Heels Motivational Quotes

If you want to run for Prime Minister, you can. If you don’t, that’s wonderful, too. Shave your armpits, don’t shave them, wear flats one day, heels the next. These things are so irrelevant and surface to what it is all really about, and I wish people wouldn’t get caught up in that. We want to empower women to do exactly what they want, to be true to themselves, to have the opportunities to develop.

It's time to shop high heels if your fiance kisses you on the forehead.

Delk shifted in his chair, the arrow point never wavering. "What do you want?" "Oh, the usual.World peace, a pair of Christian Louboton heels, a perfect wedding.

...Or we can blaze! Become legends in our own time, strike fear in the heart of mediocre talent everywhere! We can scald dogs, put records out of reach! Make the stands gasp as we blow into an unearthly kick from three hundred yards out! We can become God's own messengers delivering the dreaded scrolls! We can race dark Satan himself till he wheezes fiery cinders down the back straightaway....They'll speak our names in hushed tones, 'those guys are animals' they'll say! We can lay it on the line, bust a gut, show them a clean pair of heels. We can sprint the turn on a spring breeze and feel the winter leave our feet! We can, by God, let our demons loose and just wail on!

It's a simple choice! We can all be good boys and wear our letter sweaters around and get our little degrees and find some nice girl to settle, you know, down with... Take up what a friend of ours calls the hearty challenges of lawn care... Or we can blaze! Become legends in our own time, strike fear in the hearts of mediocre talent everywhere! We can scald dogs, put records out of reach! Make the stands gasp as we blow into an unearthly kick from three hundred yards out! We can become God's own messengers delivering the dreaded scrolls! We can race satan himslef till he wheezes fiery cinders down the back straight away... They'll speak our names in hushed tones, 'those guys are animals' they'll say! We can lay it on the line, bust a guy, show them a clean pair of heels. We can sprint the turn on a spring breeze and feel the winter leave our feet! We can, by god, let out demons loose and just wail on!

There's a reason why your toes are forward and your heels backward. It means, step on your past with your heels and approach your furute with your toes.

Life is a series of conflicts between the right way and the easy way each day. The thing is you head up straight. And when you make that choice. And when you decide to turn your back to what's comfortable, and safe and what someone calls common sense. So, that's day one. From there, it's only getting tougher. But make sure it is something you really want because the easy-way always be there to wash you away. Each step in life comes to a decision and take another. Now You are on your way but You fight against an opponent you can't see, but all you can feel among your heels. Feel him breathing down on your neck. That's you. Your fears, your doubts, your insecurity all end up as an enemy within. Remember life is the royal battle between You and You.

IT IS A WELL-ESTABLISHED Achilles’ heel of human civilization that individuals are more motivated by immediate private reward than by long-term, collective future benefits.

We tend to be socially naive, blind to others’ motives, and have a tough time clearly distinguishing between levels of a social hierarchy.

Wherever you stand, stand tall; you don't need heels, you just need a goal.

For M & B. Should you ever get to read this, to remind you that when life offers you a challenge: rise to the occasion.

If you needed one million dollars and you had an idea worth one million dollars, but you did not have the opportunity to sell your idea to one person, you had better sell it for one dollar to one million people as simple as this. That is creativity.

It is a well established Achilles heel of human civilization that individuals are more motivated by immediate private reward than by long-term, collective benefits. This effect is particularly evident when considering payoffs that will take longer than a generation to arrive – a phenomenon called inter-generational discounting. In short, we as a species are motivated to betray our own descendants. Our inability to focus on long-term threats will lead to the destruction of our environment, overpopulation, and resource exhaustion – a built in timer for our own destruction.

