Putting Your Foot In Your Mouth Quotes

If you keep your mouth shut you will never put your foot in it. ~ Austin O'Malley

Grief is a process to go through, not a destination in which to wallow. In a process, you keep putting one foot in front of the other, and each little step is part of your healing. ~ Phil McGraw

I scooted out of the laundry room and skipped down the hallway, arms flaying around my head like one of the hot pink puppets from the movie Labyrinth. "A scent and a sound, I'm lost and I'm found. And I'm hungry like the wolf. Something on a line, it's discord and rhyme - whatever, whatever, la la la - Mouth is alive, all running inside, and I'm hungry like the - " Warmth spread down my neck.

"It's actually, 'I howl and I whine. I'm after you,' and not blah or whatever."


Startled by the deep voice, I shrieked and whipped around. My foot slipped on a section of well-cleaned wood and my butt smacked on the floor.

"Holy crap," I gasped, clutching my chest. "I think I'm having a heart attack."

"And I think you broke your butt." Laughter filled Daemon's voice.

I remained sprawled across the narrow hallway, trying to catch my breath. "What the hell? Do you just walk into people's houses?"

"And listen to girls absolutely destroy a song in a matter of seconds? Well, yes, I make a habit out of it. Actually, I knocked several times, but I heard your…singing, and your door was unlocked." He shrugged.

"So I just let myself in."

"I can see that." I stood, wincing. "Oh, man, maybe I did break my butt."

"I hope not. I'm kind of partial to your butt." He flashed a smile. "Your face is pretty red. You sure you didn't smack that on the way down?"

I groaned. "I hate you. ~ Jennifer L. Armentrout

Can you sharpen this for me, please?"

Logan leaned across the table and took the pencil from him. "You want me to play with your pencil, Tate?"

"Hilarious. The sharpener is right by you. You just have to pick it up and slide it in."

As soon as the words left his mouth and Logan's quirked into an arrogant line, Tate bit his tongue.

"Really? Did you really just say that to me?"

Feeling more comfortable than ever with Logan and this group, Tate shrugged and nodded. Time to give it to Logan as good as he gives.

"Yeah. Is there a problem? You just line it up...and slide it in."

"You know, Tate - "

"Don't do it." Tate cut him off as he moved his foot, the one he'd had sitting between Logan's feet all night, so his shin bumped Logan's calf.

"Do what?"

"Say something dirty. I know you're dying to, but just sharpen the pencil."

Logan picked up the sharpener and made a big show of inserting the tip in the hole.

"Jesus," Shelly muttered from beside Logan. "I thought Rachel and Cole were bad. ~ Ella Frank

No, no, no, Landemere. This time I'm putting my foot down. I mean it. Don't think you're going to smear syrup on my beard, as we say in Ramaldah. You're not making me change my mind by sweet talking me. I know your tricks, and I won't fall for them. ~ Andrew Ashling

I AM ROWING (a hex poem)

i have cursed your forehead, your belly, your life
i have cursed the streets your steps plod through
the things your hands touch
i have cursed the inside of your dreams

i have placed a puddle in your eye so that you cant see anymore
an insect in your ear so that you cant hear anymore
a sponge in your brain so that you cant understand
anymore

i have frozen you in the soul of your body
iced you in the depths of your life
the air you breathe suffocates you
the air you breathe has the air of a cellar
is an air that has already been exhaled
been puffed out by hyenas

the dung of this air is something no one can breathe
your skin is damp all over
your skin sweats out waters of great fear
your armpits reak far and wide of the crypt

animals drop dead as you pass
dogs howl at night their heads raised toward your house
you cant run away
you cant muster the strength of an ant to the tip of your feet

your fatigue makes a lead stump in your body
your fatigue is a long caravan
your fatigue stretches out to the country of nan
your fatigue is inexpressible

your mouth bites you
your nails scratch you
no longer yours, your wife
no longer yours, your brother
the sole of his foot bitten by an angry snake

