The feet just about worked still, however, and on these he slid towards the door.

"My feet and mind were all working together."

She tried to stand, but her legs were like jelly and her feet wouldn't work.

I staggered up, but my feet would not work.

The people were pleased when they realized their hands and feet worked better, and the bow priests decided to make one last change.

I took a step toward her, but my feet wouldn't work right.

My feet have never worked so hard as this last week.

The people down on their luck who we help back onto their feet - independent, working, able to look after themselves.

Her conscience might be clear, but she would still have to live ever after with the knowledge of what her hands (and feet) had wrought.

His hind feet still worked, but there wasn't much coordination in them.