Quotes About Sweat

There was pride in the shirt. There was sweat in the shirt. There was blood in the shirt.

The writer has two kinds of faith: actual writing and sitting openly. Have faith in your personal effort or sweat. And faith in God, or whatever you want to call it. Then the voices will come. Faith is the big deal.

I don't think there's anything wrong with a little sweat. I'm always moving, so it's normal for me, and it actually makes my curly hair better because it gives it a bit more texture and volume.

This is so dumb - once time I spray-tanned before a race, and I didn't shower, and I sweated the whole thing off on my car. It was so bad, I told a fan I would never do it again.

president drew on the third chapter of the Book of Genesis: "In the sweat of thy face," the Lord commanded, "shalt thou eat bread." Adam and Eve are being expelled from the Garden of Eden; the whole structure of the world as we know it was being formed in this moment. To work for one's own wealth, rather than taking wealth from others, was the will of God.

Adrenaline rushed through my veins, anarchic, atavistic, delicious, a sheen of sweat on my palms, tingles on my forearms, rage in my voice.

We have women working in the foundries, stripped to the waist, if you please, because of the heat.

The problem is, when you come back in you're sweating, so I wait until the very last minute before putting on my shirt so that it's not covered in sweat.

I don't wake up drenched in sweat because I haven't been on stage in years.

Working in a sugar mill is absolute misery for very little money.

At eleven that hot night everyone in Texas was awake because of the heat.

When I woke up from a forty-year sleep, it was by a song. I could hear the drums in the village. I felt the sweat of ancestors in each palm. The singers were singing the world into place, even as it continued to fall apart. They were making songs to turn hatred into love.

Labor was the right word for it. You surely do labor. Like pushing a wagon loaded with cement blocks uphill, three wheels stuck. Grunting, sweating, straining like a sow to give birth as it's called.

The atmosphere's warm and fervid. The scent of it wafts up in dense waves... sweat laced with perfume like smoke from an oven of burning human lusts.

Believe me, the man who earns his bread by the sweat of his brow, eats oftener a sweeter morsel, however coarse, than he who procures it by the labor of his brains.

she scrutinized Alesha's chrome dome. Great. She's captivated by the drops of sweat covering it. They're probably reflecting tiny rainbows all over the room. I'm a human disco ball, whee!

My sweat smells like peanut-butter.

Sweat was running down my face. The next turn wasn't too bad, and I noticed an old barn on the roadside, the roof caved-in, the windows empty holes, but I had already been distracted for too long, and the abyss came so close that I cried out. I

Your palms break sweat and you sit there, needy, while your work ethic and character are available for comment from strangers you wouldn't share a joint with at a blues festival.

Squeak sq-squeak sq-squeak: fifty tennis shoes jumping and skipping against the waxed wood floor. Dodgeball. Perfect. It smells like the armpits of Satan in here.

Ernest Hemingway said cycling was the best way to learn a country's contours because you physically experience them – you sweat up the hills and there's the sheer joy of coasting down the other side.

I smell like armpits.

When you kiss me, And ya miss me. You hold me tight, Make everything all right. I break out - in a cold sweat heh!

Blessed are the horny hands of toil!