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“When the tidal waves wildly behavingMy bare feet on the shore busy savingThe calm warmth leaking out of the sandTo let my heart feel peacefully tanned!”
Munia Khan“The Chorus Line:A Rope-Jumping Rhymewe are the maidsthe ones you killedthe ones you failedwe danced in airour bare feet twitchedit was not fairwith every goddess, queen, and bitchfrom there to hereyou scratched your itchwe did much lessthan what you didyou judged us badyou had the spearyou had the wordat your commandwe scrubbed the bloodof our deadparamours from floors, from chairsfrom stairs, from doors,we knelt in waterwhile you staredat our bare feetit was not fairyou licked our fearit gave you pleasureyou raised your handyou watched us fallwe danced on airthe ones you failedthe ones you killed”
Margaret Atwood, The Penelopiad“Ma was heavy, but not fat; thick with child-bearing and work. She wore a loose Mother Hubbard of gray cloth in which there had once been colored flowers, but the color was washed out now, so that the small flowered pattern was only a little lighter gray than the background. The dress came down to her ankles, and he strong, broad, bare feet moved quickly and deftly over the floor. Her thin, steel-gray hair was gathered in a sparse wispy knot at the back of her head. Strong, freckled arms were bare to the elbow, and her hands were chubby and delicate, like those of a plump little girl. She looked out into the sunshine. Her full face was not soft; it was controlled, kindly. Her hazel eyes seemed to have experienced all possible tragedy and to have mounted pain and suffering like steps into a high calm and a superhuman understanding. She seemed to know, to accept, to welcome her position, the citadel of the family, the strong place that could not be taken. And since old Tom and the children could not know hurt or fear unless she acknowledged hurt and fear, she had practiced denying them in herself. And since, when a joyful thing happened, they looked to see whether joy was on her, it was her habit to build up laughter out of inadequate materials. But better than joy was calm. Imperturbability could be depended upon. And from her great and humble position in the family she had taken dignity and a clean calm beauty. From her position as healer, her hands had grown sure and cool and quiet; from her position as arbiter she had become as remote and faultless in judgment as a goddess. She seemed to know that if she swayed the family shook, and if she ever really deeply wavered or despaired the family would fall, the family will to function would be gone.”
John Steinbeck, The Grapes of Wrath“When blood dripped on my bare feet or poured over the book I was reading, he was kind.”
E. Lockhart, We Were Liars“I find it a lot healthier for me to be someplace where I can go outside in my bare feet.”
James Taylor“And forget not that the earth delights to feel your bare feet and the winds long to play with your hair.”
Khalil Gibran“Forget not that the earth delights to feel your bare feet and the winds long to play with your hair.”
Khalil Gibran“Forget not that the earth delights to feel your bare feet and the winds long to play with your hair.”
Kahlil Gibran“And forget not that the earth delights to feel your bare feet and the winds long to play with your hair”
Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet“What what," Trapis said as he hurried over to tend to her, his bare feet slapping on the floor. "What what. Hush hush.”
Patrick Rothfuss, The Name of the Wind