A Quote by Homer

How delicate her feet who shuns the ground, Stepping a-tiptoe on the heads of men. — © Homer
How delicate her feet who shuns the ground, Stepping a-tiptoe on the heads of men.
Ruin, eldest daughter of Zeus, she blinds us all, that fatal madness—she with those delicate feet of hers, never touching the earth, gliding over the heads of men to trap us all. She entangles one man, now another.
... where do they go when they die? We hear of the elephant graveyards, where the elephants go to die, but how much more curious it is that birds are not falling out of the sky all the time, on our heads, at our feet, dying and falling and flopping to the ground. I rarely see a dead bird on the ground.
When we too are armed and trained, we can convince men that we have hands, feet, and a heart like yours; and although we may be delicate and soft, some men who are delicate are also strong; and others, coarse and harsh, are cowards. Women have not yet realized this, for if they should decide to do so, they would be able to fight you until death; and to prove that I speak the truth, amongst so many women, I will be the first to act, setting an example for them to follow. —Veronica Franco 1546-1591
Shoes would interfere with her conversation, for she constantly addresses the ground under her feet. Asking forgiveness. Owning, disowning, recanting, recharting a hateful course of events to make sense of her complicity. We all are, I suppose. Trying to invent our version of the story. All human odes are essentially one, "My life; what I stole from history, and how I live with it.
So one day he found her crying Coiled up on the dirty ground Her prince finally came to save her & the rest you can figure out But it was a trick & the clock struck twelve Well make sure to build your home brick by boring brick or the wolf's gonna blow it down Keep your feet on the ground When your head's in the clouds
How can I stand on the ground every day and not feel its power? How can I live my life stepping on this stuff and not wonder at it?
Her honor will come to no harm at my hands,” Jack said. “’Tis not her honor but her tender heart that I worry about,” Alexander said. “She’s a delicate lass,” Hugh added. “Aye,” said Gregor. “A Scottish rose.” “Your tender, delicate rose had me ambushed, knocked unconscious, and forced to wed,” Jack ground out. “Facts you all know, if you’ve spoken to Hamish.” Dougal grinned, his teeth flashing whitely. “She has the devil’s own temper, our Fiona does.
It was so important that women were involved in 'She's Gotta Have It' because it's about a woman's opinion. It's about her views of herself, and the world around her, and how the world perceives her, and finding that ground for herself - not even a common ground, but that ground for herself in which she can walk on firmly with confidence.
What I love about Sade other than her smooth and sultry voice is her willingness to be vulnerable. As a powerful, strong and beautiful woman of color, she showed her delicate, passionate side in a world where most of us are putting on a brave face. I love how effortless her style was and how consistent that red lip was!
Writers are great lovers. They fall in love with other writers. That's how they learn to write. They take on a writer, read everything by him or her, read it over again until they understand how the writer moves, pauses, and sees. That's what being a lover is: stepping out of yourself, stepping into someone else's skin.
Walk with the dreamers, the believers, the courageous, the cheerful, the planners, the doers, the successful people with their heads in the clouds and their feet on the ground. Let their spirit ignite a fire within you to leave this world better than when you found it.
I am just a Flemish girl with her feet on the ground.
Sharp knives seemed to cut her delicate feet, yet she hardly felt them, so deep was the pain in her heart. She could not forget that this was the last night she would ever see the one for whom she had left her home and family, had given up her beautiful voice, and had day by day endured unending torment, of which he knew nothing at all. An eternal night awaited her.
Here are sweet peas, on tiptoe for a flight; With wings of gentle flush o'er delicate white, And taper fingers catching at all things, To bind them all about with tiny rings.
He who shuns the millstone, shuns the meal.
It takes forty men with their feet on the ground to keep one man with his head in the air.
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