After all, it is not where one washes one's neck that counts but where one moistens one's throat.
Time grabs you by the scruff of your neck and drags you forward. You get over it, of course. Everyone was right about that. One mathematically insignificant day, you stop hoping for happiness and become actually happy.
It's nice to see some youth running around and not see achy backs and necks and arms,. . . It's nice to see some young guys feeling spry.
It seems that every time I stick my neck out, I get my foot into something else.
The prisoners for better security against conversation shall have a canvas bag put over the head of each and tied around the neck, with a holes for proper breathing and eating, but not seeing.
I attend Internet conferences all the time, and they literally make the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
Holding a tear back makes them drain upward, higher and higher, until one day your head just explodes and you're left with a stub of a neck and nothing more.
He who waits for the sword to fall upon his neck will surely lose his head.
He who believes in the fate accepts the collar in his neck!
I would rather be an opportunist and float than go to the bottom with my principles around my neck.
If I were a painter, I would paint beautiful bodies - I would paint nipples, and I would paint Bibles. Am I going to say, 'I'm not going to paint this woman's neck because people will think I just want to lick on necks?' Please! That's not what art is about.
Martin, at my age, eroticism is reduced to enjoying caramel custard and looking at widows' necks. ' - Senor Sempere.
All the white meat is gone. There's nothin' but necks on the platter.
Your neck. I want to kiss it.
We don't have a studio, we don't have a radio station, we don't have anybody breathing down our necks to make a budget. We don't have any benchmarks that we have to hit. Our benchmarks are ones that we have set.
A drunkard is like a whiskey-bottle, all neck and belly and no head.
No art ever came out of not risking your neck.
To have this gold medal around my neck is an indescribable feeling. I'm the happiest person right now.
We Slytherins are brave, yes, but not stupid. For instance, given the choice, we will always choose to save our own necks.
If that mockingbird don't sing and that ring don't shine, I'm a break that birdie's neck.