What happened?" "Oil." The sheikh shook his head. "The great cursed wealth from beneath the ground that the Prophet foresaw would destroy us. And statehood-what a terrible idea that was, eh? This part of the world was never meant to function that way. Too many languages, too many tribes, too motivated by ideas those high-heeled cartographers from Paris couldn't understand. Don't understand. Will never understand. Well, God save them-they're not the ones who have to live in this mess. They said a modern state needs a single leader, a secular leader, and the emir was the closest thing we had. So to the emir went all the power. And anyone who thinks that isn't a good idea is hounded down and tossed in jail, as you have so recently discovered. All so that some pantywaist royal nephew can have a seat at the UN and carry a flag in the Olympics and be thoroughly ignored.

If, for example, your parent said, “I love you” as they punished you, or ignored you, or laid guilt on you, or shamed you, or clung to you, or abused you, then your search for God will probably lead you towards people and activities that generate the sensations associated with these feelings. And when you find them, you will probably think that you are head-over-heels in love.

He backpedaled hard. "Whatever you've planned is fine with me, Erica. I appreciate your efforts; I always do." True enough. She may be a domineering harpy on occasion, but she was his domineering harpy, and didn't everyone need a bit of domineering harpy in their lives? They made things run much smoother. Nothing provided motivation quite like having her tiny, spike-heeled shoe up his ass.

I know you are tired. I know you are hurting. I know that even among the crowds and or with your closest loved ones, you feel terribly alone in the world. I know that in the quietness, a thousand hell hounds are barking and snarling at your heels. They tell you, "Everything is wrong with you. You are a failure. You will never live to see your dreams and visions come to pass. You know you should just throw in the towel. No one would even miss you if you were gone. Exit from this cruel insane assylum you call home. We will even tell you how to end 'it'." But don't you dare entertain those hounds of hell, no, not even for one moment. See, you not only have the elixir of Life inside of your organs and your veins; you are the Elixir of Life of a Celestial domain. For every hell hound nipping at your ears, there are eight hundred angels rushing to you with every holy breath....you take. Every step you make fuels the fire of Love in your behalf. See, nothing is wrong with you. Every thing is right with you. You are cut from iron. You have long exchanged your velveteen fabric and cotton stuffing for blazen guts and a heart of gold. You are the head and not the tail. You are the water in the desert, the ripple in the steam, the sword AND the stone and you, glorious being, are not alone! We are one and we are many. We've known lack, but we are plenty. We are not on the cusp of a break through. We are the cusp and we are the break --- through. We are the old and we are the new. Who knew? You did. You do. And don't you ever forget that.

1. Whenever you walk through a doorway at home, stop, press the palms of your hands flat against the top of the door frame, get up on your toes, then push up with your arms and try to get your heels back on the floor. But don't let them budge - you're pushing against the calf muscles and recontouring them. Hold it for few seconds and then go on about you chores. 2. Sit on a straight chair, point your toes out straight, and kick up as high as you can with each leg. You'll feel a healthy pull in the calf muscles. 3. After a few kicks, stand up on your toes and lower yourself very slowly to a squatting position, still keeping your weight on the balls of your feet. Then pull slowly up again. It’s fair to balance yourself lightly with your hands on the back of a chair if you have to. 4. Put a book on the floor and place the balls of your feet on the book and your heels on the floor. Raise yourself slowly until you’re on tiptoe on the book. Then lower yourself just as slowly. The thicker the book, the better the results/ These four exercises will slim down fat calves and build up thin ones. The point is that the muscles are being firmed, and no matter what your problem the result is lovelier legs.

