Hung Low Quotes

He squinted up at the sky and quickly rose to his feet, sheathing his knife. "Rosie," he beckoned to her but kept his eyes on the shadows that hung low brushing the top of the keep. "Rosie, come inside. There's a storm almost ready to hit."
She skipped over to him and slumped her shoulders, but he teased a grin out of her the next moment. "I'll fill your bucket for you if you set up the blanket house with Maire."
She shoved the bucket into his hands and entered the house, sing-songing for her sister. ~ Kate Willis

You first."
"No, you."
"Why?"
"I'm afraid."
"Of what, my Sassenach?" The darkness was rolling in over the fields, filling the land and rising up to meet the night. The light of the new crescent moon marked the ridges of brow and nose, crossing his face with light.
"I'm afraid if I start I shall never stop."
He cast a glance at the horizon, where the sickle moon hung low and rising. "It's nearly winter, and the nights are long, mo duinne." He leaned across the fence, reaching, and I stepped into his arms, feeling the heat of his body and the beat of his heart.
"I love you. ~ Diana Gabaldon

The woman had gone down on her knees and was shuffling slowly across the cruel ground towards the group of crosses: the dead baby rocked on her back. When she reached the tallest cross she unhooked the child and held the face against the wood and afterwards the loins: then she crossed herself, not as ordinary Catholics do, but in a curious and complicated pattern which included the nose and ears. Did she expect a miracle? And if she did, why should it not be granted her? the priest wondered. Faith, one was told, could move mountains, and here was faith--faith in the spittle that healed the blind man and the voice that raised the dead. The evening star was out: it hung low down over the edge of the plateau: it looked as if it was within reach: and a small hot wind stirred. The priest found himself watching the child for some movement. When none came, it was as if God had missed an opportunity. The woman sat down, and taking a lump of sugar from her bundle, began to eat, and the child lay quiet at the foot of the cross. Why, after all, should we expect God to punish the innocent with more life? ~ Graham Greene

The cold bright moon hung low in the sky. Weeping as it set. ~ Jazz Feylynn

It almost rained Saturday.The clouds hung low over the farm.The air felt thick.It smelled like rain.
In town,the sidewalks got damp, that was all. ~ Karen Hesse

The hot humid day had followed the sun westward, leaving a cool midnight breeze. The sky, God's special gift to the sailor, was free of city lights and urban pollution. Placed on display, all of creation was set on the night's canopy of blue-black velvet adorned with the glistening diamond dust of billions of lesser stars and the sparkling one-point diamonds of the major stars.

A deep golden harvest moon hung low on the eastern horizon. Its glow cut a pewter path from moon to ship across shifting liquid swells rolling forward to meet the Farnley's bow. The bow, rocking gently, rose, then floated gently down to embrace the next swell. ~ Larry Laswell

When we neared the orchard a flock of birds lit from its outer rows. They hadn't been there long. The branches shook with their absent weight and the birds circled above in the riddy mackerel sky, where they made an artless semaphore. I was afraid, I smelled copper and cheap wine. The sun was up, but a half-moon hung low on the opposite horizon, cutting through the morning sky like a figure from a child's pull-tab book.
We were lined along the ditch up to our ankles in a soupy muck. It all seemed in that moment to be the conclusion of a poorly designed experiment in inevitability. Everything was in its proper place, waiting for a pause in time, for the source of all momentum to be stilled, so that what remained would be nothing more than detritus to be tallied up. The world was paper-thin as far as I could tell. And the world was the orchard, and the orchard was what came next. But none of that was true. I was only afraid of dying. ~ Kevin Powers

The stillest hour of the night had come, the hour before dawn, when the world seems to hold its breath. The moon hung low, and had turned from silver to copper in the sleeping sky. ~ Kate Chopin

Once he paused near a small stream to watch a dipper bob up and down on a rock. He saw a school of trout lurking in a shady place where a branch hung low on the water. No amount of seeing ever made nature old to him, and he was conscious of every movement and sound. ~ Louis L'Amour

I would that we were, my beloved, white birds on the foam of the sea!
We tire of the flame of the meteor, before it can fadeand flee;
And the flame of the blue star of twilight, hung low on the rim of the sky,
Has awaked in our hearts, my beloved, a sadness that may not die. ~ William Butler Yeats

