Bare Feet Quotes

When I was in third grade
the age of many of the boys here
my parents had debated whether or not to buy me a pair of [special soccer shoes] ... Here in Bolivia most of the kids played in bare feet, and they had as much fun as we ever had. Alone, human beings can feel hunger. Alone, we can feel cold. Alone, we can feel pain. To feel poor, however, is something that we do only in comparison to others. I took off my shoes. ~ Eric Greitens

I used to know things no one knew,
Things no one cared to know.
Of bare feet running through the dew,
The taste of every snow. ~ Rebekah

Cindy came up with a glass world with a lone woman - Tori - having to navigate with bare feet. Karen came up with the idea of white. I dug it because if the woman missteps, then there is nowhere to hide all that blood on such a pretty white dress. I found that expression more in the vein of Artemis, if you're looking for an archetype. Artemis - the lone huntress, who finds other women to help her achieve what must be achieved as she tries to protect those creatures that she cares for. ~ Ann Powers

I have the same pet peeve as Anderson Cooper, which is bare feet in public. I hate it. It so grosses me out, especially in New York. Oh my God, New York in the summer with people and their feet in their sandals and their flip-flops, like get it away! ~ Busy Philipps

She saw some boulders she would have wagered had once been toes on a statue, though why anyone would make a statue that large with bare feet she could not imagine, and another time the way led through a forest of thick fluted stones among the trees, the weathered stumps of columns, many toppled and all long since mined almost to the ground for their stone by local farmers. A pleasant ~ Robert Jordan

Spring is the sound of birds chirping, the taste of cherry juice, the feel of grass on bare feet, the sight of pink roses and blue skies, and the feel of dandelion fuzz. Spring, in other words, is a welcome, wondrous sensory overload. ~ Toni Sorenson

No matter how much we try to keep things in order, life seems determined to scatter Legos under our bare feet. ~ Sammy Rhodes

How to Perform Visualization

To practice visualization, sit in a comfortable position and relax any muscle tension. Once you feel relaxed, begin to visualize a pleasant scene. Imagine every aspect of the scene, using all of your senses. For instance, if you visualize sitting on a beach watching the ocean waves lapping against the shore, imagine first what the scene looks like, then imagine how the sand feels on your bare feet. Take a deep breath and imagine how the clean ocean air smells and tastes. Next, listen for the sounds of the waves and seagulls.
As you become more involved with your mental picture, your body will relax and you will be able to let go of your worrisome thoughts. It often helps to make positive, affirmative statements, such as "I feel calm and relaxed," while practicing to block negative thoughts more effectively. You could picture also an image that represents the tension you feel when you begin, such as a kite that is stuck in a tree getting more and more tangled. As you become relaxed, imagine the string loosening and the kite becoming free and soaring in the sky.
With practice, you will be able to use this technique to help yourself relax whenever you feel distressed.

Lori spent last Thanksgiving at her best friend Haley's house. Most of the members of Haley's large, extended family were there. Everyone was talking at once, the children were running around, and Lori felt completely overwhelmed. It was so different fro ~ Heather Moehn

The greatest gift ever given to someone could be simply including them. In the little things. Most minor things. Great things happen all the time and are left unnoticed. The sun shines, rises and sets every day. We aren't thankful enough for it. What makes us truly happy are these little yet prominently noticed things; a smile from someone you like, bare feet walk on the grass at a rainy day, the serenity of the beach, the scent of a flower or a mere acquaintance avoiding the wild plants at a pathway just because you asked. This is the definition of happiness from a simple person. ~ Jazbia S.

The road to Understanding must be walked with bare feet and the path is paved with shards of glass. ~ Robert Palasciano

Yet Frodo began to hear, or to imagine that he heard, something else: like the faint fall of soft bare feet. It was never loud enough, or near enough, for him to feel certain that he heard it; but once it had started it never stopped, while the Company was moving. But it was not an echo, for when they halted it pattered on for a little all by itself, and then grew still. ~ J.R.R. Tolkien

and the goodman beheld this apparition, which had bare feet and a tattered petticoat, running about among the flower-beds distributing life around her. The sound of the watering-pot on the leaves filled Father Mabeuf's soul with ecstasy. It seemed to him that the rhododendron was happy now. ~ Victor Hugo

If flip flops were oppressive, I wouldn't wear any. I'd go around showing of my bare feet of freedom. And I'd tell everyone that freedom causes blisters. ~ Jarod Kintz

I reviewed in thought the modern era of raps and apparitions, beginning with the knockings of 1848, at the hamlet of Hydesville, N.Y., and ending with grotesque phenomena at Cambridge, Mass.; I evoked the anklebones and other anatomical castanets of the Fox sisters (as described by the sages of the University of Buffalo ); the mysteriously uniform type of delicate adolescent in bleak Epworth or Tedworth, radiating the same disturbances as in old Peru; solemn Victorian orgies with roses falling and accordions floating to the strains of sacred music; professional imposters regurgitating moist cheesecloth; Mr. Duncan, a lady medium's dignified husband, who, when asked if he would submit to a search, excused himself on the ground of soiled underwear; old Alfred Russel Wallace, the naive naturalist, refusing to believe that the white form with bare feet and unperforated earlobes before him, at a private pandemonium in Boston, could be prim Miss Cook whom he had just seen asleep, in her curtained corner, all dressed in black, wearing laced-up boots and earrings; two other investigators, small, puny, but reasonably intelligent and active men, closely clinging with arms and legs about Eusapia, a large, plump elderly female reeking of garlic, who still managed to fool them; and the skeptical and embarrassed magician, instructed by charming young Margery's "control" not to get lost in the bathrobe's lining but to follow up the left stocking until he reached the bare thigh - upon the wa ~ Vladimir Nabokov

After Shelly left the bedroom earlier, I'd gone through my stuff, looking for something decent to wear. All I had were jeans and T-shirts, so I picked the least worn of each and pulled them on. Then I put on socks. My momma always said you should meet a guest in shoes, family in socks, and friends in bare feet.

