Well I'm still working on The Incredibles. So I'm going to take a little time off. I've got a couple of tricks up my sleeve. I'm not ready to talk about them yet, but expect the unexpected.
I wear my heart on my sleeve.
Some people wear their heart up on their sleeve. I wear mine underneath my right pant leg, strapped to my boot.
God's always got a custard pie up his sleeve.
A true leader always keeps an element of surprise up his sleeve, which others cannot grasp but which keeps his public excited and breathless.
I was always the child who wore her emotions on her sleeve.
I don't want to wear my compositional tools on my sleeve.
It was an amazing mistake to lose 10p on every copy because your sleeve is so expensive.
I'm not really the type to wear my heart on my sleeve. I would let someone know if I liked them, but it takes a while for me to fall in love.
It has an air about it of having strolled in from the street with a few tricks up its sleeve, and if everybody would relax, please, it would do its best to pass the time whimsically.
I do not come bearing a party label on my sleeve - or a quick fix in my back pocket. I do not come with a rigid ideology in my heart - or a soul that tells me to go it alone. I do not come to uproot tradition - or to be imprisoned by it.
Frank Sinatra taught me how to do him. It took me seven years to master him. He would tell me, tap your foot, Rich, and don't forget to grasp your sleeve.
I never give my real self. I have a hundred sides, and I turn first one way and then the other. I am playing a deep game. I have a number of strong cards up my sleeve. I have never been myself, excepting to two friends.
We dominated Survivor - there is no way we would not dominate that, too. I can see it already, us making deals with people. That's the best part, and with the Race, it would be even more fun because I've got a lot of tricks up my sleeve.
I'd like to think the best of me was still hiding up in my sleeve.
God always has another custard pie up his sleeve.
I do not wear my emotions on my sleeve. I was once described by my own son Stephen as an emotional ostrich.
He has not yet become an elder statesman, though his foreign policy credentials are considerable, but he is certainly our ancient mariner, forever tugging at our sleeve to let him tell his tale of what really happened.
With the media, I could be quick and ugly and critical. I tend to wear my emotions on my sleeve.
To wear your heart on your sleeve isn't a very good plan; you should wear it inside, where it functions best.