someone has slobbered on your descendents
someone has droo ~ Henri Michaux

Of course I'm ready. But are you ready for your part of our agreement?"
"Kereseth? Yeah," she said. "You get us in, we'll get him out."
"I want it done simultaneously--I don't want to risk him getting hurt because of what I'm doing," I said. "He's hushflower-resistant, so it will require quite a bit to knock him out. And he's a skilled fighter, so don't underestimate him."
Teka nodded, slowly. And stared, chewing the inside of her cheek.
"What happened? You look all…frantic, or something," she said. "You guys have a fight?"
I didn't answer.
"I don't get it," she said. "You're obviously in love with him, why do you want him gone?"
I considered not answering that, either. The feeling of his rough chin scratching my cheek, and his mouth, warm against my skin, haunted me still. He had kissed me. Without prompting, without cunning. I should have been happy, hopeful. But it wasn't that easy, was it?
I had dozens of reasons to give her. Akos was in danger, now that Ryzek had realized he could use him as leverage over me. Eijeh was lost, and maybe Akos would be able to accept that once he was home, with his mother and sister. Akos and I would never be equals, as long as he was Ryzek's prisoner here, so I had to make sure he was freed. But the one closest to my heart was the reason that came tumbling out.
"Being here, it's…breaking him," I said. I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, uncomfortable. "I can't watch anymore. I won't." ~ Veronica Roth

Either you have dreams or you live your dreams. I'm not all that remarkable. I just keep putting one foot in front of the other until I get to where I have to go. ~ Zoe Koplowitz

I was just, uh...looking at your bush. ~ Cassie Mae

What is sexual in a high heel is the arch of the foot, because it is exactly the position of a woman's foot when she orgasms ... So putting your foot in a heel, you are putting yourself in a possibly orgasmic situation. ~ Christian Louboutin

Trust the timing of your life. Keep focusing on putting one foot in front of the other, be kind, and follow your heart. Doors will open effortlessly, but first you have to be ready to walk through. ~ Brittany Burgunder

The Gap
You speak at 130 words per minute;
you think at 1,000.
That 870-word gap
between thinking and talking
is when you put our foot in your mouth. ~ Beryl Dov

You have to stop letting me do this," he bit off, half-angrily.
"If you'll stop leaning on me so that I can get my hands on a blunt object, I'll be happy to…!"
He kissed the words into oblivion. "It isn't a joke," he murmured into her mouth. His hips moved in a gentle, sensuous sweep against her hips. He felt her shiver.
"That's…new," she said with a strained attempt at humor.
"It isn't," he corrected. "I've just never let you feel it before." He kissed her slowly, savoring the submission of her soft, warm lips. His hands swept under the blouse and up under her breasts in their lacy covering. He was going over the edge. If he did, he was going to take her with him, and it would damage both of them. He had to stop it, now, while he could. "Is this what Colby gets when he comes to see you?" he whispered with deliberate sarcasm.
It worked. She stepped on his foot as hard as she could with her bare instep. It surprised him more than it hurt him, but while he recoiled, she pushed him and tore out of his arms. Her eyes were lividly green through her glasses, her hair in disarray. She glared at him like a female panther.
"What Colby gets is none of your business! You get out of my apartment!" she raged at him.
She was magnificent, he thought, watching her with helpless delight. There wasn't a man alive who could cow her, or bend her to his will. Even her drunken, brutal stepfather hadn't been able to force her to do something she didn't want to do ~ Diana Palmer

it's always less pleasant to taste your foot than to see someone put theirs in their mouth. ~ Gorg Huff

Thought I saw you on the beach this morning...Thought I saw you standing on the white strand, your back to the wind. The rain had stopped and there was a brisk clarity in the air. You watched me over your left shoulder, head tucked in coyly. Seabirds flying low in the sky, and the grey-green waves at your foot. A whole panorama thrown up behind you.

I was on the coast road coming back from the shops. I stopped walking once I caught sight of you. You were wearing a reefer jacket with the collar turned up against the weather. It might have been navy, but it looked black in the distance. As did your trousers. As did your shoes. All of you was black except your face and hair. You wore no hat...Never once saw you in Winter clothes, yet there you were as clear as day for a whole moment. Only your eyes were visible above the upturned collar. Your hair was in your eyes. You watched me through those pale strands. And I watched you. Intently.

The man from down the road drove by in his faded red car. He was going the other way, so he didn't offer a lift. He just waved. I waved back. And then I turned to you again, and we looked at each other a little longer. Very calm. Heart barely shifted. Too far away to see your features. No matter. There was salt on your face. Sea salt. It was in your hair. It was on your mouth. It was all over you, as though you gazed at me through ice. And it was all over me. It tingled on my skin.