I don't know why she said this, but it stuck with me. ~ Penny Reid

Nineteen eighty is almost here, thank God. the hippies are getting old, they blew their brains on acid and now they're begging on street corners all over San Francisco. Their hair is tangled and their bare feet are thick and gray as shoes. We're sick of them. ~ Jennifer Egan

Like a child, I close my eyes as if they can't see me either. The fire from the kiss broadcasts itself all over me in the form of a full-body blush.
Galen laughs. "There it is," he says, running his thumb over my bottom lip. "That is my favorite color. Wow."
I'm going to kill him. "Galen. Please. Come. With. Me," I coke out. Gliding past him, my bare feet slap against the tile until I'm stomping on carpet in the hallway, then up the stairs.
I can tell by the prickles on my skin that he's following like a good dead fish. As I reach the ladder to the uppermost level, I nod to him to keep following before I hoist myself up. Pacing the room until he gets through the trap door, I count more Mississipis than I've ever counted in my whole life.
He closes the door and locks it shut but makes no move to come closer. Still, for a person who's about to die, he seems more amused than he should. I point my finger at him, but can't decide what to accuse him of first, so I put it back down.
After several moments of this, he breaks the silence. "Emma, calm down."
"Don't tell me what to do, Highness." I dare him with my eyes to call me "boo."
Instead of the apology I'm looking for, his eyes tell me he's considering kissing me again, right now.
Which is meant to distract me. Tearing my gaze from his mouth, I stride to the window seat and move the mountains of pillows on it. Making myself comfortable, I lean my head against the window. He knows as well as ~ Anna Banks

Her bare feet whispered across the floor as she approached him with the sort of stealth that only small children and trained killers possess. ~ Obie Williams

From the elevator, Mabel watched the old woman's bare feet hobbling away, a trail of salt and the lace hem of her nightgown left in her wake like sea foam. ~ Libba Bray

Andrew's bare feet were silent against the carpet, but Neil saw a blur of colors on the fogged-up mirror and turned. Andrew studied his chest with a bored look, but the fingers he pressed to Neil's scars were a heavy and lingering weight. Neil waited to see if he had anything to say, but Andrew hadn't spoken to anyone since they checked out of the hotel in Baltimore. Neil doubted the others had noticed, since Andrew rarely talked to even Kevin or Nicky now that he was sober, but Neil wasn't used to the silent treatment. "Hey," Neil said, just to make Andrew look up at him. Neil leaned in to kiss him, needing to know if Andrew would lean away or push him back. Instead Andrew opened his mouth to Neil without hesitation and slid his hand up Neil's chest to his throat. ~ Nora Sakavic

In the emptiness that was all around me, I noticed an old tennis ball in the plantings; I picked it up and dropped it at Zoë's feet. I didn't know what I was doing, if I had a specific intention. Was I trying to lighten the mood? I don't know, but I felt I had to do something. So there the ball bounced to a stop at her bare feet.
She looked down at the ball but did nothing with it.
Maxwell noticed what I had done, and he noticed Zoë's lack of reaction. He picked up the ball and, with a mighty heave, threw it so far into the woods behind the house that I lost sight of it and could only barely hear it crash through the leaves of bushes on its way back to earth. It was quite an impressive toss, the pale tennis ball sailing through the air against the clear blue sky. What amount of psychic pain was expended on that ball, I had no idea. ~ Garth Stein

Chicken in a basket, the boy could kiss my socks off and I'd thank him for my bare feet being cold. ~ V. Theia

Summer 2010 Marley raced into the beach hut, cheeks flushed, sand clinging to his bare feet. 'We need to make a flag pole for the sand fortress,' he told me breathlessly, salt-mussed hair wild around his face. I rummaged at the back of a cupboard, pulling out a pack of wooden skewers that we used for toasting marshmallows. 'Would one of these ~ Lucy Clarke

O hell, I'm sick of life - If I had any guts I'd drown myself in that tiresome water but that wouldn't be getting it over at all, I can just see the big transformations and plans jellying down there to curse us up in some other wretched suffering form eternities of it - I guess that's what the kid feels - She looks so sad down there wandering Ophelialike in bare feet among thunders. ~ Jack Kerouac

Victoria turned and got her first look at the shower-fresh version of Ford Dixon. Gorgeous as ever; six-foot plus inches of incredibly blue eyes; wet, mussed hair; low-slung jeans; and a T-shirt stretched across his broad, solid chest.
And bare feet.
She heard the tiny cry of a hundred unfertilized eggs as one of her ovaries exploded. ~ Julie James

Where I lived - winter and hard earth.
I sat in my cold stone room
choosing tough words, granite, flint,
to break the ice. My broken heart -
I tried that, but it skimmed,
flat, over the frozen lake.
She came from a long, long way,
but I saw her at last, walking,
my daughter, my girl, across the fields,
In bare feet, bringing all spring's flowers
to her mother's house. I swear
the air softened and warmed as she moved,
the blue sky smiling, none too soon,
with the small shy mouth of a new moon. ~ Carol Ann Duffy

And forget not that the earth delights to feel your bare feet and the winds long to play with your hair ~ Kahlil Gibran

The ghosts of women once girls

Somewhere a little girl is reading aloud
in the middle of a dirt road. she smiles
at the sound of her own voice escaping
the spine of the book. she feeds her hunger
to know herself. She has not yet been taught
to dim, she sits with the stars beneath her feet,
a constellation of things to come.
as if a swallowed moon, she glimmers.
Her head wrap rolls out in a gutter, bare feet
scat the earth, the ghosts of women once girls
make bridge of the dust dancing behind her,
she decorates the ground in dimples
she stomps suffering out the spirit
hooves drumming the earth in circles
she holds gladness in her mouth
like a secret teased out of a giggle
joy like her sadness overflows
she is not the opinions of others
she is of visions and imagination
somewhere a little girl is reading aloud in the middle of a dirt road.
she smiles at the sound of her own voice escaping the spine of the book.
She is a room full
of listening, lending herself
to her own words
somewhere

a deep remembering of what was, she survives all. ~ Aja Monet

I. IN WINTER

Myself
Pale mornings, and
I rise.

