A Quote by Phil McGraw

You don't need a rope to pinch a stranger's butt. — © Phil McGraw
You don't need a rope to pinch a stranger's butt.
I do have body-image issues, just like everyone else. I mean, I wish I had bigger boobs. And I hate my butt. I want an onion butt - you know, a butt that'll bring tears to your eyes?
I love how I look. My favorite body part is my butt because that's where we get all our power from, and that's what keeps me going up and down the field and drives my explosiveness. I kind of have a bubble butt, but it helps me do what I need to do!
I can't hit a ball more than 200 yards. I have no butt. You need a butt if you're going to hit a golf ball.
One should adpot only those situations in which one is in no need of sham virtues, but rather, like the tight-rope dancer on his tight rope, in which one must either fall or stand--or escape.
The Sikh gave him the money. When Menon asked for his address so that he could repay the man, the Sikh said that Menon owed the debt to any stranger who came to him in need, as long as he lived. The help came from a stranger and was to be repaid to a stranger.
A novel is a commodity that fulfills a certain need; people need to buy daydreams like they need to buy ice cream or aspirin or gin. They even need to buy a pinch of intellectual catnip now and then to liven up their thoughts.
When a miner looks at the rope that is to lower him into the deep mine, he may coolly say, "I have faith in that rope as well made and strong." But when he lays hold of it, and swings down by it into the tremendous chasm, then he is believing on the rope. Then he is trusting himself to the rope. It is not a mere opinion - it is an act. The miner lets go of every thing else, and bears his whole weight on those well braided strands of hemp. Now that is faith.
Prayer pulls the rope below and the great bell rings above in the ears of God. Some scarcely stir the bell, for they pray so languidly. Others give but an occasional pluck at the rope. But he who wins with heaven is the man who grasps the rope boldly and pulls continuously, with all his might.
Are you, are you coming to the tree? Wear a necklace of rope, side by side with me. Strange things did happen here. No stranger would let it be if we met up At midnight in the hanging tree.
Weave me a rope from this dark despair, from this dull-eyed pain... Weave me a rope from this endless night, from this distant shore... Weave me a rope that will pull me through these impossible times.
In Moscow you sit in a huge room at a restaurant; you know no one and no one knows you, and at the same time you don't feel a stranger. But here you know everyone and everyone knows you, and yet you are a stranger - a stranger... A stranger, and lonely...
Man is a rope, tied between beast and overman — a rope over an abyss.
I give people a huge amount of rope, and then I hold them accountable for the rope.
If you are in a deep dark well with no rope to climb, hold on to the hope, because it is also a strong rope!
A man is like a rope: both break at a definite strain....The solution is not splicing the rope; it's lessening the tension.
When I went to school, they told me literature was a rope I must use to climb out of the dark well of unknowing. Writers are the knots on the rope.
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