After a time I moved off, and you ~ Claire Kilroy

You're in there somewhere." He tapped at her collarbone. "You'll pop out again when-Well,when the time is right. But for now,you've slipped entirely inside your past. Like a cute little turtle in a borrowed shell.Except it's more than that.When you're in Lys's body, your very beings are entwined, so all sorts of good stuff comes with the package.Her memories,her passions,her manners-lucky for you.Of course,you also have to grapple with her shortcomings.This one,if I recall,puts her foot in her mouth with some regularity.So watch out."
"Amazing," Luce whispered. "So if I could just find Daniel,I'd be able to feel exactly what she feels toward him."
"Sure,I guess,but you do realize that once I snap my fingers,Lys has obligations at this ball that don't include Daniel.This isn't really his scene,and by that I mean,no way the guards would let a poor stable boy in here."
Luce didn't care about any of that. Poor stable boy or not,she would find him. She couldn't wait. Inside Lys's body she could even hold him, maybe even kiss him.The anticipation of it was almost overwhelming.
"Hello?" Bill flicked a hard finger against her temple. "You ready yet? Get in there,see what you can see-then get out while the getting's good, if you know what I mean."
Luce nodded.She straightened Lsys's black gown and held her head a little higher. "Snap to it."
"And...go." Bill snapped his fingers. ~ Lauren Kate

Pretty,eh?"
I jumped a foot. "Nonna!"
She was standing in my doorway, beaming like a demented gnome. "For your underwater dance."
"It looks like....a toga."
"Toga," she sniffed as she stalked across the room to lift the dress from its hanger, "is for boys at silly parties. This is for a goddess." She held it up to me. "You will be Salacia, Roman goddess of water."
It still looked like a toga, and not a very big one, although it did almost reach the floor. My legs would be covered, which was all well and good, except that, other than going a little too long without defuzzing, I didn't have much of a problem with my legs. I did know this wasn't going to work. I just had no idea at the moment how I was going to make it not happen.
"This is awfully...pagan of you, Nonna."
She rolled her eyes. "Ai, sixteen, with the smart mouth and such certainty. You think I just read the Bible? A goddess, she has more fun than a saint."
"Nonna!"
"Ah!" She poked me in the center of the chest with her middle finger. "Fun, si, but a bad end if she thinks to hold the heart of a boy who wants only to play. Salacia, she let Neptune chase her and chase her and prove his heart was true."
I didn't argue. My grasp of Greco-Roman mythology is shaky at best, and derived mostly from the Percy Jackson books. I had my doubts about Neptune's heart, but figured it would only be smart-assy to mention that to my grandmother. ~ Melissa Jensen

Can he keep from throwing his hissy fit until he gets to the cauldron?"
"I don't know. You're not impressed by his warp spasm, huh?"
He grimaced. "It's abhorrent. Total loss of control. No beauty to it, no symmetry. His eye was hanging out on his cheek like some piece of snot. No, I'm not impressed."
"I can try to keep a lid on him until we get to the cauldron." I made a pun, but he wasn't in the mood to notice.
"No."
"What do you mean no?"
"No, you're not going with him."
I crossed my arms. "Who decided that?"
He put on his "I'm alpha and I'm putting my foot down" expression. "I decided."
"You don't get to decide. I'm not under your authority."
"Yes, you are. Without you the fight will happen, but without me and the Pack, it won't. I command the superior force, therefore I'm in charge. You and your army of one can put yourself under my authority or you can take a walk."
"You don't think I can do it, is that it?"
"No, I want you where I can see you."
"Why?"
His lip quivered with the beginning of a snarl. His face relaxed, as he brought himself under control. "Because that's how I want it," he said, using a slow, patience voice reserved for rowdy children and disagreeable mental patients. It drove me to the edge of reason. I really wanted to punch him. ~ Ilona Andrews