Still Morning
Snow air--my fingers curl.

Awakening
New snow, O pine of dawn!

Winter Echo
Thin air! My mind is gone.

The Hunter
Run! In the magpie's shadow.

No Being
I, bent. Thin nights receding.


II. IN SPRING

Spring
I walk out the world's door.

May
Oh, evening in my hair!

Spring Rain
My doorframe smells of leaves.

Song
Why should I stop
for spring?


III. IN SUMMER AND AUTUMN

Sunrise
Pale bees! O whither now?

Fields
I did not pick
a flower.

At Evening
Like leaves my feet passed by.

Cool Nights
At night bare feet on flowers!

Sleep
Like winds my eyelids close.

The Aspen's Song
The summer holds me here.

The Walker
In dream my feet are still.

Blue Mountains
A deer walks that mountain.

God of Roads
I, peregrine of noon.

September
Faint gold! O think not here.

A Lady
She's sun on autumn leaves.

Alone
I saw day's shadow strike.

A Deer
The trees rose in the dawn.

Man in Desert
His feet run as eyes blink.

Desert
The tented autumn, gone!

The End
Yvor Winters

Life ain't like books. Books got somebody writin' 'em and tryin' to entertain ya. Life is more like a set of Legos. Unless you take care of 'em, you lose a few pieces and you end up steppin' on 'em with bare feet. You gotta take care of your life. ~ Laura Moncur

She was thinking of the girls who'd escaped with Pipkin, and hoped that they ran in the grass with bare feet, laughing in the sun. She wanted a promise of joy for someone, even if she could not have it for herself. ~ Christina Henry

(Pastor Chuck) Smith told his elders in no uncertain terms that if the church had to turn away young people because of bare feet and clothes that they would be better off ripping up the carpet and replacing the pews with steel folding chairs. ~ Larry Eskridge

The sky was wide and inviting, and the grass was cool and sweetly refreshing under my bare feet as I walked across the undulating field towards the river. It was a short walk, only a mile or so, but I did not hurry it, letting my soul soak up the glorious sensation of freedom and lightness. ~ Susanna Kearsley

Light spilled from an open door upstairs. Belinda came and sat several stairs above him, her bare feet just visible out of the corner of his eye. He did not turn around. He could not begin to imagine how she must feel towards him. After a few minutes, she got up and retreated. The bedroom door closed again. ~ Isabelle Grey

Proceed, philosophers, teach, enlighten, enkindle, think aloud, speak aloud, run joyously towards the bright daylight, fraternise in the public squares, announce the glad tidings, scatter plenteously your alphabets, proclaim human rights, sing your Marseillaises, sow enthusiasms, broadcast, tear off green branches from the oak trees. Make thought a whirlwind. This multitude can be sublimated. Let us learn to avail ourselves of this vast combustion of principles and virtues, which sparkles, crackles and thrills at certain periods. These bare feet, these naked arms, these rags, these shades of ignorance, these depths of abjectness, these abysses of gloom may be employed in the conquest of the ideal. Look through the medium of the people, and you shall discern the truth. This lowly sand which you trample beneath your feet, if you cast it into the furnace, and let it melt and seethe, shall become resplendent crystal, and by means of such as it a Galileo and a Newtown shall discover stars. ~ Victor Hugo

Lego, however, is always opened and then left lying around so adults have something to tread on when they are prowling around around the house at two in the morning, in bare feet, looking for the source of a noise. ~ Jeremy Clarkson

This is the last time we have breakfast together:
our warm coffee mugs on the kitchen table
our cold bare feet on the blue tile ~ Malak El Halabi

Want to forget that you're growing older? Walk across green grass with bare feet. ~ Toni Sorenson

Instead, I woke early the next morning, before sunrise, and went out into the world. I walked past my car. I stepped onto the pavement, still warm from the previous day's sun. I started walking. In bare feet, I traveled upriver toward the place where I was born and will someday die. At that moment, if you had broken open my heart you could have looked inside and seen the thin white skeletons of one thousand salmon. ~ Sherman Alexie

I like to walk around with bare feet and I don't like to comb my hair. ~ Beyonce Knowles

Throughout the movie, we moved to eat popcorn, shifted to get comfortable, only to end up uncomfortable; an awkward dance of keeping my hands and parts from familiar and unfamiliar areas of Echo's divine body. I was capable of being a gentleman for the length of one movie, at least. The credits roled and my left hand, which I'd placed behind my head to avoid her tempting tummy, tingled with numbness.
My patience finaly snapped. "This is ridiculous." I swept her up and swung her over my shoulder, her bare feet dangling in front of me.
Tinkling laughter filed the room. "What are you doing?" I tossed her onto the bed. Her fire-red hair sprawled over the pilow. My siren smiled up at me.
"Getting comfortable," I said. " -Noah's POV ~ Katie McGarry