…she made a poem on it at once, the lines singing themselves through her consciousness without effort. With one side of her nature she liked writing prose best– with the other she liked writing poetry. This side was uppermost tonight and her very thoughts ran into rhyme. A great, pulsating star hung low in the sky over Indian Head. Emily gazed on it and recalled Teddy's old fancy of his previous existence on a star. The idea seized on her imagination and she spun a dream life, lived on some happy planet circling around that mighty, far-off sun. Then came the northern lights–drifts of pale fire over the sky– spears of light, as of empyrean armies– pale, elusive hosts retreating and advancing. Emily lay and watched them in rapture. Her soul was washed pure in that great bath of splendour…Such moments come rarely into any life, but when they do come they are inexpressibly wonderful– as if the finite were for a second infinity– as if humanity were for a space uplifted into divinity– as if all ugliness had vanished, leaving only flawless beauty. Oh–beauty–Emily shivered with the pure ecstasy of it. She loved it– it filled her being tonight as never before. She was afraid to move or breathe lest she break the current of beauty that was flowing through her…"Oh, God, make me worthy of it– oh, make me worthy of it," she prayed. Could she ever be worthy of such a message– could she dare try to carry some of the loveliness of that "dialogue divine" back to the everyday world of sordid m ~ L.M. Montgomery

They were scrawny, even by Feegle standards, with barely a wisp of beard hair between them and impractically low-slung spogs knocking about their knees, their kilts hung low on their skinny hips. To Tiffany's amazement, she could see the top bands of colored pants riding high above them. pants? On a Feegle? The times were indeed changing.
"Pull yon kilts up, lads!" Ron muttered as they pushed their way past. ~ Terry Pratchett

Before heading back up the road, she had turned for a moment toward the sea. In the late afternoon light, the water was gray wrinkled with orange. Tiger water, she called it when it looked like that. Rhino water was smooth and leaden, dull as smoke. But her favorite was polar bear water, when the moon hung low and large, as if too heavy to rise very high, and scattered great radiant patches, like ice floes, across a dark blue ocean. ~ Julia Glass

Claire. - Venus hung low on the Atlantic horizon of a dawn sky. Continuing to shine brightly, her watery reflection lit up a path on the sea across the bay to where Claire stood on the patio. The shining goddess was the last thing she remembered seeing through the bedroom window, before succumbing to sleep. She was high in the night sky then, the brightest of all heavenly bodies, casting an apparent examination of what was euphemistically known as Orion's 'sword'. ~ Francine Scott

Those baby blues widened and he swaggered around the railing. I couldn't help but notice how his gym shorts hung low on his narrow hips. Or his stomach. It was ripped, taking six pack into eight pack territory. ~ Jennifer L. Armentrout

There was movement along the fringe of Chauncey's vision, and he snapped his head to the left. At first glance what appeared to be a large angel topping a nearby monument rose to full height. Neither stone nor marble, the boy had arms and legs. His torso was naked, his feet were bare, and peasant trousers hung low on his waist. He hopped down from the monument, the ends of his hair dripping rain. It slid down his face, which was dark as a Spaniard's. ~ Becca Fitzpatrick

His shorts hung low and his sweaty, cut to within an inch of its life, pelvic V muscle, was giving a silent but clear invitation to my tongue. ~ R.K. Lilley

No Child of Yours

I saw a child hide in the corner
So I went and asked her name
She was so naive and so petite
With such a tiny frame.

'No one,' she replied, that's what I am called
I have no family, no one at all
I eat, I sleep, I get depressed
There is no life, I have nothing left.'

'Why hide in the corner?' I had to ask twice
Because I've been hurt, it not very nice
I tried to stop it, it was out of my control
I feared for myself I wanted to go.

I begged for my sorrow to disappear
I turned in my bed, oh God, I knew they were near
'So come on little girl, where do you go
A path ahead, or a path to unknown?'

With that she arose, her head hung low
She held herself for only she knows
Her tears held back, her heart like ice
It looks as though she has paid the price.

The ice started melting, her tears to flow
The memories flood back, still so many years to go
The pain, the anger all built up inside
Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.

