath lumps and tons of bath stuff and I can't think why, 'cos it's not as if I hardly ever has a bath. You'd think they'd take the hint, wouldn't you?
Kewell should have been yanked off the pitch at half time and put in a hot bath, a boiling hot bath.
Ford put a hand to his head. “Back up. Back up!” he cried. “You’re too close.” Heart pounding, I looked at the eight feet between us and pressed into the fridge. “I think he meant for the ghost to back up,” Jenks said dryly.
I can’t help blushing and looking down at my feet. “It was nothing.” “It was literally everything to me.” I look up, putting on my best version of Eight’s teasing smile. “In that case, I think I deserve more than a gross hot dog.” Eight clasps his hands across his chest like I’ve wounded him. “You’re right! I’m a fool to think my life could be traded for a hot dog.” He grabs my hand and gets down on one knee, pressing his forehead to the back of my hand. “My savior, what can I ever do to repay you?
For me, I've always found people who stand up and spritz themselves all over their clothes very odd. I'm a big bath addict, and I get up in the morning, and I have a big bath. But when I get out, and I'm still hot but fresh out of the bath, that's when I apply scent. I just have it on my bare skin; I never apply it to my clothes.
high school guys only appear hot to high school girls. its something to do with the fluorescent lighting in the classrooms, i think. They're actually really skinny and spotty, and they have giant feet
You will find that success in life comes far easier when you maintain a cool head and a warm heart, rather than a hot head and cold feet.
Marriage is like a hot bath; once you get used to it, it ain't so hot.
And now for the vapor-bath: on a framework of three sticks, meeting at the top, they stretch pieces of woolen cloth, taking care to get the joints as perfect as they can, and inside this little tent they put a dish with red-hot stones in it. Then they take some hemp seed, creep into the tent, and throw the seed on to the hot stones. At once it begins to smoke, giving off a vapor unsurpassed by any vapor-bath one could find in Greece. The Sythians enjoy it so much that they howl with pleasure. This is their substitute for an ordinary bath in water, which they never use.
My dad grew up with straight-up no running water. He slept in a twin bed with his two sisters and his mom, like 'Charlie And The Chocolate Factory' style: like, feet at the head, feet at the head alternating. And then I think his dad slept on, like, a bed of newspapers on a floor in their apartment.
I want you to take a red-hot bath as hot as you can bear it, and just relax your nerves. You can read in the tub if you wish.
I'm a believer, but an unsettled one. I think it has something to do with the fact that my grandmother always told me she would come back and tickle my feet at night time when she passed away. She hasn't gotten me yet. But I keep the blanket over my feet at night, no matter how hot it is.
When feet doesn't want to hold you, you climb with your head. Maybe it isn't the natural order of things, but isn't it better to walk with your head than to think with your feet, as it happens so frequently?
I can't think of any sorrow in the world that a hot bath wouldn't help, just a little bit.
The Queen of Air and Darkness tilted back her head and laughed. A more ghastly sound I hope never to hear. ‘Do you think I care about these trifles?’ ‘Murder is no trifle, woman,’ Arthur said. ‘No? How many men have you killed, Great King? How many have you slain without cause? How many did you cut down that you might have spared? How many died because you in your battle-rage would not heed their pleas for mercy?’ The High King opened his mouth to speak, but could make no answer.
This site uses cookies to ensure you get the best experience. More info...
Got it!