I like feet. I definitely have a fetish. I love to see a man's bare foot, but its got to be taken care of. If they're not well manicured, you've got to wonder what the rest of him is like. I don't want to get in bed with somebody and feel his gnarly feet. ~ Brooke Burke

Thane had security covering nearly every inch of his house, but Emerson couldn't help but follow her nose down to the kitchens, dodging around the busy staff he'd hired for the occasion to find the creamy, rich, sugary smell of wonderfulness that had lured her from his bedroom. She'd left him in a naked, facedown sprawl, dead center on the bed, his bare feet and shins hanging off the end. But for all his efforts - and they were godlike - she wasn't quite sated. ~ Jennifer Ashley

What what," Trapis said as he hurried over to tend to her, his bare feet slapping on the floor. "What what. Hush hush. ~ Patrick Rothfuss

Later they went outside, where a light rain was blowing in, mixed with salt spray feathering off the surf. Shasta wandered slowly down to the beach and through the wet sand, her nape in a curve she had learned, from times when back-turning came into it, the charm of. Doc followed the prints of her bare feet already collapsing into rain and shadow, as if in a fool's attempt to find his way back into a past that despite them both had gone on into the future it did. The surf, only now and then visible, was hammering at his spirit, knocking things loose, some to fall into the dark and be lost forever, some to edge into the fitful light of his attention whether he wanted to see them or not. ~ Thomas Pynchon

Listen to the silence,' said Margarita to the master, the sand rustling under her bare feet. 'Listen to the silence and enjoy it. Here is the peace that you never knew in your lifetime. Look, there is your home for eternity, which is your reward. I can already see a Venetian window and a climbing vine which grows right up to the roof. It's your home, your home for ever. In the evenings people will come to see you- people who interest you, people who will never upset you. They will play to you and sing to you and you will see how beautiful the room is by candlelight. You shall go to sleep with your dirty old cap on, you shall go to sleep with a smile on your lips. ~ Mikhail Bulgakov

I like to walk, touch living Mother Earth - bare feet best, and thrill every step. Used to envy happy reptiles that had advantage of so much body in contact with earth, bosom to bosom. [We] live with our heels as well as head and most of our pleasure comes in that way. ~ John Muir

Stop being so stubborn!" Her bare feet fell to the onyx floor. "Do not make me beg you. Because I won't. I'll merely lose my temper or cry. And I have always secretly despised those who cry to wheedle their objectives. But if you force me to do it, Khalid Ibn al-Rashid, I will. And I cry beautifully." She crossed her arms and pursed her lips.

A corner of his mouth twitched. "You do not cry beautifully."

"Liar!"

"I'm not lying." He held her gaze. "I rarely lie ~ Renee Ahdieh

Muriel, you're not a convenience. I'd walk across a mile of cut glass in my bare feet to hold your hand and talk to you for one hour. You're everything to me.
Walt ~ Robyn Carr

Another memorable performance of 'Black Sabbath' was in a town hall near Manchester. The manager was there to greet us in a suit and tie when we climbed out of the van. You should have seen the look on his face when he saw us.
'Is that what you're going to wear on stage?' he asked me, staring at my bare feet and pyjama top.
'Oh no,' I said, in this fake-shocked voice. 'I always perform in gold spandex. Have you ever seen an Elvis gig? Well, I look a bit like him – but of course my tits are much smaller.' ~ Ozzy Osbourne

Easing farther inside, he found a woman within who resembled Mariketa. Beside her stood a man who crossed thick arms over his chest, raising his brows at Bowe.
At that moment, Bowe realized that he was meeting Mari's parents - and that, in addition to his bare feet and unshaven, rough appearance, his shirt was on backward. And inside out.
"This is the male she's been seeing?" the man muttered. "He can't even dress himself."
Bowe just stifled the urge to point out that though he might not be able to dress himself, he sure as hell could perceive when a bairn was on his shoulders. Instead he bit his tongue. This warlock, though arrogant, was Bowe's future father-in-law.
"A werewolf, Jill? Really."
"Hush." The woman slapped the back of her hand against his stomach, then said, "I'm Jillian. And this is my husband, Warren. We are Mari's parents. And we know you're Bowen MacRieve of the Lykae clan."
He gave her a nod.
To Bowe, Warren demanded, "Aren't you a bit old for my daughter?"
When Bowe scowled, Jillian blithely continued, "We've been waiting for you. ~ Kresley Cole

Yoga class is intimate even just from the standpoint of taking off your socks. Exposing your bare feet can be a big deal. You may be an African American next to a Caucasian or a Latino. But once practice begins and we drop in, separation dissolves. ~ James Fox

Michael held out one hand and made a "come here" motion. "Turn."
Without taking his intense focus from the open sea ahead, he swiftly unfastened the safety harness, then swiveled her face front and worked the closures on the jacket. Cold air bathed Tally's wet clothing and already chilled skin. His fingers felt warm through the wet cloth of her shirt.
"Th-thanks." Instead of feeling cold, she felt a rush of heat and stepped away. All this fear and adrenaline rushing around inside her was screwing up her normal, logical self. Her response to the man was as unexpected as it was intriguing.
Apparently, by the look on his face, he hadn't felt anything. "Get below," he said, voice grim, jaw set. He moved about on bare feet. Moved fast, but efficiently.
"Should I take your cat with me?"
"Don't have a cat."
The black furry thing right in front of him blinked.
"What's that?"
"Snap to it, sweetheart. We've got about seventeen minutes before the tail end of that typhoon hits us."
Tally almost smiled at the precision. "Exactly seventeen minutes? How could you possibly know that?"
"Want to stand there and debate it with a stopwatch?"
"No. What can I do to help?" She had to shout, and even then she wasn't sure he'd heard her.
"Told you. Below. ~ Cherry Adair