Suddenly, he's aware of something pushing onto his lap. The stupid monkey.
"Give him a cuddle," Valentine says. He's slid his thumb to the corner of his mouth so he can talk, but it still sounds slurry from the way he's holding it, so it won't fall out. "He'll stop you being all grumpy and stressed. He smells nice."
"It smells like its rotting," Lindsay says. He picks the thing up and sits it on the steering wheel so he can get a better look at it, trying not to touch its saliva-drenched foot.
"No he don't. He smells like being sleepy, and hiding under your covers when everybody's pissed off and shouting. He smells like what it feels like being all warm and safe under your covers."
Lindsay brings the thing to his face to give it an experimental sort of sniff. "Wrong. It smells like your spit." And his shampoo, and sort of musty, and something indefinable but unmistakable that makes him think of the way Valentine looks first think in the morning, when his hair's sticking up every which way and he's frowning slightly on opening his eyes like he can't remember where he is. He reaches over to tuck the monkey back between the kid's knees. ~ Richard Rider

Let me just say that, if you ever have the choice of putting your words in powerpoint or having them carved into 30-foot high marble, I'd say go for the marble. ~ Peter Norvig

In my mind, there's a time and a place for putting your foot down. ~ Jay Kay

Little girls are the nicest things that can happen to people. They are born with a bit of angel-shine about them, and though it wears thin sometimes, there is always enough left to lasso your heart - even when they are sitting in the mud, or crying temperamental tears, or parading up the street in Mother's best clothes.

A little girl can be sweeter (and badder) oftener than anyone else in the world. She can jitter around, and stomp, and make funny noises that frazzle your nerves, yet just when you open your mouth, she stands there demure with that special look in her eyes. A girl is Innocence playing in the mud, Beauty standing on its head, and Motherhood dragging a doll by the foot.

God borrows from many creatures to make a little girl. He uses the song of a bird, the squeal of a pig, the stubbornness of a mule, the antics of a monkey, the spryness of a grasshopper, the curiosity of a cat, the speed of a gazelle, the slyness of a fox, the softness of a kitten, and to top it all off He adds the mysterious mind of a woman.

A little girl likes new shoes, party dresses, small animals, first grade, noisemakers, the girl next door, dolls, make-believe, dancing lessons, ice cream, kitchens, coloring books, make-up, cans of water, going visiting, tea parties, and one boy. She doesn't care so much for visitors, boys in general, large dogs, hand-me-downs, straight chairs, vegetables, snowsuits, or staying in the front yard.

She is loudest wh ~ Alan Beck

You think this is some sort of comedy going on here?" Collins gave him his tough stare.
A little red spark flared in Barabas's eyes. "Excuse me." He struck with preternatural quickness and yanked a five-foot snake from the counter, an inch away from Tsoi's elbow. Tsoi jumped, clearing half the room in a single bound. The snake body flailed in my lawyer's fist. Barabas jerked the snake to his mouth and bit its neck.
"Jesus Christ!" Collins took a step back. Tsoi clamped her hand over her mouth.
Barabas spat the head onto the counter. "Pit viper - my favorite. Where were we? Ah, yes. You were trying to intimidate me. I apologize for the interruption. Please, resume your staring. ~ Ilona Andrews

Tall, way taller than her five foot five frame, his body bulged with muscles covered in tanned skin. He possessed layered down brown hair with gold highlights, vivid turquoise eyes and chiseled features, including a strong straight nose
surprising because with a taunting mouth like his she expected he'd gotten it broken more than once in his life
a square chin, and wickedly full lips that now quirked into a grin.
-"Enjoying the view?" he taunted.
-"Deciding what part to carve off your body first," she replied."Do you have a name by the way? Or should I just refer to you as 'that asshole'?"
-"You can call me Remy, but when I get your thighs around my neck, feel free to call me God. It totally pisses Lucifer's brother off, which means brownie points for me. ~ Eve Langlais

Sometimes you just have to be brave. You have to be strong. Sometimes you just can't give in to weak thoughts. You have to beat down those devils that get inside your head and try to make you panic. You struggle along, putting one foot a little bit ahead of the other, hoping that when you go backwards it won't be too far backwards, so that when you start going forwards again you won't have too much to catch up ~ James Marsden

Someone once said that the challenge of living is to develop a long obedience in the same direction. When it's demanded, we can rise on occasion and be patient . . . as long as there are limits. But we balk when patience is required over a long haul. We don't much like endurance. It's painful to persevere through a marriage that's forever struggling. A church that never crest 100 members. Housekeeping routines that never vary from week-to-week. Even caring for an elderly parent or a handicapped child can feel like a long obedience in the same direction.

