Quotes About Sweat

Slavery, that was a kind of alchemy for such White folk, or so they reckoned. They calculated a way of turning each bead of a Black man's sweat into gold and each moan of despair from a Black woman's throat into the sweet clear sound of a silver coin ringing on the money-changer's table. There was buying and selling of souls in that place. Yet there was nary a one of them who understood the whole price they paid for owning other folk.

I'm so unfamiliar with the gym I call it James.

Winter is a lean, scrappy fighter. Spring blossoms from the sweat of Winter's brow.

Mythology has accepted him, images he cannot really believe in, images brief as dreams. The sweat rolls down his arms. He tumbles into the damp leaves of love, he rises clean as air. There is nothing about her he does not adore. When they are finished, she lies quiet and limp, exhausted by it all. She has become entirely his, and they lie like drunkards, their bare limbs crossed. In the cold distance the bells begin, filling the darkness, clear as psalms.

What dreadful hot weather we have! It keeps me in a continual state of inelegance.

A half hour later I was back in the very same parking space, feeling much more comfortable and twice as bored. I'd brought a book back with me, but it was hard to read and sweat at the same time, and sweating took precedence.

I remember the first time I smelled B.O. was at a cross-country meet. But it wasn't unpleasant, in a strange way. That's what you got when you worked hard.

I remember, as a kid, nothing struck me funnier than seeing Richard Nixon look into the camera and sincerely tell everyone he didn't know where the 18 minutes had gone from his tapes. But there was all this sweat on his upper lip. We knew he was lying. He knew we knew he was lying. But he was determined to tell the lie.

A dream doesn't become reality through magic; it takes sweat, determination and hard work.

This is God's work. It makes blisters and it makes sweat, but it's worth my time and it's worth your time....Working together as God's people in the world-I don't know of anything more rewarding.

My favorite four-letter words are 'hard work'.

Nobody ever drowned in his own sweat.

Labor is the great source from which nearly all, if not all, human comforts and necessities are drawn.

The results are the payoff. And all this sweating and hard work will be worth it.

Gardening requires lots of water... most of it in the form of perspiration.

Work is a four-letter word.

Playing golf is not hot work. Cutting sugar cane for a dollar a day - that's hot work. Hotter than my first wrist watch.

My favorite thing about running is running when it's as hot as it can be, which is a little odd.

at the end of a breathless day when the air seemed so heavy and full of molten light, everyone sweated drops of gold instead of brine.

I was familiar with the company of men: too familiar, I might have said then, for the elements I sensed in this room—bluster, braggadocio, and the sweat-scented ointment of city-nervous men in the throes of adventure-bound male bonding—had long since grown tiresome to me.

I hate the summer.

The air smelt of booze, sweat and cheap perfume - redolent of sex and danger. There was a kind of frontier recklessness about the atmosphere, Bond thought, and recognised its allure.

the problems of the human heart in conflict with itself which alone can make good writing because only that is worth writing about, worth the agony and the sweat.

Because there just aint nothing justifies the deliberate destruction of what a man has built with his own sweat and stored the fruit of his sweat into.