A Quote by Ivana Trump

I have good legs, and why to hide them? — © Ivana Trump
I have good legs, and why to hide them?
I spent the whole first year of my career just on my legs. If you have good legs under you, then you can punch. Anybody can stand and throw their hands and look like an idiot. If you actually want to learn how to punch, you have to work on being balanced on your legs and feeling your legs under you. Feel the ground.
Yes, I mean, I used to be into the big bulk thing, and that's why my legs look like those of a cyclist instead of a shooter's, but I think there is a point to where too much is not a good thing. I think I try to lower my center of gravity by doing a lot of legs.
My parents always say I have really good legs. Ive worked really hard for them. They always insist that I show my legs.
My parents always say I have really good legs. I've worked really hard for them. They always insist that I show my legs.
People who worry about looking good typically hide what they don't know and hide their weaknesses, so they never learn how to properly deal with them and these weaknesses remain impediments in the future.
Yes, but knee pants are so much more flattering. You can see my legs." You want people to see your legs?" I have very nice legs!" We both paused to admire them for a moment.
I wear my prosthetics legs every day, and when I train in the gym, I call them my Lamborghini, because both legs and sockets, which extend up to my hips to keep the legs on via a suction seal, cost about $305,815.
The thing about legs is you're born with them. Anybody can go out and buy boobs. But you're either blessed with attractive legs or you're not. That's what makes them so sexy.
Hiding here, are you? That’s awkward.” “Why?” “Because I had intended to hide here myself.” “You may hide here with me, if you wish.
Why are we so terrified of a natural process that allows for life to be brought into this world? Why do we scramble to hide our tampons when we pull them out of our purses?
You get born and you try this and you don't know why, only you keep on trying it and you are born at the same time with a lot of other people, all mixed up with them, like trying to, having to, move your arms and legs with strings, only the same strings are hitched to all the other arms and legs and the others all trying and they don't know why either except that the strings are all in one another's way.
I want to be a Bond girl. Think about it - I have metal components in my legs, so when I go through airport security, I set off the alarms. But when they realize why I'm beeping, they let me through. What if I had weapons in my legs? I could take one off and pull out an Uzi! Legs Galore - that would be me!
I submit my tongue as an instrument of righteousness when I make it bless them that curse me and pray for them who persecute me, even though it "automatically" tends to strike and wound those who have wounded me. I submit my legs to God as instruments of righteousness when I engage them in physical labor as service, perhaps carrying a burden the "second mile" for someone whom I would rather let my legs kick. I submit my body to righteousness when I do my good deeds without letting them be known, though my whole frame cries out to strut and crow.
Why? Why do humans always look to the sky? Why do you try so hard to fly when you don't have any wings? We'll run on our own legs.
Four legs good, two legs bad.
Whenever I go to New York or any European country, they say: 'Nawal, why don't you get a facelift?' I tell them, 'I am proud of my wrinkles. Every wrinkle on my face tells the story of my life. Why should I hide my age?'
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