If only we could open our spiritual eyes to see the fields of grain we're planting, growing, and reaping along the way. That's what happens when we endure...

Right now you may be in the middle of a long stretch of the same old routine.... You don't hear any cheers or applause. The days run together―and so do the weeks. Your commitment to keep putting one foot in front of the other is starting to falter.

Take a moment and look at the fruit. Perseverance. Determination. Fortitude. Patience.

Your life is not a boring stretch of highway. It's a straight line to heaven. And just look at the fields ripening along the way. Look at the tenacity and endurance. Look at the grains of righteousness. You'll have quite a crop at harvest . . . so don't give up! ~ Joni Eareckson Tada

Have you ever done something that you were really ashamed of? I mean somehing so bad you felt sick just thinking about it?'
'Everyone has. Why, what'd you do?'
'I didn't say goodbye to Mum.'
'That's not so bad.'
'Did you say goodbye to your mum before she left?' I'd never asked Martin about this before. I didn't want to hear the answer.
'She left before I had a chance.'
'Oh.'
'That's what I like about you, Faltrain.You always know just what to say. ~ Cath Crowley

Was it for pleasure that you followed them
Putting off your slippers at the door
To dance barefoot and blood-foot in the snow?
No.

What then? What glamoured you? No glamour at all;
Only that I remembered I was young
And had to put myself into a song.
How could time bear witness that I was tall,
Silken, and made for love, if I did not so?
I do not know.

- Earl Cassilis's Lady ~ Sylvia Townsend Warner

Lillian concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, when all she wanted was to head back to Westcliff and fling herself upon him in a mindless attack. "That arrogant, pompous clodpole - "
"Easy," she heard St. Vincent murmur. "Westcliff is in a thorough temper - and I wouldn't care to engage him in your defense. I can best him any day with a sword, but not with fists."
"Why not?" Lillian muttered. "You've got a longer reach than Westcliff."
"He's got the most vicious right hook I've ever encountered. And I have an unfortunate habit of trying to shield my face - which frequently leaves me open for gut punches."
The unashamed conceit behind the statement drew a reluctant laugh from Lillian. As the heat of anger faded, she reflected that with a face like his, one could hardly blame him for desiring to protect it. "Have you fought with the earl often?" she asked.
"Not since we were boys at school. Westcliff did everything a bit too perfectly - I had to challenge him now and then just to make certain that his vanity didn't become overinflated. Here…shall we take a more scenic route through the garden?"
Lillian hesitated, recalling the numerous stories that she had heard about him. "I'm not certain that would be wise."
St. Vincent smiled. "What if I promise on my honor not to make any advances to you?"
Considering that, Lillian nodded. "In that case, all right."
St. Vincent guided her through a small leafy grove, and ~ Lisa Kleypas

At some unseen signal the long line of guards around me stopped and their spears thudded to the floor with a noise that sounded like doom.
Then a tall figure with a long black cloak walked past us, plumed and coroneted helm carried in his gloved right hand. For a moment I didn't recognize the Marquis; somewhere along the way he'd gotten rid of his anonymous clothing and was now clad in a long black battle tunic, Remalna's crowned sun stitched on its breast. At his side hung his sword; his hair was braided back. He passed by without so much as a glance at me. His eyes were slack lidded, his expression bored.
He stopped before a dais, on which was a throne made of carved wood--a piece of goldwood so beautifully veined with golds and reds and umbers it looked like fire--and bowed low.
I was tempted to try hopping on my one good foot in order to get a glimpse of the enemy on the throne, but I didn't--and a moment later was glad I hadn't, for I saw the flash of a ring as Galdran waved carelessly at the guards. The four in front promptly stepped to each side, affording a clear field of vision between the King and me. I saw a tall, massively built man whose girth was running to portliness. Long red hair with gems braided into it, large nose, large ears, high forehead, pale blue eyes. He wore a long, carefully cultivated mustache. His mouth stretched in a cruel smile.
"So you won your wager, Shevraeth, eh?" he said. The tone was jovial, but there was an ugly edge ~ Sherwood Smith

