A Quote by Ron Atkinson

His white boots were on fire against Arsenal, and he'll be looking for them to reproduce tonight. — © Ron Atkinson
His white boots were on fire against Arsenal, and he'll be looking for them to reproduce tonight.
The first pair of boots I remember owning were Puma Spiders - I still have them in a cupboard at home! They were fantastic boots. I was nine-years-old and I scored about 70 goals with them in a season.
Imperialism has now reached a degree of almost scientific perfection. It uses White workers to conquer the non-white workers of The Colonies. Then, it hurls the non-white workers of one colony against those of another non-white colony. Finally, it relies on the Colored workers of the colonies to rule the White workers. Recently, White French soldiers near mutiny in the occupied Ruhr of Germany, were surrounded by French African soldiers, and colored native light-infantry were sent against White German strikers.
Death holds no allure for me, Elena.” The power of him cut against his skin, a cold white fire. “Not when I have yet to sate my hunger for you.
Arsenal showed the door to too many people. Why did they let Thierry Henry go? When I found out about his move I realised the Arsenal I played for were finished.
For whatever reason, I have got a few goals against Arsenal, so I do enjoy playing against them.
Shoes? I have loved them all: '60s pumps; white Courreges ankle boots; platform soles from the first time around, in the '70s; more boots - ankle, calf, and knee-high; 1980s sneakers; pin heels and wedges; Mary Janes and stilettos.
The forties and fifties were years of high poet-incense; the language-flowers were thickly sweet. Those flowers whined and begged white folks to pick them, to find them lovable. Then the '60s: Independent fire!
This whole concept of boots on the ground, we've got a phobia about boots on the ground. If our military experts say, we need boots on the ground, we should put boots on the ground and recognize that there will be boots on the ground and they'll be over here, and they'll be their boots if we don't get out of there now.
The Laws of Nature are just, but terrible. There is no weak mercy in them. Cause and consequence are inseparable and inevitable. The elements have no forbearance. The fire burns, the water drowns, the air consumes, the earth buries. And perhaps it would be well for our race if the punishment of crimes against the Laws of Man were as inevitable as the punishment of crimes against the Laws of Nature -were Man as unerring in his judgments as Nature.
Arsenal is one of the top teams in Europe and I have been looking out for Arsenal since I got my first jersey when I was ten or 12.
If you were a successful upper-middle-class Negro girl in the 1950s and '60s, you were, in practice and imagination, a white Protestant upper middle-class girl. Young, good-looking white women were the most desirable creatures in the world. It was hard not to want to imitate them; it was highly toxic, too, as we would learn.
Bought a pair of boots the other day, and they was some silicone gel in there. Big red letters said, "Do not eat." Do they really need that stuff in them boots? Is there really some dude opening a pair of boots goin', "Boy, look at them boots. What the hell? I better eat that. I don't know what the hell that is."
Back in my time, and I sound old now, it was black and white boots and that was it. Now you've got snoods, people wearing headphones when they are doing interviews, which I find disrespectful, pink boots, green boots, you name it they've got it, tights - they'll be wearing skirts next.
He strips his shirt over his head and I catch my breath, watching those long hard muscles ripple. I know how his shoulders look, bunched, when he's on top of me, how his face gets tight with lust, as he eases inside me. "Who am I?" "Jericho" "Who are you?" He kicks off his boots, steps out of his pants. He's commando tonight. My breath whooshes out of me in a run-on word: "Whogivesafuck?
A man who is seeking for realization is not only going around searching for his spectacles without realizing that they are on his nose all the time, but also were he not actually looking through them he would not be able to see what he is looking for!
Zach,” I said as I lay there “Where did you go? When you were looking for me?” I shifted in his arms, looked into his eyes. “Crazy.” His voice was a whisper against my skin. “I went crazy.
This site uses cookies to ensure you get the best experience. More info...
Got it!