Stop,' I put my hand on Xaden's arm. 'Xaden, stop. If you want me to go with you, I'll go. It's that simple.' His gaze shifts to meet mine and immediately softens. 'No fucking way,' Dain whispers, but it reverberates in my bones like a lightning strike. I pivot, dropping my hand from Xaden's arm, but it's obvious by Dain's expression that he now knows there's something between Xaden and me- and he's hurt. My stomach hits the ground. 'Dain-' 'Him?' Dain's eyes widen and his face flushes. 'You and... him?' He shakes his head. 'People talk, and I thought that's all it was, but you...' Disappointment drops his shoulders. 'Don't go, Violet. Please. He's going to get you killed.' 'I know you think Xaden has ulterior motives, but I trust him. He's had every opportunity and has never hurt me.' I move toward Dain. 'At some point, you have to let this go.' Dain looks horrified for a second but quickly masks it. 'If he's what you choose...' He sighs. 'Then I guess that has to be enough for me, doesn't it?' 'Yes.' I nod. Thank gods all this nonsense is about to be past us. He swallows hard and leans in to whisper. 'I'll miss you, Violet.' Then he pivots on his heel and heads for Cath. 'Thank you for trusting me,' Xaden says as I reach Tairn's foreleg. 'Always.

In the light of the evidence it is hard to believe that most crusaders were motivated by crude materialism. Given their knowledge and expectations and the economic climate in which they lived, the disposal of assets to invest in the fairly remote possibility of settlement in the East would have been a stupid gamble. It makes much more sense to suppose, in so far as one can generalize about them, that they were moved by an idealism which must have inspired not only them but their families. Parents, brothers and sisters, wives and children had to face a long absence and must have worried about them: in 1098 Countess Ida of Boulogne made an endowment to the abbey of St Bertin 'for the safety of her sons, Godfrey and Baldwin, who have gone to Jerusalem'.83 And they and more distant relatives — cousins, uncles and nephews - were prepared to endow them out of the patrimonial lands. I have already stressed that no one can treat the phenomenal growth of monasticism in this period without taking into account not only those who entered the communities to be professed, but also the lay men and women who were prepared to endow new religious houses with lands and rents. The same is true of the crusading movement. Behind many crusaders stood a large body of men and women who were prepared to sacrifice interest to help them go. It is hard to avoid concluding that they were fired by the opportunity presented to a relative not only of making a penitential pilgrimage to Jerusalem but also of fighting in a holy cause. For almost a century great lords, castellans and knights had been subjected to abuse by the Church. Wilting under the torrent of invective and responding to the attempts of churchmen to reform their way of life in terms they could understand, they had become perceptibly more pious. Now they were presented by a pope who knew them intimately with the chance of performing a meritorious act which exactly fitted their upbringing and devotional needs and they seized it eagerly. But they responded, of course, in their own way. They were not theologians and were bound to react in ways consonant with their own ideas of right and wrong, ideas that did not always respond to those of senior churchmen. The emphasis that Urban had put on charity - love of Christian brothers under the heel of Islam, love of Christ whose land was subject to the Muslim yoke - could not but arouse in their minds analogies with their own kin and their own lords' patrimonies, and remind them of their obligations to avenge injuries to their relatives and lords. And that put the crusade on the level of a vendetta. Their leaders, writing to Urban in September 1098, informed him that 'The Turks, who inflicted much dishonour on Our Lord Jesus Christ, have been taken and killed and we Jerusalemites have avenged the injury to the supreme God Jesus Christ.

As a face and a heel, Savage saw wrestling the way so many of us viewers did. He saw that every wrestler had an ulterior motive, that everyone was out for himself—that conspiracy theory was the only reasonable lens through which to perceive WWF reality.

When I returned from the concert I wrote, in my very best hand, a letter to Flauvic requesting the favor of his advice on a matter of fashion. I sent it that night, and to my surprise, an answer awaited me when I woke in the morning. In fact, two answers awaited: one, the plain paper I had grown used to seeing from my Unknown, and the second, a beautifully folded and sealed sheet of imported linen paper. This second one I opened first, to find only a line, but Flauvic’s handwriting was exquisite: He was entirely at my disposal, and I was welcome to consult him at any time. The prospect was daunting and fascinating at the same time. Resolving to get that done directly after breakfast, I turned eagerly to the letter from the Unknown: I can agree with your assessment of the ideal courtship, but I believe you err when you assume that everyone at Court has known the difference from age ten--or indeed, any age. There are those who will never perceive the difference, and then there are some who are aware to some degree of the difference but choose not to heed it. I need hardly add that the motivation here is usually lust for money or power, more than for the individual’s personal charms. But I digress: To return to your subject, do you truly believe, then, that those who court must find themselves of one mind in all things? Must they study deeply and approve each other’s views on important subjects before they can risk contemplating marriage? Well, I had to sit down and answer that. I scrawled out two pages of thoughts, each following rapidly on the heels of its predecessor, until I discovered that the morning was already advancing.

