A Quote by Paul Rust

I remember doing this little physical gesture of holding up my foot and having my foot wave around while I held my ankle. It got a big laugh, and when people started laughing, it dumped some chemicals on my brain. It just felt so good.
There's a risk to everything you do. You can take off on a one-foot wave and get hurt; you can take off on a ten-foot wave and get hurt. You just don't think about it at all. You just go for it. When you kick out of a really big wave, it feels pretty damn good. You want to do it again.
I just started playing around different clubs, and I got a good reputation around New York City of having good timing, a good right foot, and I was "funky", "soulful", and all that stuff. Then I ran into this group, the Pigeons.
I often need physical gesture to balance dialogue. If I write in public, every time I need to know what a character is doing with his hand or foot, I can look up and study people and find compelling gestures that I can harvest. Writing in public gives you that access to a junkyard of details all around you.
I'd got married and wanted to have kids, so had kids, brought them up, did other things, and slowly got back into music. And it feels great, having one foot in the present, writing and covering interesting songs, and having one foot in the past.
When I left WWE, I had surgery on my foot. I had drop foot, where my foot was totally paralyzed. I had a tendon transfer and got nine screws in my foot.
The good thing about being in advertising was a lot of the skills cross over: you have to be accountable for your jokes; you have to tell a story quickly. It's the most expensive filmmaking foot-for-foot in the world, so it does teach you how to use all of the machines and how to think of things in terms of the physical process of capturing the images. And you have to sell your work. You have to walk into whatever it is and stand up in the middle of a conference room with a storyboard in your hand and make people laugh.
In third grade, I had to an oral report on the state of Oregon. I brought up Big Foot sightings, and I remember there was an argument about whether or not Big Foot was valid history. Ever since then I've been thinking about how subjective history is.
It was the force of the ball. It made my foot bone and ankle come together and cracked. I thought I had just twisted my ankle, but it was a clear fracture.
My 10th grade year I was 6-foot-4 and I grew to like 6-foot-7, but I still had my guard skills. I was playing point guard, I was a big guard. People started calling me 'Penny Hardaway' - comparing me to him because I was a big guard.
Acting in general you just feel kind of stupid doing it anyway, but when you're pretending to be rolling around and dodging a foot or riding an ant, you're having to really do it seriously and there's nothing there. You've got to put faith in the process.
When I was little, I used to watch Disney movies all the time, and it drove me crazy that Cinderella's tights wouldn't gather at her ankle when her foot bent, so I kept trying to make sure that I didn't get those little creases on my ankle because Cinderella didn't have them.
James started to laugh. His chin hurt where she'd smacked him twice, his foot throbbed where she'd stepped on it, and his entire body felt as if he'd swum through a rosebush, which wasn't as far off the truth as it sounded. Yet still he started to laugh.
I remember asking myself one night, while I was curled up in the same old corner of my same old couch in tears yet again over the same old repetition of sorrowful thoughts, 'Is there ANYTHING about this scene you can change, Liz?' And all I could think to do was stand up, whle still sobbing, and try to balance on one foot in the middle of the living room. Just to prove that - while I couldn't stop the tears or change my dismal interior dialogue - I was not yet totally out of control: at least I could cry hysterically while balanced on one foot.
The human foot has bones and muscles and can balance back and forth. If you step and you maybe make a little mistake, your foot can compensate. But if I step in the wrong spot, my foot isn't going to compensate because it's just one piece of carbon fiber.
This big part flies off on the floor. The other part goes like this and lands in my foot! Standing up! It's standing in my foot! Right in the side of my foot. The flute glass. I think I'm like in one of my own pictures.
Anne Lamott’s priest friend Tom, how to get through: "Left foot, right foot, left foot, breathe," he said. "Right foot, left foot, right foot, breathe." Salon April 25, 2003
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