It will get better, just wait and see
You'll get a life, though you'll never be fire
Open your heart and love yourself
The abuse you suffered was NOT your fault. ~ Teresa Cooper

A small patch of sunflowers came into view. Dozens of tall stalks topped with heavy golden flower heads swayed in they hot breeze. From a distance they looked like a group of ladies with their heads hung low, as if embarrassed that they'd arrived at a party wearing identical hats. ~ Beth Hoffman

Move what you can do at level one when you get to level one. When you get to level two, you need a bigger power to move it! ~ Israelmore Ayivor

When I'm depressed and I feel low thinking that good movies are not made any more, then I put on his movies and I watch them. I laugh and I cry and I have great pleasure. ~ Geraldine Chaplin

Many investors make the mistake of buying high and selling low while the exact opposite is the right strategy to outperform over the long term. ~ John Paulson

Responsibility and confidence and self-control are internal, so don't overlook the quiet guy in the corner. He might be shorter, and yet able to drop you to your knees with a low command. ~ Cherise Sinclair

In an age of information overload ... the last thing any of us needs is more information about God. We need the practice of incarnation, by which God saves the lives of those whose intellectual assent has turned them dry as dust, who have run frighteningly low on the bread of life, who are dying to know more God in their bodies. Not more about God. More God. ~ Rachel Held Evans

I would like to be mates with Richard Branson because I've hung out with him and he is just the loveliest person and obviously a very rich guy and has a lot of stuff going on, but he's actually a really, really sound person, and he's really positive and he's got a really good energy, so I'd like to hang out with him a bit more. ~ Ellie Goulding

Those who were high go down low, and those who've been low go up higher. ~ Anzia Yezierska

The streets of Prague were a fantasia scarcely touched by the twenty-first century - or the twentieth or nineteenth, for that matter. It was a city of alchemists and dreamers, its medieval cobbles once trod by golems, mystics, invading armies. Tall houses glowed goldenrod and carmine and eggshell blue, embellished with Rococo plasterwork and capped in roofs of uniform red. Baroque cupolas were the soft green of antique copper, and Gothic steeples stood ready to impale fallen angels. The wind carried the memory of magic, revolution, violins, and the cobbled lanes meandered like creeks. Thugs wore Motzart wigs and pushed chamber music on street corners, and marionettes hung in windows, making the whole city seem like a theater with unseen puppeteers crouched behind velvet. ~ Laini Taylor

Waste forces within him, and a desert all around, this man stood still on his way across a silent terrace, and saw for a moment, lying in the wilderness before him, a mirage of honourable ambition, self-denial, and perseverance. In the fair city of this vision, there were airy galleries from which the loves and graces looked upon him, gardens in which the fruits of life hung ripening, waters of Hope that sparkled in his sight. A moment and it was gone. Climbing to a high chamber in a well of houses, he threw himself down in his clothes on a neglected bed, and its pillow was wet with wasted tears. ~ Charles Dickens

His voice was low. Calm, assertive. And she actually turned to face the door before she stopped herself. "Stop woman-whispering me. ~ Jill Shalvis

A couple of them even knew he was hung up on her. Namely Evers and Bauer. ~ Kaylea Cross

It's suffocating - until I see you and can breathe. It's darkness - until your light breaks through. It's the lowest low - until you make me feel the highest high. It makes me want to walk through fire and fight for you. Save you and protect you. It allows me to feel you in my bones, in every crevice of my heart, and in every breath I take." Without ~ Randi Cooley Wilson

Part of me believes there is little hope for those like him, who have become as base as the men they associate with. But there's another part of me that will search this land high and low once we are settled in our second homeland and bring them back to us, where they belong."

He felt her stare but did not turn and look. Did not want those eyes reaching into him.

"So you are destined to spend the rest of your life scouring this land? Who are you, to deserve such a curse?" she asked.

One who has an evil lurking inside of me, he wanted to say. An evil that Seranonna of the Forest Dwellers recognized that day in the forest as he played alongside Isaboe.