When he entered the anteroom, two women looked up at him. One was Miss Robertson, the governor's secretary; the other he did not recognize till she smiled and said his name in a gentle voice. She was Mrs. Freeman, the wife of the bishop; he saluted her and went to Miss Robertson. 'Will you tell them I'm here?' he said. 'I'm sorry, Mr. Haffner, they don't even want me to take minutes right now.' 'Well, just go tell them I'm out of the running.' There was not so much as a flicker in her eyes. 'They locked the door,' she said, 'and besides, I don't think they'll accept your withdrawal.' 'Won't they though. Just give them my message, Miss Robertson. I'm leaving.' 'Oh, Mr. Haffner, I know they'll want to see you. It's very important.' 'They will, huh. I'll give them half an hour.' He sat down beside her to talk. It was not that he liked Miss Robertson particularly. Her soul had been for a long time smoothed out and hobbled by girdles and high heels as her body; her personality was as blank and brown as her gabardine suit; her mind was exactly good enough to take down 140 any sort of words a minute without error, without boredom, without wincing. But she could talk idly in a bare room like this well enough; he remembered that she liked science-fiction; he drew her out. Besides, she was not Mrs. Freeman. Mrs. Freeman was a good woman; that is, she did good, and did not resent those who did bad but pitied them. For example, now: she was knitting alone while the other two talked, neither trying to join them nor, as John actively knew, making them uncomfortable for not having included her; and she was waiting for the bishop, who for reasons no one understood, hated to drive at night without her. John liked good people—no, he respected them above everyone else, above the powerful or beautiful or rich, whom he knew well, the gifted or learned or even the wise; indeed, he was rather in awe of the good, but their actual sweet presence made him uncomfortable. Mrs. Freeman there: with her hair drawn back straight to a bun, she sat in a steel-tube, leatherette chair, against a beige, fire-resistant, sound-absorbent wall, knitting in that ambient, indirect light socks for the mad; he knew quite well that if he should go over beside her she would talk with him in her gentle voice about whatever he wished to talk about, that she would have firm views which, however, she would never declare harshly against his should they differ, that she would tell him, if he asked about her work with the insane, what she had accomplished and what failed to accomplish, that she would make him acutely uncomfortable. He felt himself deficient not to be living, as people like Mrs. Freeman seemed to live, in an altogether moral world, but more especially he was reluctant to come near such people because he did not want to know more than he could help knowing of their motives; he did not trust motives; he was a lawyer. Therefore, though it was all but rude of him, he sat with Miss Robertson till the door opened.

Successful marriage hinges on the application of knowledge - knowing and understanding God's principles not the exchange of love.. Brother you can be in love all you want but that doesn't make the woman the right person. Same with ladues, you can be head over heels with him but that doesn't make him the right husband. In all your getting, get knowledge and understanding.

That is how my mom taught me that nothing comes before dreams; they are the priority. I have lived on until today to know, believe and preach that tough times do not last, tough people do!

If I can touch the life of one person, two people, ten people, then my work is worth it

Dare to admit to your mistakes; do not worry, we all make them. Besides, a weakness is certainly not a destiny, but rather an opportunity to improve yourself as well as to strengthen your Achilles heel.

When I can’t get to the sea water or to a tennis court, or out for a long, brisk walk, I work on stretch exercises at home. One that I do many times a day as I move around my apartment involves standing for a moment with my back again a wall. I dig my heels into the floor, stand straight, and place the palm of my hand between the small of my back and the wall. Keeping my chin level, I pull the crown of my head toward the ceiling. At the same time I push the small of my back toward the wall until there’s no longer room for my hand.