The music became a siren song. The melody was my lodestone, and I was powerless against its lure. With each step, I savored the dampness of the grass beneath my bare feet. I didn't remember when I'd lost my shoes. ~ Sarah J. Maas

They will tremble with awe because of all the good and all the peace I will bring about for them. Jeremiah 33:9 God does not minimize the things that break our hearts. He is not looking down on us, thinking how petty we are because things have hurt us. If we are so "heavenly minded" that we grow out of touch with earthly hardships, we've missed an important priority of Christ. God left our bare feet on the hot pavement of earth so we could grow through our hurts, not ignore and refuse to feel our way through them. So surrender your hurt to Him, withholding nothing, and invite Him to work miracles from your misery. Be patient and get to know Him through the process of healing. ~ Beth Moore

this is real, and it is happening now, just as it happened before: We are under the big tree in my backyard, on that patch of dirt where we used to build fairy houses from moss and sticks and scraps of birch. It is late afternoon. All around us is golden light. We have been together all day, in our cutoff shorts and bare feet. It is the start of fifth grade, the start of being the oldest in the school. Next year, we will be the youngest all over again. But not yet. We are playing that hand-slapping game, the one we like to play at recess. You hold your hands out, palms up, and I place mine lightly on top. You pull yours out and try to slap mine. You hit air three times. On the fourth try, your ~ Ali Benjamin

She ran over the frost-laden grass in her bare feet and threw herself at him, grabbing on to his neck with both arms. She held him so tightly his spine cracked. She was sobbing. Bawling. Crying so hard her whole body was shaking. He didn't ask any questions, just wrapped himself around her. "I'm not okay," she said hoarsely between breaths. "Rhage ... I'm not okay." He closed his eyes and held on tight. ~ J.R. Ward

Humans cannot fly, but they can get the flying feeling. All they need to do is go out at night into a wild storm where the thunder roars like applause and the lightning throws itself in daggers of light at your bare feet and you suddenly find you are not afraid. ~ Hilary McKay

On the lawn one late summer day, her pale hair tangled because she'd cry if anyone tried to brush it, spinning around and around until she got so dizzy she fell in a pile of bare feet and dandelions and sundress. ~ Holly Black

Revere your senses; don't degrade them with drugs, with depression, with willful oblivion. Try to notice something new every day, Eustace said. Pay attention to even the most modest of daily details. Even if you're not in the woods, be aware at all times. Notice what food tastes like, notice what the detergent aisle in the supermarket smells like and recognize what those hard chemical smells do to your senses; notice what bare feet feel like; pay attention every day to the vital insights that mindfulness can bring. And take care of all things, of every single thing there is - your body, your intellect, your spirit, your neighbors, and this planet. Don't pollute your soul with apathy or spoil your health with junk food any more than you would deliberately contaminate a clean river with industrial sludge. You can never become a real man if you have a careless and destructive attitude, Eustace said, but maturity will follow mindfulness even as day follows night. ~ Elizabeth Gilbert

I love the water. Everything about it. Smelling the humidity in the air, seeing the mist rise in the morning, feeling the dew-wet grass on my bare feet. I love watching the fish jump and the geese land. We even have an eagle here that circles every so often. ~ Lori Foster

Talivar slouched in the chair next to me, casually lifting his bare feet to rest upon my chair's footrest. It was an oddly possessive move. It was also oddly sexy. ~ Allison Pang

My patience finally snapped. "This is ridiculous." I swept her up and swung her over my shoulder, her bare feet dangling in front of me.
Tinkling laughter filled the room. "What are you doing?" I tossed her onto the bed. Her fire-red hair sprawled over the pillow. My siren smiled up at me.
"Getting comfortable," I said.
Echo blinked and raw hunger replaced the laughter that danced in her eyes moments before. Her delicate fingers glided up my arm, exciting every cell. "You don't look very comfortable." The sultry tone caused something deep within me to stir.
I swallowed, attempting to push away the unexpected flutter of nerves in my stomach. "Echo …"
My heart swelled, causing my chest to ache and breathing to become nearly impossible. Paralyzed by her beauty, I hovered over her. She was no nymph, but a goddess.
Her hands continued their burning climb up my arm and onto my chest. Bold moves for her. Echo's breasts rose and fell at a faster rate. "I want to stay with you tonight."
I sucked in a breath as her fingers trailed down the indentations of my chest muscles and willed her to continue as they made their slow descent. Caressing the warm redness forming on her cheek, I sank onto the bed beside her. "Are you sure?"
"Yes." ~ Katie McGarry

And from the top of the building I look down upon the world and see the crowds of people in the city I have made and the world that I have created.
This universe, my universe, dies with me. I will jump and I will die and yet, I will live, as I always do.
I will live and die and murder, a massacre of my people. And I watch as the girl's bare feet leap and her naked body falls. Down, down, down, she falls. She drops. Into the fires of a hell of my making. ~ Emma Rose Kraus

I loved the hole in his jeans and the dirt on his bare feet and the scab on his elbow and the scar that laced through one eyebrow. ~ E. Lockhart

If you fall for a dark-eyed beauty, pretty as a picture, with lips as sweet as a luscious rasberry, and a gentle face, unrumpled by kisses, like an apple-blossom petal in May, and she becomes your love - then do not say that love is yours: even though you cannot tire of her rounded breasts, of her slender frame that melts in your embrace like wax before a flame. . . . The day will come, that cruel hour will come, the fatal moment will come, when he face will fade, rumpled by kisses, her breasts will no longer quiver at your touch: all this will come to pass; and you will be alone with your own shadow amidst the sunscorched deserts and the dried up springs, where flowers do not bloom and the sunlight plays on the dry skin of a lizard; and you might even see the hairy black tarantula's lair, all enmeshed in the threads of its web . . . And then your thirsting voice will be raised from the sands, calling longingly to your homeland.
---
But if your love is otherwise, if her browless face has once been touched by the black blemish of the pox, if her hair is red, her breasts sagging, her bare feet dirty, and to any extent at all her stomach protrudes, and still she is your love - then that which you have sought and found in her is the sacred homeland of your soul. ~ Andrei Bely