Her blood will be shed for you to be king. ~ Melina Marchetta

Over the past few decades we have developed euphemisms to help us forget how we, as a nation, have segregated African American citizens. We have become embarrassed about saying "ghetto", a word that accurately describes a neighborhood where government has not only concentrated a minority but established barriers to its exit. We don't hesitate to acknowledge that Jews in eastern Europe were forced to live in ghettos where opportunity was limited and leaving was difficult or impossible. Yet when we encounter similar neighborhoods in this country, we now delicately refer to them as "the inner city", yet everyone knows what we mean. When affluent whites gentrify the same geographic areas, we don't characterize those whites as "inner city families". Before we became ashamed to admit that the country had circumscribed African Americans in ghettos, analysts of race relations, both African American and white, consistently and accurately used "ghetto" to describe low-income African American neighborhoods created by public policy, with a shortage of opportunity, and with barriers to exit. ~ Richard Rothstein

But there I was, surrendering to a most extraordinary call from the grave, the mass-grave-to-be of Europe, as if somewhere ahead lay an iron gateway, slightly ajar, leading to a low and sombre country, with an incalculable crowd on sides eager to pass into it, and bearing me along. ~ Thomas Pynchon

The US in some ways has been the best. Who figured out shale gas? Although that wasn't a good thing [for CO2 levels], it was very innovative. It's led to low-cost energy. Who figured out nuclear power? Largely the United States. Once you get past the steam engine, which is mostly British, then the US has been at the center of most of the energy things that have happened. ~ Bill Gates

Evil turned out not to be a grand thing. Not sneering Emperors with their world-conquering designs. Not cackling demons plotting in the darkness beyond the world. It was small men with their small acts and their small reasons. It was selfishness and carelessness and waste. It was bad luck, incompetence, and stupidity. It was violence divorced from conscience or consequence. It was high ideals, even, and low methods. ~ Joe Abercrombie

I moved from Kentucky to Miramar, Florida, at about 8. I think I was in second grade. I still had my Southern accent, and down there, you got to experience a melting pot in full fury. All the kids I hung out with were, like, Sicilian kids from Jersey and New York. ~ Johnny Depp

1. I'm brilliant
2. I'm charming
3. I'm hung like a thoroughbred
4. I've stopped all philandering
5. I'm highly skilled, as you've learned the other night.
P.S. Stop staring at my hands. I know what you want me to with them. ~ K.A. Tucker

What's a buckle-bunny?"
She grinned. "It used to be a description of the girls who hung around rodeo cowboys looking to hook up. Now it means any Texas gold digger who's looking for a sugar daddy."
"I'm not a gold digger."
"No, you advise them in your column. You tell them to support themselves and get their priorities straight."
"Everyone should listen to me," I said, and Haven laughed, lifting her glass.
-Ella & Haven ~ Lisa Kleypas

But, no, really, I had it this time. One of my first Salon essays was about confronting my debt, which had gotten so out of control I had to borrow money from my parents. That was a low moment, but it came with a boost of integrity. A free tax attorney helped me calculate the amount I owed the IRS - $40,000 - and put me on a payment plan. My commitment was seven years, which made me feel like the guy in Shawshank Redemption, tunneling out of prison with a spoon. ~ Sarah Hepola

I like that hot air balloon.' I pointed to the ceiling where an antique looking wooden hot air balloon hung.
'Yeah, I like it too. Partly because it's cool looking, but also partly because of the irony. It weighs a ton. In this office, anything can fly. No matter what is weighing it down. Even wooden balloons. Cool, huh? ~ Jennifer Brown

Jack didn't try to speak to me the following day. Or the day after.Or the day after that.
But he was in Mrs. Stone's classroom, in the seat next to mine, every day for an hour after school, the only sounds coming from our pencils scratching against our papers. And the days passed like this quickly. Too quickly.
I stole glances at him.Sometimes he tucked his hair behind one ear, but mostly it hung loose around his face. Sometimes he had stubble,as if he were shaving every other day.Sometimes I was sure he could feel me staring.His lip would twitch,and I'd know he was about to turn toward me,so I would hurry and look at my paper.
And sometimes I would read the same sentence in the textbook over and over, and at the end of the hour, the only thing I'd learned was that Jack liked to tap his eraser on his desk when he was stumped, and when he would stretch forward,his shirt lifted,exposing a tiny bit of skin on his back. ~ Brodi Ashton

Out of the deep and the dark,



A sparkling mystery, a shape,



Something perfect,



Comes like the stir of the day:



One whose breath is an odour,



Whose eyes show the road to stars,



The breeze in his face,



The glory of Heaven on his back.



