People who count their chickens before they are hatched act very wisely because chickens run about so absurdly that it's impossible to count them accurately.
Do not count your chickens before they are hatched.
If you count your chickens before theyve hatched, they wont lay an egg.
I count absolutely no chickens before they're hatched. In fact, I assume they're all dead in their shells, inside their eggs.
I've never counted my chickens before they've hatched.
The plan of "counting the chickens before they are hatched" is an error of ancient date, but it does not seem to improve by age.
Don't count your chickens before they egg.
Sometimes people count their chickens before they hatch.
Never count your chickens before you can stick a fork into them.
You'd think a guy who has broken 35 bones in his body would have a high pain threshold, but mine is pretty low. I got hit in the shin with a golf ball once and it almost brought tears to my eyes. I've had broken bones that didn't hurt as bad.
You'd think a guy who has broken 35 bones in his body would have a high pain threshold, but mine is pretty low. I got hit in the shin with a golf ball once, and it almost brought tears to my eyes. I've had broken bones that didn't hurt as bad.
I've fractured my skull twice, damaged a kidney, snapped a cruciate ligament in my knee, and broken all manner of bones, including my jaw. And I count myself very lucky it hasn't been worse!
I was just happy the fight was over, I knew my arm was broken in the fight. I definitely wasn't going to quit - I've broken bones before and continued fighting but there was a part of me wondering how I was going to.....what strategy I was going to use, to win this fight with a broken left arm in the second and third rounds
Don't count your boobies until they are hatched.
The last 10 years I have had to bulk up for roles and I'm naturally skinny, so I have eaten and killed so many chickens! I wouldn't even want to count. I need to balance that out.
For most of my life, I believed that my father had broken many of my bones. They were emotional and psychological bones; things no one could see, things that caused me to limp through life clutching for and holding on to people and situations that often rendered me immobile.