In this here place, we flesh; flesh that weeps, laughs; flesh that dances on bare feet in grass. Love it. Love it hard. Yonder they do not love your flesh. They despise it. They don't love your eyes; they'd just as soon pick em out. No more do they love the skin on your back. Yonder they flay it. And O my people they do not love your hands. Those they only use, tie, bind, chop off and leave empty. Love your hands! Love them. Raise them up and kiss them. Touch others with them, pat them together, stroke them on your face 'cause they don't love that either. You got to love it, you! And no, they ain't in love with your mouth. Yonder, out there, they will see it broken and break it again. What you say out of it they will not heed. What you scream from it they do not hear. What you put into it to nourish your body they will snatch away and give you leavins instead. No, they don't love your mouth. You got to love it. This is flesh I'm talking about here. Flesh that needs to be loved. Feet that need to rest and to dance; backs that need support; shoulders that need arms, strong arms I'm telling you. And O my people, out yonder, hear me, they do not love your neck unnoosed and straight. So love your neck; put a hand on it, grace it, stroke it and hold it up. and all your inside parts that they'd just as soon slop for hogs, you got to love them. The dark, dark liver--love it, love it and the beat and beating heart, love that too. More than eyes or feet. More than lungs that have yet t ~ Toni Morrison

He doesn't bother to talk, and I don't either, but we look. We stare. And for a moment, I am sure of everything. For a second, with my bare feet on the fresh thick grass, there has not been, for any of us, even one mistake. ~ Katie Crouch

What kind of books do you like?'
'I like books about nice people. And a story where it all comes out right in the end.'
'But Nancibel, that's not true to life.'
'I daresay not. Why should it be?'
'You're an escapist.'
'Pardon?'
'You don't want the face facts.'
'Not in story books, I don't. I face plenty between Monday and Saturday without reading about them.'
Bruce sighed.
'I don't think a book ought to be sad,' said Nancibel, 'unless it's a great classical book, like 'Wuthering Heights.'
'Oh! You've read 'Wuthering Heights'. Did you like it?'
'Yes, but I didn't think it was the right part for Merle Oberon. Running about with bare feet, well she was hobbling most of the time. You could see she wasn't used to it.'
'Oh... you mean the film. ~ Margaret Kennedy

The powdery sand caves under his weight and his bare feet sink at once marking the beach with shallow potholes ~ Stephanie Fleshman

If I should get lost in all the chaos of the world, pull your butterly net and catch me in the beauty of your love. Remind me of important things -- friends, flowers, fields of cool grass under bare feet, blue skies above, rain on my face, and freedom... freedom to make a difference, freedom to be me. Pull out your butterfly net and remind me of these things, and most of all... your undying love. ~ Melody Lee

You know …» She stares at her bare feet, then speaks again. «The shit we've been through … I think it was good that it happened. As stupid as this may sound, it made it possible for me to trust you. It's like by breaking my heart you cracked me open, the real me, so I could come out of the shell. I've seen the worst that can happen when you trust someone and … I think I came out stronger. A better person, maybe. ~ Bridie Hall

It was like a crazy bowling alley. Huge glass balls rolled across the office flattening everything in their path. Tiny old men ran balanced on top of the spheres like circus acrobats, their silver gowns flowing behind them. Using their bare feet, they maneuvered the balls effortlessly in all directions. Like single entities, man and ball moved as one. ~ C. Gockel

If he had even blinked, she would have been gone; but he did not blink, and he held her, as he had learned to hold griffins and chimeras motionless with his steady gaze. Her bare feet wounded him deeper than any tusk or riving talon ever had, but he was a true hero. ~ Peter S. Beagle

It was love, and it hit me so hard I leaned against the screen door that still stood between us, just to stay vertical. The universe was good because he was in it. I loved the hole in his jeans and the dirt on his bare feet and the scab on his elbow and the scar that laces through one eyebrow. Gat, my Gat. ~ E. Lockhart

While we're young and beautiful, living free and easy. Here without a worry, dancing in our bare feet because when the summer's done we might not be so young and beautiful. ~ Carrie Underwood

You must make a choice," the Goddess said.

"Is that my only choice – to choose between men?" I asked. "I want what Mother had!"

"Your mother chose two men," she said with light laughter.

"No! She chose independence for her country. She chose power and freedom," I yelled.

Almost as if in response, a pulsating energy moved up from the ground into my bare feet. It thrummed up my body and radiated out in a bright light, first from my toes, then from my fingertips, then the top of my head.