He steps like a vision hung in air,



Diffusing the passion of Eternity;



His abode is the sunlight of morn,



The music of eve his speech:



In his sight,



One shall turn from the dust of the grave,



And move upward to the woodland. ~ Yone Noguchi

He wished he knew how to make tea, wished he even had some to try with. That was what Miss June-bug wanted when she was feeling low, a good cup of tea, and it always seemed to brace her right up. ~ Linda Lael Miller

You're covered in blood too," Cristina murmured to Emma, shrugging off her own jacket. She slung it around Emma's shoulders, covering her bloody tank. She brushed her hands through Emma's hair, looking at her worriedly. "You sure you're not hurt?"
"Julian's blood," Emma whispered, and Cristina made a murmuring noise and pulled Emma into a hug. She patted Emma's back and Emma hung on to her for dear life and decided there and then that if anyone ever tried to hurt Cristina she would grind them to a pulp and make amusing sand castles out of the remains. ~ Cassandra Clare

Being born was the worse and the first mistake I ever made. The doctor didn't spank me, he just slapped me in the face. ~ Dolly Parton

The human brain operates on very low frequencies. For example when we're thinking actively we're generating 13 or 14 cycles per second, when we're meditating we're generating 8 cycles per second, and when we're asleep the brain waves are generating about 4 cycles per second. And HAARP is capable of generating all of these frequencies. These kinds of signals can control the human brain, and if you can control these frequencies and multiples of these frequencies and various combinations, you can control all kinds of emotions. You can generate happiness, you can generate sadness, you can generate any mood you want. ~ Patrick Flanagan

By being high, you become low and by being low, you become high. By being humble, you become high. ~ Choa Kok Sui

It is not humility to underrate yourself. Humility is to think of yourself as God thinks of you. It is to feel that if we have talents God has given them to us. And let it be seen that, like freight in a vessel, they tend to sink us low. The more we have, the lower we ought to lie. ~ Charles Spurgeon

I absolutely love low-key restaurants. ~ Andy Cohen

His mouth comes down on mine, harder now, more demanding, a raw, hungry need in him rising to the surface. "You belong to me," he growls. "Say it."
"Yes. Yes, I belong to you." His mouth finds mine again, demanding, taking, drawing me under his spell.
"Say it again," he demands, nipping my lip, squeezing my breast and nipple, and sending a ripple of pleasure straight to my sex.
"I belong to you," I pant.
He lifts me off the ground with the possessive curve of his hand around my backside, angling my hips to thrust harder, deeper. "Again," he orders, driving into me, his cock hitting the farthest point of me and blasting against sensitive nerve endings.
"Oh … ah … I … I belong to you."
His mouth dips low, his hair tickling my neck, his teeth scraping my shoulders at the same moment he pounds into me and the world spins around me, leaving nothing but pleasure and need and more need.
I am suddenly hot only where he touches, and freezing where I yearn to be touched. Lifting my leg, I shackle his hip, ravenous beyond measure, climbing to the edge of bliss, reaching for it at the same time I'm trying desperately to hold back. Chris is merciless, wickedly wild, grinding and rocking, pumping.
"I love you, Sara," he confesses hoarsely, taking my mouth, swallowing the shallow, hot breath I release, and punishing me with a hard thrust that snaps the last of the lightly held control I possess. Possessing me. A fire explodes low in my belly and spira ~ Lisa Renee Jones

Those with a high level of confidence may have as many or more weaknesses than those with low self-esteem. The difference is this; instead of dwelling on their handicaps, they compensate for them by dwelling on their strengths. ~ Alan Loy McGinnis

How could Digital's collapse be so precipitous? It's because, in many ways, financial performance data is misleading. As you move up to the top of the market, you're getting rid of the less profitable products at the low end and adding business with more attractive margins at the high end. The rate of unit volume growth might be tapering off as you pursue these smaller markets, but your margins actually look better. So Wall Street rewards your stock price until you hit the ceiling. ~ Clayton Christensen

Writers aren't in competition with one another. It isn't a zero sum game. If you have a good book, a good cover, a good product description, and a low price, you can sell well. ~ J.A. Konrath

I could hardly be responsible for my actions when everyone around me gave me every opportunity to sink to their low expectations. ~ Darynda Jones

For a long time, the film business was a single-digit business on investment return. Now, because of home video, it's a low double-digit business, and the studios want to make sure it doesn't go back into the single-digit business. ~ Charles Roven

Let me tell you, it is still morning in America. It just happens to be kind of a head pounding, hung over for four hours in America - and it's shaping up to be a nasty day, but its still morning in America. ~ Glenn Beck

