The Barefoot Sisters Quotes

If you turn left at the next logging road, he said, and walk a quarter of a mile, you come to a dock on a lake, with an air horn hanging off it. You honk the air horn, and someone comes and picks you up in a boat, and they take you to this place where there's pizza and showers and cold beer! ~ Lucy Letcher

Megan was able to get me the single most important item in this entire house."
"She got you that new vibrator?"
"Jesus ... "
"Oh, the cookbook, right," he said, remembering.
Megan used to work for the Food Network, and was able to secure me a signed copy of the original Barefoot Contessa cookbook. ~ Alice Clayton

…And I know you are tired, love. I know the ache lodged in your bones. I know it has been a long road and you yearn for rest and comfort and home. But I've also seen you twirling, barefoot in the grass by moonlight. And that moon? She is dancing with the sun and this wild spinning earth, coaxing the ocean to crash on the shore, over and over again, just for you. And I know there are stars traveling unfathomable distances and burning to dust when they enter our atmosphere so that you can breathe a little bit of light into your soul when you need it the most. ~ Jeanette LeBlanc

The wave of pure outrage blindsided me. I shouldn't be here, I thought. This is utterly fucked up. I should have been sitting in a garden down the road, barefoot with a drink in my hand, swapping the day's work stories with Peter and Jamie. I had never thought about this before, and it almost knocked me over: all the things we should have had. We should have stayed up all night together studying and stressing out before exams, Peter and I should have argued over who got to bring Jamie to our first dance and slagged her about how she looked in her dress. We should have come weaving home together, singing and laughing and inconsiderate, after drunken college nights. We could have shared a flat, taken off Interrailing around Europe, gone arm-in-arm through dodgy fashion phases and low-rent gigs and high-drama love affairs. Two of us might have been married by now, given the other one a godchild. I had been robbed blind. ~ Tana French

Walking is the number one exercise for your feet as well as your body. Barefoot walking is the ideal. ~ Stephanie Tourles

He ran barefoot across the springy floor of the pine forest; he was dancing with the earth. ~ Richard Weihe

We were about a mile from school, on a path in the park, when Chirag reached down and took off his shoes, tossing them into the trees beside us.

"What are you doing?" I shouted in between breaths. Step, breath. Step, breath. He was a few yards ahead of me. I took advantage of his pause to pass him; I wasn't about to let him beat me.

"There's a tribe of Indians in Mexico who are the best runners in the world," he shouted. "They run barefoot for miles and miles and never break a sweat."

"You're not that kind of Indian," I shouted back, and Chirag laughed, his golden skin shimmering beneath his sweat.

"You should try it, too!"

"No way!" I replied without turning around to face him. "The ground is filthy. There could be glass or splinters or something."

"Aw, come on, Maisie," he cooed, coming up on my left side and getting a few steps ahead of me once more. "I dare you. ~ Alyssa B. Sheinmel

It was freezing, but the cold effortlessly numbed my feet and aching hands. I walked quietly, barefoot, to the end of the block, leaving my shoes behind to remind me how to find my way home. ~ Jenny Lawson

Perhaps in the stillness of a summer night they will feel compelled to walk barefoot down a moonlit country
road and search for the magic that connects all beings in the Circle of Life. ~ Autumn Morning Star

She spotted him about twenty yards away at a table that sat among a stand of river birch, its four legs submerged in an inch or two of water. Clustered around the table were ten or so of the most wild-looking, barely clothes, heavily muscled men and women she'd ever seen. And at the head, standing on a branch a foot about them all was Parish. He was barefoot and tanned, and wearing only a pair of faded jeans, which rested just below his hipbones. His hair was wild and the scar near his mouth winked in the sunlight. Julia's gaze moved covetously over every inch of him. His narrow waist and ripped stomach that widened to a broad chest, powerful shoulders and lean, muscular arms. he looked ready to spring. And the muscles in Julia's belly turned to liquid fire as she watched him watch her. ~ Alexandra Ivy

Here is the solitude from which you are absent.
It is raining. The sea wind is hunting stray gulls.
The water walks barefoot in the wet streets. From that tree the leaves complain as though they were sick.
White bee, even when you are gone, you live in my soul. You live again in time, slender and silent.
Ah, you who are silent. ~ Pablo Neruda

I think the perception of me can be, you know, confused. But that's only because people only see that side of me when I'm at work, in front of the camera. So they don't see Miranda at home; they don't see behind the scenes. They see the glamour of it all but they don't see Miranda standing barefoot in a dirty old house. ~ Miranda Kerr

You don't see no city when you look at me cause country's all I am. I love runnin' barefoot through the old cornfields and I love that country ham. Well you say I'm made just to fit your plans but there's a barnyard shovel pick your hands. If your eyes are on me you're lookin' at country. ~ Loretta Lynn