There's a different kind of comfort that comes from knowing that you are putting your best foot forward. It's called psychological comfort. Look at a picture of the Coney Island boardwalk in 1925. Men were in full-on three-piece suits, hats. They may have only had one suit. But they pressed it. They made it look as good as possible. ~ Tom Ford

It is far easier to live an excellent life among your friends, when you are putting your best foot forward and are conscious of public opinion, than it is to live for Christ in your home. ~ Billy Graham

I know how easy it is to put your foot in your mouth. ~ Kevin Hart

She thumped her weapon (others might call it a cane, but he
knew better) against the floor. "Fell off your horse?"
"No, I - "
"Tripped down the stairs? Dropped a bottle on your foot?" Her
expression grew sly. "Or does it involve a woman?"
He fought the urge to cross his arms. She was looking up at him
with a bit of a smirk. She liked poking fun at her companions; she'd
once told him that the best part of growing old was that she could
say anything she wanted with impunity.
He leaned down and said with great gravity, "Actually, I was
stabbed by my valet."
It was, perhaps, the only time in his life he'd managed to stun
her into silence.
Her mouth fell open, her eyes grew wide, and he would have
liked to have thought that she even went pale, but her skin had such
an odd tone to begin with that it was hard to say. Then, after a
moment of shock, she let out a bark of laughter and said, "No,
really. What happened?"
"Exactly as I said. I was stabbed." He waited a moment, then
added, "If we weren't in the middle of a ballroom, I'd show you."
"You don't say?" Now she was really interested. She leaned in,
eyes alight with macabre curiosity. "Is it gruesome?"
"It was," he confirmed.
She pressed her lips together, and her eyes narrowed as she
asked, "And where is your valet now?"
"At Chatteris House, likely nicking a glass of my best brandy."
She let out anoth ~ Julia Quinn

O yes youwl want to think on that you dont want your mouf to walk you where your feet dont want to go. ~ Russell Hoban

There must be quite a few things a hot bath won't cure, but I don't know many of them. Whenever I'm sad I'm going to die, or so nervous I can't sleep, or in love with somebody I won't be seeing for a week, I slump down just so far and then I say: 'I'll go take a hot bath.'
I meditate in the bath.The water needs to be very hot, so hot you can barely stand putting your foot in it. Then you lower yourself, inch by inch, till the water's up to your neck.
I remember the ceiling over every bathtub I've stretched out in. I remember the texture of the ceilings and the cracks and the colors and the damp spots and the light fixtures. I remember the tubs, too: the antique griffin-legged tubs, and the modern coffin-shaped tubs, and the fancy pink marble tubs overlooking indoor lily ponds, and I remember the shapes and sizes of the water taps and the different sorts of soap holders.
I never feel so much myself as when I'm in a hot bath. ~ Sylvia Plath

Even though they're often doing it out of love and concern, having others smear their fear and worry all over you is the last thing you need when you're strengthening your superhero muscles to step out and take some risks, so I highly recommend keeping your mouth shut around people who are gonna bring you down. Instead, seek out those who are already totally kicking butt (or who are lifting up their foot to do so), or people who you know will be supportive, and confide in them. Because you'll have your own internal freak show to deal with as you try to overcome the objections from your own BS. ~ Jen Sincero

I really like to watch a porn, but mostly my dream is to fuck a woman. It's interesting to see how her lips touch your dick, I'm sure that the feeling, incrediable. But this isn't anything with she to have orgasm! To watch you right in the face, right in the eyes is interesting and not freaky, but it's more awesome to be such position to be in orgasm + to suck your cock gently. It's interesting, how woman watch the end proccess of jerk off, how they lick the dick like it's hot and they want to make it cold!
Ooh, that's one of my favourite faces how the sperm from the dick goes right on the face. It's really interesting the dick to be more large and big from a woman foot and hands, even from her mouth that's one of my favourite parts in the porn. It's interesting to look the dick like a pussy cat or more awesome the dick to goes slowly in the pussy! When a woman is getting fucked she to laugh that's the interesting part. ~ Deyth Banger

At the door, I looked back at all those people I didn't know and thought about how small your heart is but how big of a space it takes up. And how, even though you can't see it, that heart space grows so quietly across a room or up some stairs into someone else's living room, that even if you never step foot in it again, the air in there is changed forever. ~ Jennifer Gooch Hummer