Whenever I have to pick something off the floor I bend down, keeping my legs straight. Dutifully touching your toes fifty times every day is a crashing bore. But there are almost as many times when something has to be picked up anyhow — or a lower drawer has to be opened — so I automatically do it in a manner that keeps me fit. I try to make a graceful gesture out of reaching for things on high shelves, too. I don’t make it easier by dragging out a little step stool. While I’m on the phone I take a small bottle — a Pepsi bottle, of course — and roll it back and forth under my instep. I touch first the heel to the floor, then the toe, ten times for each foot. [...] These exercises strengthen the foot, stretch the calf muscles, and result in lovely feet and legs. When I’m standing — scraping carrots, or just waiting somewhere — I dig my heels into the ground, draw myself up to my best posture, and pull my stomach muscles in hard. [...] When I’m dictating to my secretary I may raise my elbows level with my shoulders and press the heels of my hands hard against each other. (The whole idea behind isometrics is to make the muscles work against each other.) This exercise, lasting for just six to ten seconds, is wonderful for the inside of the upper arms — the place that can go flabby almost overnight and make it impossible to wear sleeveless dresses. For the backs of the upper arms, do the same exercise with the hands raised just above the level of the forehead.

While everyone has a unique way to get motivated and stay that way, all athletes thrive on competition, and that means beating someone else, not just setting a personal best … We all work harder, run faster, when we know someone is right on our heels …

But his sister Ivy was worse. She really did not care for material wealth. The alms she got was no bigger than ours, and she went about in scuffed, flat-heeled shoes and shirtwaists—just to show how selfless she was. She was our Director of Distribution. She was the lady in charge of our needs. She was the one who held us by the throat. Of course, distribution was supposed to be decided by voting—by the voice of the people. But when the people are six thousand howling voices, trying to decide without yardstick, rhyme or reason, when there are no rules to the game and each can demand anything, but has a right to nothing, when everybody holds power over everybody’s life except his own—then it turns out, as it did, that the voice of the people is Ivy Starnes. By the end of the second year, we dropped the pretense of the ‘family meetings’—in the name of ‘production efficiency and time economy,’ one meeting used to take ten days—and all the petitions of need were simply sent to Miss Starnes’ office. No, not sent. They had to be recited to her in person by every petitioner. Then she made up a distribution list, which she read to us for our vote of approval at a meeting that lasted three-quarters of an hour. We voted approval. There was a ten-minute period on the agenda for discussion and objections. We made no objections. We knew better by that time. Nobody can divide a factory’s income among thousands of people, without some sort of a gauge to measure people’s value. Her gauge was bootlicking. Selfless? In her father’s time, all of his money wouldn’t have given him a chance to speak to his lousiest wiper and get away with it, as she spoke to our best skilled workers and their wives. She had pale eyes that looked fishy, cold and dead. And if you ever want to see pure evil, you should have seen the way her eyes glinted when she watched some man who’d talked back to her once and who’d just heard his name on the list of those getting nothing above basic pittance. And when you saw it, you saw the real motive of any person who’s ever preached the slogan: ‘From each according to his ability, to each according to his need.

IT IS A WELL-ESTABLISHED Achilles’ heel of human civilization that individuals are more motivated by immediate private reward than by long-term, collective future benefits. This effect is particularly evident when considering payoffs that will take longer than a generation to arrive—a phenomenon called intergenerational discounting

The need to burn some excess calories is another motivation: unloved is one thing; fat and unloved is not a good look.