"I choose power," I said. "I choose freedom. ~ Vicky Alvear Shecter

(...) Tell me a tale in which a woman is wed, and she is happy." The boy's lip trembled, and there was pity in him like a stranging vine. He knelt at Dinarzad's bare feet, and held her hands in his. "I do not know any stories like that", he whispered. ~ Catherynne M. Valente

I want to be intoxicated by the darkened ether of midnight, running through my fingers as sparkling stardust. I crave the taste of the ocean's salty tears, as her temperamental tides crash and break against the rocks. I yearn for the sweet scent of sun on my skin and the earthy musk of dirt giving way under my bare feet. I want to lay naked in golden fields, as i gaze up at an endless sky, dreaming my dreams, as Mother Nature's love washes over me like spiritual sunshine. ~ Jaeda DeWalt

Only two people have been on the cover of Time Magazine in bare feet. I'm one, the other is Gandhi. ~ Marc Andreessen

So I stood up and did a handstand on my Guru's roof, to celebrate the notion of liberation. I felt the dusty tiles under my hands. I felt my own strength and balance. I felt the easy night breeze on the palms of my bare feet. This kind of thing
a spontaneous handstand
isn't something a disembodied cool blue soul can do, but a human being can do it. We have hands; we can stand on them if we want to. That's our privilege. That's the joy of a mortal body. And that's why God needs us. Because God loves to feel things through our hands. ~ Elizabeth Gilbert

And in the shadow of the square below, a small movement betrayed the presence of a man. Waiting. Roger closed his eyes, cold rising from his bare feet up his body, seeing in his mind the sudden vision of a green-eyed woman, lazy in the arms of a fair-haired lover ... and a look of surprise and then of horror on her face as the man vanished from her side. And an invisible blue glow rose in her womb. With his eyes tight shut, he put a hand on the icy windowpane, and said a prayer to be going on with. ~ Diana Gabaldon

Auri hopped down from the chimney and skipped over to where I stood, her hair streaming behind her. "Hello Kvothe." She took a half-step back. "You reek."
I smiled my best smile of the day. "Hello Auri," I said. "You smell like a
pretty young girl."
"I do," she agreed happily.
She stepped sideways a little, then forward again, moving lightly on the balls of her bare feet. "What did you bring me?" she asked.
"What did you bring me?" I countered.
She grinned. "I have an apple that thinks it is a pear," she said, holding it up. "And a bun that thinks it is a cat. And a lettuce that thinks it is a lettuce."
"It's a clever lettuce then."
"Hardly," she said with a delicate snort. "Why would anything clever think it was a lettuce?"
"Even if it is a lettuce?" I asked.
"Especially then," she said. "Bad enough to be a lettuce. How awful to think you are a lettuce too." She shook her head sadly, her hair following the motion as if she were underwater.
I unwrapped my bundle. "I brought you some potatoes, half a squash,
and a bottle of beer that thinks it is a loaf of bread."
"What does the squash think it is?" she asked curiously, looking down at it. She held her hands clasped behind her back
"It knows it's a squash," I said. "But it's pretending to be the setting sun."
"And the potatoes?" she asked.
"They're sleeping," I said. "And cold, I'm afraid."
She looked up at me, her eyes gentle. "Don't be afrai ~ Patrick Rothfuss

I fold back the sheet, get carefully up, on silent bare feet, in my nightgown, go to the window, like a child, I want to see. The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow. The sky is clear but hard to make out, because of the searchlight; but yes, in the obscured sky a moon does float, newly, a wishing moon, a sliver of ancient rock, a goddess, a wink. The moon is a stone and the sky is full of deadly hardware, but oh God, how beautiful anyway. I want Luke here so badly. I want to be held and told my name. I want to be valued, in ways that I am not; I want to be more than valuable. I repeat my former name, remind myself of what I once could do, how others saw me. I ~ Margaret Atwood

I dreamed my lips would drift down your back like a skiff on a river. I'd follow a vein with the point of my finger, hold your bare feet in my naked hands. ~ William H. Gass

I eat beef jerky and ride with bare feet on the dashboard. We ~ Gillian Flynn

The moon shone in the rocking horsr's eye, and in the mouse's eye, too, when Tolly fetched it out from under his pillow to see. The clock went tick-tock, and in the stillness he heard little bare feet running across the floor, then laughter and whispering, and a sound like the pages of a big book being turned over. ~ L.M. Boston

The site of his thinking and writing was a small office wedged in one corner of his shaggy house, on whose door he'd installed a lock to keep his sons out. They gathered wistfully outside it, his boys, with their chipped, heartbreaking faces. They were not permitted to so much as knock upon the door to the room in which he thought and wrote about art, but Ted hadn't found a way to keep them from prowling outside it, ghostly feral creatures drinking from a pond in moonlight, their bare feet digging at the carpet, their fingers sweating on the walls, leaving spoors of grease that Ted would point out each week to Elsa, the cleaning woman. He would sit in his office, listening to the movements of his boys, imagining that he felt their hot, curious breath. I will not let them in, he would tell himself. I will sit and think about art. But he found, to his despair, that often he couldn't think about art. He thought about nothing at all. ~ Jennifer Egan

The moment my bare feet make contact with the wood floor, my breath catches in my throat. Blake swivels his body around to greet me.
"Morning, roomie."
His voice is like a shot of caffeine that ignites my body. How does he do that? ~ Alex Rosa

I don't understand, Jenna, why you couldn't give him a ride home?" Mom struck the archetypal Mom pose-hands on hips, perplexed look on face, head tilted at that I cannot believe you came from my womb angle. "He walked home in the pouring rain. With a cold, I might add."
"I didn't know he had a cold. I was at the JCC with Steph," I said, knowing that was not going to fly. Cameron padded into the kitchen on bare feet, rubbing his hair dry with a towel.
"It's fine," he said. "I didn't have to walk that far."
Mom shook her head. "It's not fine. While you're living with us, you're part of the family, and we don't leave each other stranded in the rain. ~ Sara Zarr

All the great game show hosts have a signature 'look,' from Bob Barker's year-round Brazil Nut-hued tan to Monty Hall's oversized lamb chop sideburns. As the host of IFC's new comedy game show 'Bunk,' I, too, have worked to develop a style signature by being the first man or woman in TV history to host every show in my bare feet! ~ Kurt Braunohler

