A Quote by Mary Lasswell

I feel so small I could sit on a dime an' my legs wouldn't even hang over. — © Mary Lasswell
I feel so small I could sit on a dime an' my legs wouldn't even hang over.
With skirts even a mid-calf length, the legs are visible almost to the knee when you sit down. And during the summer, with bathing suits and shorts, they really take over. I think every girl should do all she can to make her legs as attractive as possible.
I work legs, upper body, everything. Legs are very important. I do hang cleans and squats - I do primary exercises. Squats work over 60 percent of your muscle mass in your body. The hang cleans work on my explosive movement, which is essential for success.
When I was 9 or 10, I had a ten-cent business: I would walk your dog for a dime, go to the store for a dime, empty your garbage for a dime - and then I could use the money to buy tricks at the magic store.
Physically it's kind of lassitude, the apathy and tiredness that precedes the flu or some other illness, or death. My legs ache and feel heavy, my skin has become more sensitive to cold and to heat, to the hardness or rigidity of things. Nothing interests me, I feel uncomfortable being still but would feel even more uncomfortable if I moved. I don't know whether speaking is painful or just boring. I sit here, staring straight ahead, with no desires, no needs, hollow. I'm not even sad. I feel only passivity and indifference.
When the last dime is gone, I'll sit on the curb outside with a pencil and a ten cent notebook and start the whole thing over again.
We did envision that some day the phone would be so small that you could hang it on your ear or even have it embedded under your skin.
There were many times my pants were so thin I could sit on a dime and tell if it was heads or tails.
But he could not taste, he could not feel. In the teashop among the tables and the chattering waiters the appalling fear came over him- he could not feel. He could reason; he could read, Dante for example, quite easily…he could add up his bill; his brain was perfect; it must be the fault of the world then- that he could not feel.
Could a mariner sit idle if he heard the drowning cry? Could a doctor sit in comfort and just let his patients die? Could a fireman sit idle, let men burn and give no hand? Can you sit at ease in Zion with the world around you damned?
Woods are not like other spaces. To begin with, they are cubic. Their trees surround you, loom over you, press in from all sides. Woods choke off views & leave you muddled & without bearings. They make you feel small & confused & vulnerable, like a small child lost in a crowd of strange legs. Stand in a desert or prairie & you know you are in a big space. Stand in the woods and you only sense it. They are vast, featureless nowhere. And they are alive.
Even now I will go to, like, an industry event, and all the ladies will be over here and all the guys over here, and I will go to the guys' table and sit because I just feel I can have a much better conversation over there. And that's automatic; it's not prejudice.
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.
Whats the worst that could happen?! The worst that could happen is he could cut off your legs and use them to make stilts that look like legs!
If I was going to fall, I would hang on to my small comforts, at least, for as long as I possibly could.
I think that's what finally stopped me. I slid right to the edge. My legs were hanging over. And I could feel it too. I don't know how. There was no wind, no sound, no change of temperature. There was just this terrible emptiness reaching up for me.
I had never done any sort of yoga before, and this epiphany was a little more esoteric. I walked into the yoga room and there was a voice from my soul that said out loud, This is it! I just knew. I just knew in that moment - I couldn't even straighten my legs. I couldn't sit cross-legged on the floor. I couldn't put my legs up the wall in the most gentle, restorative yoga pose, and yet, I knew.
This site uses cookies to ensure you get the best experience. More info...
Got it!