In my work as an actress and an activist, I've spent many years working with low income communities and people of color who don't always have a voice in our political process. ~ Gloria Reuben

When I get the strength to leave, you always tell me that you need me. And I'm weak cause I believe you and I'm mad because I love you. So I stop and think that maybe you could learn to appreciate me, and it all remains the same that you ain't never gonna change. ~ Ashanti

The material was wrinkled, yet even in the low light it remembered the shape of two bodies. ~ Laura Whitcomb

A man never stoops so low as when he rises to the challenge of politics. ~ Hunter S. Thompson

The line I trace with my feet walking to the museum is more important and more beautiful than the lines I find there hung up on the walls. ~ Friedensreich Hundertwasser

Godlike erect, with native Honour clad In naked Majestie seemd Lords of all, And worthie seemd, for in thir looks Divine The image of thir glorious Maker shon, Truth, Wisdome, Sanctitude severe and pure, Severe, but in true filial freedom plac't; Whence true autoritie in men; though both Not equal, as thir sex not equal seemd; For contemplation hee and valour formd, For softness shee and sweet attractive Grace, Hee for God only, shee for God in him: His fair large Front and Eye sublime declar'd Absolute rule; and Hyacinthin Locks Round from his parted forelock manly hung Clustring, but not beneath his shoulders broad: Shee as a vail down to the slender waste Her unadorned golden tresses wore Dissheveld, but in wanton ringlets wav'd As the Vine curles her tendrils, which impli'd Subjection, but requir'd with gentle sway, And ~ John Milton

Now I was shocked! The old shibboleth, intelligence! Had not our government been culpable enough in pampering the high-IQ draftees as though they were too intelligent to fight for their country? Could not Doctor Gentle see that I was proud to be a scout, and before that a machine gunner? Intelligence, intelligence, intelligence. Keep it up, America, keep telling your youth that mud and danger are fit only for intellectual pigs. Keep on saying that only the stupid are fit to sacrifice, that America must be defended by the low-brow and enjoyed by the high-brow. Keep vaunting head over heart, and soon the head will arrive at the complete folly of any kind of fight and meekly surrender the treasure to the first bandit with enough heart to demand it. ~ Robert Leckie

That was the end of the dialogue, because, I remember distinctly, he barely had time to say "What about the bread?" That was all. After that there was nothing but flame and noise. The kind of noise you wouldn't have thought possible. Our eyes, ears, nose, and mouth were so full of that noise I thought it was all over and I'd turned into noise and flame myself.

After a while the flame went away, the noise stayed in my head, and my arms and legs trembled as if somebody were shaking me from behind. My limbs seemed to be leaving me, but then in the end they stayed on. The smoke stung my eyes for a long time, and the prickly smell of powder and sulphur hung on, strong enough to kill all the fleas and bedbugs in the whole world. ~ Louis Ferdinand Celine

No one wants to learn an instrument, Rachel. It's grueling repetition. And besides, you're too old to start. Concert violinists who learn the traditional way begin when they're six or seven."
Risa can't help but listen to the irritating conversation taking place between the well-dressed woman and her fashionably disheveled teenage daughter.
"It's bad enough they'd be messing in my brain and giving me a NeuroWeave," the girl whines. "But why do I have to have the hands, too? I like my hands!"
The mother laughs. "Honey, you've got your father's stubby, chubby little fingers. Trading up will only do you good in life, and it's common knowledge that a musical NeuroWeave requires muscle memory to complete the brain-body connection."
"There are no muscles in the fingers!" the girl announces triumphantly. "I learned that in school."
The mother gives her a long-suffering sigh.
"Think of them like a pair of gloves, Rachel. Fancy silk gloves, like a princess wears."
Risa can't stand it anymore. Making sure she's low enough so that her face can't be seen, she gets up, and as she walks past them, she says, "You'll have someone else's fingerprints. ~ Neal Shusterman

Incidentally, conservatives are attempting to destroy this system via "tort reform," the capping of damages at levels so low that the attorneys could no longer afford to function as police and prosecutors and the whole system would break down. Their motivation is to make the market "free" from the loss of profit through lawsuits for harming or defrauding the public. THE ~ George Lakoff

Men are hung up on breasts. They're looking at the titty dinner. It's pathetic. ~ Betty Dodson