I'll tell you, it's only when I learned to accept that I was a lot like my mother the tI began to be happier. I suspect you'll find that to be true yourself. Our mothers are the most influential in making us who we are. As long as you regard your mother with distaste, it's not possible to view yourself charitably, with the kindness and seft-acceptance so essential to personal happiness." - Barefoot ~ Kathleen McCleary

The bread which you do not use is the bread of the hungry; the garment hanging in your wardrobe is the garment of him who is naked; the shoes that you do not wear are the shoes of the one who is barefoot; the money that you keep locked away is the money of the poor; the acts of charity that you do not perform are so many injustices that you commit." That's a challenging ~ Kerry Weber

He felt like a pilgrim standing on the shores of Lake Sahara, having walked barefoot over hundreds of miles, yet all the hardships forgotten, filled with only wonder and reverence at the marvel of it all. ~ Sherry Thomas

Despina can be reached in two ways: by ship or by camel. The city displays one face to the traveler arriving overland and a different one to him who arrives by sea.

When the camel driver sees, at the horizon of the tableland, the pinnacles of the skyscrapers come into view, the radar antennae, the white and red wind-socks flapping, the chimneys belching smoke, he thinks of a ship; he knows it is a city, but he thinks of it as a vessel that will take him away from the desert, a windjammer about to cast off, with the breeze already swelling the sails, not yet unfurled, or a steamboat with its boiler vibrating in the iron keel; and he thinks of all the ports, the foreign merchandise the cranes unload on the docks, the taverns where crews of different flags break bottles over one another's heads, the lighted, ground-floor windows, each with a woman combing her hair.

In the coastline's haze, the sailor discerns the form of a camel's withers, an embroidered saddle with glittering fringe between two spotted humps, advancing and swaying; he knows it is a city, but he thinks of it as a camel from whose pack hang wine-skins and bags of candied fruit, date wine, tobacco leaves, and already he sees himself at the head of a long caravan taking him away from the desert of the sea, toward oases of fresh water in the palm trees' jagged shade, toward palaces of thick, whitewashed walls, tiled courts where girls are dancing barefoot, moving their arms, half-hidden by thei ~ Italo Calvino

I always like to sing barefoot, but when I first started doing these dates with the symphonies, I of course thought I should clean up my act, being a Jewish girl from Long Island with a little bit of a trucker mouth. So I wore a gown and some high heels. ~ Idina Menzel

Only later I felt that poetry is like feeling another person lying next to you in the dark. Do you believe in poetry, in the spirit of poetry? I could see poetry in ballads, in the picture of the cathedral on the back of the postcard that my father sent my mother from London, in glaciers, peaks of mountains, river dust, Ian McEwan's covers of his books, cheap thrillers. Running gave me a gravitational pull. Running was my mother love. I was barefoot. There I was dressed in white. Matchstick legs. Hair standing up. I did not feel like a zero. I did not feel like a lost oar, unloved and unwanted, like a plant that needed water. A fleet of paper ships that needed to be mourned. I often felt homesick for the country of my mother. ~ Abigail George

All these years I've been ... I'm ... ' He still seemed to be choking. 'I'm ... an orphan. I'm ... I'm alone. I'm ... I'm ... I'm ... free.' He pushed himself up on one elbow, staring at his hands as if for the first time they had become his own. 'I can ... I can do anything. I can leave Jealousy! I can break my spectacles and run off barefoot to become a ... a ... cobbler! I can ... I can marry my housekeeper! Do I have a housekeeper? I never had time to notice! But now I can get a housekeeper! And marry her! ~ Frances Hardinge

Angelique, with both hands open, lying limply on her knees, was giving herself. And Felicien remembered the evening on which she had run barefoot through the grass, so adorable that he had pursued her, and whispered in her ear, "I love you". And he understood full well that only now had she replied, with the same cry, "I love you." And he understood full well that only now had she replied, with the same cry, "I love you", the eternal cry that had finally emerged from her wide-open heart. "I love you... Take me, carry me away, I am yours. ~ Emile Zola

Our gardening forebears meant watermelon to be the juicy, barefoot taste of a hot summer's end, just as a pumpkin is the trademark fruit of late October. Most of us accept the latter, and limit our jack-o'-latern activities to the proper botanical season. Waiting for a watermelon is harder. It's tempting to reach for melons, red peppers, tomatoes, and other late-summer delights before the summer even arrives. But it's actually possible to wait, celebrating each season when it comes, not fretting about its being absent at all other times because something else good is at hand. ~ Barbara Kingsolver

He knows it is a city, but he thinks of it as a camel from whose pack hang wineskins and bags of candies fruit, date wine, tobacco leaves, and already he sees himself as the head of a long caravan taking him away from the desert of the sea, toward oases of fresh water in the palm trees' jagged shade, toward palaces of thick, whitewashed walls, tiled courts where girls are dancing barefoot, moving their arms, half-hidden by their veils, half-revealed. ~ Italo Calvino

worry about Dawna, we'll keep her out of circulation." Raymond emerged from the master bedroom, pulling his shirt on. He was still barefoot, wearing his wrinkled chinos from the night before. ~ Sue Grafton

