Whenever He answers prayers, God usually prioritizes those by people who, instead of their mouths, have prayed with their hands and/or feet.

~ Mokokoma Mokhonoana

Mokokoma Mokhonoana Act Action Aphorism Aphorisms Aphorist Aphorists Arm Arms Atheism Atheist Atheists Believer Believers Church Churches Churchgoer Churchgoers Congregation Congregations Daydream Daydreamer Daydreamers Do Doer Doers Fate Feet Foot Funny God Gods Hand Hands Hilarious Humor Humorous Humour Joke Jokes Karma Leg Legs Nonbeliever Nonbelievers Pagan Pray Prayed Prayer Prayers Praying Praying Man Praying Men Praying Woman Praying Women Prioritize Priority Quotations Quotes Religion Religions Satire Synagogue Synagogues Wish Wishful Thinking Worship Worshiper Worshipers Worshipper Worshippers

Between a plan and it’s achievement is a leader in the middle. With his one arm he makes the plan. With the other one he carries them through.

~ Israelmore Ayivor

Israelmore Ayivor Achievement Actions Arm Food For Thought Leader Leaders Leadership Middle Personal Development Plan Planning Plans Preparation Prepare Take Action Take Actions

The 2ams have held my hopes all these years as I calm my nerves down for there would only be three more hours for the world to wake up to my screams and wails of excruciating pain.Probably the drug store would open if I wait for three more hours then.8am and the doc would prescribe me a few medicines over whatsapp.I would make three cups of tea by then. I would quiet my mouth as it would bite on my arm.By twelve I would finally be relieved as the meds would work.But it's only midnight now... wish you another goodnight's sleep....

~ Sanhita Baruah

Sanhita Baruah Arm Bite Crying Disease Goodnight Illness Moaning Mouth Night Nightmares Pain Painful Quiet Sad Sick Sleep Tears Unwell Wailing

Strength to your arm, then.

~ George R.r. Martin

George R.r. Martin Arm Strength

It’s true what they say, that words are the true weapons. Those who fight with steel are limited to the strength of their arm, the reach of their blade, and the timing of their strike; but those who fight with persuasion know no limits – not time, nor status, nor chance.

~ A.j. Darkholme

A.j. Darkholme Arm Blade Change Energy Fight Influence Iron Limited Energy Limits Manipulation Mass Influence Mass Manipulation Others People Persuasion Reach Status Steel Strength Strike Sword Time Timing Truth Weapons Words

Never overestimate the strength of the torchbearer's arm, for even the strongest arms grow weary.

~ A.j. Darkholme

A.j. Darkholme Arm Awareness Burnout Determination Endurance Energy Lead Leader Leadership Leading Overestimate Overestimation Self Awareness Stamina Strength Strong Tired Torchbearer Understanding Weary

Are we taking the Subaru?”“No. We’ll run.”Running is not part of my plan. Stopping right here is my plan.“I’m not actually supposed to run,” I try to say. “The arm and everything.”“I’m sorry about your arm.”“Really?”He swoops me up as if I weigh nothing, leans me against his chest, and carries me the way grooms are supposed to carry brides over thresholds. He is cold now, away from the fire. He smells of mushrooms. “Are you afraid of heights?”He keeps my good arm against him, and doesn’t even jostle my cast arm. It’s smooth and quick and I don’t have time to ...He sets me down on the rolling ground in a large clearing in the middle of tall pine trees. My breath whooshes out like I’d been holding it.“Oh, that was amazing,” I say before I realize it.“You’re glowing. I thought you hated me.”“I do. But flying? I don’t hate flying. I read this book once where—”“You read?”“Yeah.”“Good. I like philosophy myself. It’s good to have a daughter who reads.”I swallow, shift my weight on my feet. They won’t be able to follow us here; we left no tracks. I can’t believe we flew. “Can all pixies fly? Because I was totally unprepared for that. I mean, I didn’t read that.”“Only ones with royal blood. You can.

~ Carrie Jones

Carrie Jones Arm Father Fly Hate Pixie King Read Run

Has Orc shown up here?” But neither Caine nor Diana answered. Both were staring at Drake, who sauntered toward them, all his cockiness restored, no longer the ragged scarecrow who had wept when he saw the melted stump of his hand lying on the tile floor. “Drake,” Caine said. “We thought you were dead.”“I’m back,” Drake said. “And better than ever.”The red tentacle unwrapped itself from around his waist, like a python releasing its victim.“Like it, Diana?” Drake asked.The arm, that impossible bloodred snake, coiled above Drake’s head, swirled, writhed. And then, so fast that the human eye could barely register the movement, it snapped like a bullwhip.The sound was a loud crack. A mini–sonic boom.Diana cried out in pain. Stunned, she stared at the cut in her blouse and the trickle of red from her shoulder.“Sorry,” Drake said with no attempt at sincerity. “I’m still working on my aim.”“Drake,” Caine said and, despite the blood, despite Diana’s wound, he grinned. “Welcome back.”“I brought some help,” Drake said. He extended his left hand, and Caine shook it awkwardly with his right. “So. When do we go take down Sam Temple?

~ Michael Grant

Michael Grant Alive Arm Caine Diana Drake Help Sadist Whip