I was ravenous for my child and took to gorging myself in the boneyard, hoping that she might possibly meet me halfway, or just beyond, one night, if only for an instant - step back into her own bare feet, onto the wet grass or fallen leaves or snowy ground of the living Enon, so that we could share just one last human word. ~ Paul Harding

Scuffing her bare feet into slippers, she shrugged into a silk robe, then hesitated, looking down at Perrin. He would be able to see her clearly, if he woke, but to her, he was just a shadowed mound. She wished her mother were there, now, to advise her. She loved Perrin with every fiber of her being, and he confused every fiber. Actually understanding men was impossible, of course, but he was so unlike anyone she had grown up with. He never swaggered, and instead of laughing at himself, he was... modest. She had not believed a man could be modest! He insisted that only chance had made him a leader, claimed he did not know how to lead, when men who met him were ready to follow after an hour. He dismissed his own thinking as slow, when those slow, considering thoughts saw so deeply that she had to dance a merry jig to keep any secrets at all. He was a wonderful man, her curly-haired wolf. So strong. And so gentle. ~ Robert Jordan

I like heels only to feel them jabbing my ass while I f*** you. Other then that, I like bare feet. I like you barefoot."
"Barefoot and working. That's...that's different."
"Mm-hm. That's right. I want my mate barefoot and pregnant and running around my quarters. All day long inside my quarters so that I can come and f*** her whenever I want. All day if I want. ~ Misty Kayn

Do not think of him with Blay. Do not think of him with Blay. Do not think of him -
"I didn't know you were a sherry man."
"Huh?" Qhuinn glanced down at what he'd poured himself. Fuck. In the midst of the self-lecture, he'd picked up the wrong bottle. "Oh, you know… I'm good with it."
To prove the point, he tossed back the hooch - and nearly choked as the sweetness hit his throat.
He served himself another only so he didn't look like the kind of idiot who wouldn't know what he was dishing out into his own glass.
Okay, gag. The second was worse than the first.
From out of the corner of his eye, he watched Saxton settle in at the table, the brass lamp in front of him casting the most perfect glow over his face. Shiiiiiit, he looked like something out of a Ralph Lauren ad, with his buff-colored tweed jacket and his pointed pocket square and that button-down/sweater vest combo keeping his fucking liver cozy.
Meanwhile, Qhuinn was sporting hospital scrubs, bare feet. And sherry. ~ J.R. Ward

Every time Gat said these things, so casual and truthful, so oblivious - my veins opened. My wrists split. I bled down my palms. I went light-headed. I'd stagger from the table or collapse in quite shameful agony, hoping no-one in the family would notice ... Gat almost always saw, though. When blood dripped on my bare feet or poured over the book I was reading, he was kind. He wrapped my wrists in a soft white gauze and asked me questions about what had happened ... as if talking about something could make it better. As if wounds needed attention. ~ E. Lockhart

Anna practically leapt out of bed and skidded across the floor in her bare feet. She didn't bother looking in the mirror. Her long red hair, which she had unbraided the night before, couldn't be that messy, could it? Hmmm... maybe she'd give it a quick glance before she pulled off her nightdress. She looked in the mirror. Not good. Her hair looked like a bird's nest.
Did she have time to fix it?
She had to fix it.
Where was her brush?
It should have been on the desk like it always was, but it wasn't there. Where was it?
Think, Anna. She remembered brushing her hair the morning before at the window seat, because it had the best view of Arendelle. Looking at Arendelle made her start dreaming about Arendelle and what she'd do when she someday moved there. She'd have her own bake shop, of course, and her cookies would be so popular that people would be lined up day and night to purchase them. She'd meet new people and make friends, and it all sounded so glorious she had started singing and spinning around the room with the hairbrush... Oh! Now she remembered where she had flung it. ~ Jen Calonita

I glance around at the nest we have made, at the floorboards polished by our bare feet, at the continents of stain on the ceiling like an old and all-wrong discoverer's map, at the earnestly bloated canvases I conscientiously cover with great streaks straining to say what even I am begining to suspect is the unsayable thing, and I grow frightened. ~ John Updike

Imagine your kid is running into the street and you have to sprint after her in bare feet," Eric told me when I picked up my training with him after my time with Ken. "You'll automatically lock into perfect form
you'll be up on your forefeet, with your back erect, head steady, arms high, elbows driving, and feet touching down quickly on the forefoot and kicking back toward your butt."
You can't run uphill powerfully with poor biomechanics," Eric explained. ~ Christopher McDougall

Don't act like you know the first thing about the continent," I snapped. "It isn't as though you've ever visited."

He flinched, silent for a moment. "Have you?"

"No," I admitted. "But I very likely would have if you hadn't kidnapped me."

"I didn't kidnap you," Tristan said, his voice filled with irritation. "Your friend Luc did."

"He wouldn't have done so, if not for you. And he isn't my friend."

"That might be the case, but I don't doubt that he'd have substituted an equivalently dastardly deed in its place." He pointed a finger at me. "Mark my words, the boy was of a vile sort."

"Then you are two of a kind," I snapped.

"Ha ha," Tristan snorted. "How dreadfully clever. And speaking of clever, is this to be your bid for escape?" He contemplated my clothing. "In a dressing gown and bare feet? Now tell me, if I go put on nightclothes and slippers, might I join you, or is this a solo adventure?"

My eyes stung. "You think this is all exceedingly funny, don't you? I'm nothing but a joke to you."

His brow creased in a frown. "If you're a joke, it isn't an especially humorous one."

I threw up my hands in frustration. "You are the most intolerable individual I've ever met."

He bowed. "Why, thank you, Cécile. Always a pleasure to have one's accomplishments recognized."

"You are the last person in the world I'd choose to marry," I hissed.

"I don ~ Danielle L. Jensen