A Quote by Martin McGuinness

You could count on the fingers of one hand the number of people in the north who said to me, 'When did you leave the IRA?' — © Martin McGuinness
You could count on the fingers of one hand the number of people in the north who said to me, 'When did you leave the IRA?'
When I went to the all-Ireland final - Kerry against Dublin - I couldn't get away for an hour and a half with people coming up and wishing me all the best. Not one of them said, 'Martin, when did you leave the IRA?' But every one of them knew I was in the IRA at one stage.
I symbolized doping... My phone rarely rings. I can count on the fingers of one hand the number of riders who call me.
People who don't like you almost never come up to you. That's a lot of years of saying things that I know a lot of people in this country hate me for. And the number of times someone has come up to me and said something negative, I could count on one hand.
I can count on one hand and maybe a couple of fingers on another the number of players I'll keep in touch with after my playing career is over.
I can't count the number of people I've talked to over the course of my career who have said to me that the thing that they most regret is the one time they did something just for the money.
I think that I can count on the fingers of one hand the times you've actually said the word ‘women' and not replaced it with an epithet referring to female genitalia." "Hey, he's not that bad," Warren said. "Sometimes he calls them cows or whores.
Listen, you. Don't threaten me. I could make your life a nightmare. He put his hand in front of her face and unfolded three fingers as he said, I'm F-B-I. She smiled. It wasn't the reaction he expected. You want to talk nightmares? she said. She put her hand up to his face and unfolded her three fingers. I'm I-R-S.
I haven't got enough fingers to count the number of clubs who rejected me.
I can count the number of great Cabernets I made at Beaulieu only by taking off my socks and shoes, but I can count the number of great Pinot Noirs on one hand with change left over.
I can count on one hand the number of people who wrote me a thank you letter after having an interview, and I gave almost all of them a job.
I can count on one hand the people I could call and who would be there for me.
She could've looked at the tiny miracles in front of her: my feet, my hands, my fingers, the shape of my shoulders beneath my jacket, my human body, but she only stared at my eyes. The wind whipped again, through the trees, but it had no force, no power over me. The cold bit at my fingers, but they stayed fingers. "Grace," I said, very softly. "Say something." "Sam," she said, and I crushed her to me.
First shalt thou take out the Holy Pin. Then shalt thou count to three, no more-no less. Three shall be the number thou shalt count, and the number of the counting shall be three. Four shalt thou not count, neither count thou two, excepting that thou then proceed to three. Five is right out. Once the number three, being the third number, be reached, then lobbest thou thy Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch towards thy foe, who, being naughty in my sight, shall snuff it.
If you shake my hand, better count your fingers
Across from me at the next row of supports Jim raised his hand and touched his fingers to his thumb a few times, imitating an opening and closing beak. Negotiate. He wanted me to engage a lunatic who had already turned four people into smoking meat. Okay. I could do that. “Alright, Jeremy!” I yelled into the night. “Give me the salamander and I won’t cut your head off!” Jim put his hand over his face and did some shaking. I thought he was laughing, but I couldn’t be sure.
I will never leave him. It will be this, always, for as long as he will let me. If I had had words to speak such a thing, I would have. But there were none that seemed big enough for it, to hold that swelling truth. As if he had heard me, he reached for my hand. I did not need to look; his fingers were etched into my memory, slender and petal-veined, strong and quick and never wrong. “Patroclus,” he said. He was always better with words than I.
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