Rice
Greyness masks the giving sun,
Cool air snakes between my thighs,
Dragonflies alight in heeded flight,
As monsoon floods the paddy's eyes.
I step barefoot on the spongy mud
Which tugs back upon my sole
My journey etched in reddish clay
Mapped out from source to goal.
Winds murmur of a change of plan
And unveil the playful sun.
I put new footprints in my footprints
And begin again where I've begun. ~ Beryl Dov

Truth be told, you gotta dance barefoot if you really want to feel the earth move. ~ Edward R. Hackemer

I've lived in the Hamptons since 1978, when I first bought my store Barefoot Contessa. ~ Ina Garten

Any man who would walk five miles through the snow, barefoot, just to return a library book so he could save three cents - that's my kind of guy. ~ Jack Benny

For Adam, screwed-up bonding thing or not, I'd wait forever.
"Really?" he asked in a tone I'd never heard from him before. Softer. Vulnerable. Adam didn't do vulnerable.
"Really what?" I asked.
"Despite the way our bond scares you, despite the way someone in the pack played you, you'd still have me?"
He'd been listening to my thoughts. This time it didn't bother me.
"Adam," I told him, "I'd walk barefoot over hot coals for you. ~ Patricia Briggs

Becky walked to the sea late in the day, trod barefoot among the tumbled blocks of stone that lined the foreshore, smelling the old harsh smell of salt, hearing the water slap and chuckle while from high above came the endless sinister trickling of the cliffs. Into her consciousness stole, maybe for the first time, the sense of loneliness; an oppression born of the gentle miles of summer water, the tall blackness of the headlands, the fingers of the stone ledges pushing out into the sea. ~ Keith Roberts

It was like stepping barefoot on a sharp bit of broken glass. She pulled the glass out and ran on, but the pain remained. ~ Kristin Hannah

You call yourself a gentleman, yet you stare at me." "I never called myself a gentleman." "You are a gentleman and you still stare." "If I do, the fault is your own. You are a complicated lass, Lael Click." She set the dishes down with a clatter. Complicated? She wouldn't ask him to explain himself. She didn't have to. He leaned back against a porch post, stretched his legs, and crossed his shiny black boots. "You went tae one of the finest finishing schools in the colonies, yet I find you barefoot and bonnetless and making social calls tae Indians, wi' your hair down tae boot. And unchaperoned, as weel. ~ Laura Frantz

The devil was smaller and rather younger than I would have guessed. He danced barefoot around the fire as he stoked it in preparation for my torment. The fiend wore a tunic of rough linen, leaves and sticks clinging to it, and a bycocket hat with a single feather in the style of bow hunters back home in Blighty. Bit of a ginger fringe. Scrawny and pathetic, really, for the prince of bloody darkness. ~ Christopher Moore

When you feel small and invisible
or stretched-too-thin-and-all-used up,
when life feels too hard to live
and pain feels too much to bear,
when guilt and shame and
self-condemnation feel too heavy to carry,
go outside and stand barefoot
in the stardust-speckled dirt
with your face tilted up to the universe
and whisper to your wounded heart,
'This is not how my story ends.
There is so much more to life than this moment,
these hours, this day, this season of my life.
It's my story. I get to choose.
It doesn't end here;'
And then take your pen in hand
and write the rest of your gorgeous,
shredded, pasted-back-together story
however you choose to write it.
And remember, you're not alone.
We're all writing our own jacked up stories
our own way, too.
Welcome to our tribe of misfits and outcasts
and rebels and dreamers.
We are the story-weavers.
And we're all on this ride through the galaxy together. ~ L.R. Knost

Hippy is an establishment label for a profound, invisible, underground, evolutionary process. For every visible hippy, barefoot, beflowered, beaded, there are a thousand invisible members of the turned-on underground. Persons whose lives are tuned in to their inner vision, who are dropping out of the TV comedy of American Life. ~ Timothy Leary

The dream is not a map. A poem is not the territory. The dreamer reclines in a barbershop carpeted with Afro turf. In the dark some soul yells. It hurts to walk barefoot on cowrie shells. ~ Harryette Mullen

I don't walk barefoot. When I see a girl barefoot in the street ... I'm like, 'Really?' But obviously, I can't judge someone for that first impression. ~ Juan Pablo Galavis

You may like walking barefoot, but keep your shoes with you; you may need it when the ground changes! ~ Mehmet Murat Ildan

I can go barefoot." He chuckles. "You could. But have you looked under the camera box?" "Under?" I go back to the table and pull out the box. Sure enough, there's something else there, wrapped in blue tissue paper. I look at him, but his expression gives nothing away. Slowly, I pull out the tissue paper. Whatever's hidden is flat and firm. I peel back the paper until I reveal a pair of black flip-flops. I look up at Damien and grin. "For walking on the beach," he says. "Thank you." "Anything you want. Anything you need. ~ J. Kenner