Remember the most beautiful yet the most uncomfortable pair of heels you own? You feel like a queen when you wear them, almost making people look up to your elegance. While on the inside you know how you struggle to keep your toes straight, firm your ankle so it doesn't slip, tolerate the knee pain so you are standing tall! Well that's an everyday life of a strong woman, There is so much going on in the inside- no one can guess a thing on your exterior. You don't need to wear heels everyday. It's okay to be weak and vulnerable- once in a while

Today, many of us experience a profound sense of duality. The body is a vast, dark and mysterious unknown. It’s not to be trusted; it’s treacherous, traitorous and unpredictable. Anything could bring us down: a genetic wild card, an environmental toxin, a renegade organ, hormone or neurotransmitter. According to this view, we are mere victims of our physiology; things can go wrong without warning and we have no control. For others, the relationship with the body is adversarial. The body must be beaten into shape, tamed and brought to heel. We exercise like demons, living the belief that the body must be pounded into condition with endless sweating, suffering and pain. If we let up our efforts for a day or a week, we’ll degenerate into obesity, sloth and disease. Alternately, we abuse our bodies with all manner of substances and behaviors, trying to punish it for sensations, emotions and motives that we don’t understand or know what to do with. For still others, the primal relationship is marked by apathy and ignorance. The body is something far away; it’s a foreign land. We don’t know what it’s capable of and we don’t much care. As long as it gets us to work and back home at the end of the day, we’re content to leave it to its own devices. If something goes wrong, we’ll just take it in to the shop and all will be well. We’re not even curious about what it is or what it might become.

While the family and servants gathered reverently to view the magnificent creation, Kathleen took West’s arm and tugged him out of the room. “Something is going on here,” she said. “I want to know the real reason why the earl has invited Mr. Winterborne.” They stopped in the space beneath the grand staircase, behind the tree. “Can’t he show hospitality to a friend without an ulterior motive?” West parried. She shook her head. “Everything your brother does has an ulterior motive. Why has he invited Mr. Winterborne?” “Winterborne has his finger in many pies. I believe Devon hopes to benefit from his advice, and at some future date enter into a business deal with him.” That sounded reasonable enough. But her intuition still warned that there was something fishy about the situation. “How did they become acquainted?” “About three years ago, Winterborne was nominated for membership at two different London clubs, but was rejected by both of them. Winterborne is a commoner, his father was a Welsh grocer. So after hearing the sniggering about how Winterborne had been refused, Devon arranged to have our club, Brabbler’s, offer a membership to him. And Winterborne never forgets a favor.” “Brabbler’s?” Kathleen repeated. “What an odd name.” “It’s the word for a fellow who tends to argue over trifles.” West looked down and rubbed at a sticky spot of sap on the heel of his hand. “Brabbler’s is a second-tier club for those who aren’t allowed into White’s or Brooks’s, but it includes some of the most successful and clever men in London.” “Such as Mr. Winterborne.” “Just so.

A day came in healing summer on which I got up to run and the bottom of my right foot hurt so intensely that I couldn’t stand on it. It was on the bottom right pad. Doctors call this neuroma or neuropathy, but it clearly is not. I laughed at this point, almost feeling sorry for the TMS in me. I no longer feared the pain. I can only describe the pain on the bottom of my foot as a golf ball on the right pad of my foot (no, I know what you’re thinking, I checked the shoe, it wasn’t a golf ball). I dressed to run. As I started down my driveway I slammed that foot into the cement as hard as I could slam it. The first few hits were excruciating and sent a tingling through my face, but by the end of my driveway, the foot pain was gone. I focused my attention on a part of my back that felt great and continued running. Some mornings the pain would be in my heels so I began slamming my heels on the ground as hard as I possibly could without breaking my foot. Too many people whose feet hurt begin to placate their pain, they let their foot pain hold their attention by babying their feet, needlessly controlling their lives because doctors erroneously diagnose them as having foot neuropathy (there are over 100 types of so-called neuropathies). I have helped several people get rid of their foot pain and know another individual who has gone from trouble walking, to jogging, through TMS healing. Never yield to pain—if you do, then you give in to your unconscious motivation for it.