Best 584 quotes in «hockey quotes» category

His eyes are a hazy swirl of gray, like a thick mass of clouds gathering before an impending storm

Hockey and cooking are similar in so many ways, especially if you are a player-coach, the guy in charge on the ice, a role I would closely relate to that of a chef in the kitchen - they are both contact sports. You've gotta keep your head up, keep moving and communicate well. Even though you might be the leader in the kitchen or on the ice, you need to understand that that you're part of a working machine and that machine stops working if one of the pieces isn't working in unison with the others. I learned from a very young age the importance of being part of this team dynamic and how hard work can take you to so many different places. (Chef Duane Keller)

I don’t want to fuck with your head.” he whispers. “I wish I hadn’t ever done that.” But it’s not my head that needs fucking. “Come over here,” I say. “Please.” “No fucking way.” he replies “I can make you.” He laughs. “Did you smoke some pot while I was out, Canning?” I laugh too, and it’s such a relief. Because it means I haven’t wrecked everything. But I lift my hips, peel off my briefs, and throw them at his head. He bats them away, smiling in the dark. Kicking the sheet off, I put my hand on my dick. And he stops laughing.

If we keep winning, our destiny is in our own hands.

I want something real. Something that leads to something more than sex.

Hockey is not for pussies. Technically, it’s defined as a sport. Words like play and game get thrown around liberally to shield its true nature: hockey is warfare with water breaks. In the rink, you have over two thousand pounds of brute force clashing with whittled clubs, a rubber disc that could crush a larynx, and knives attached to feet. Let’s not pretend there’s anything civilized going on here.

I broke up with her to avoid getting into a serious relationship with her, and now it

I don’t want to fuck with your head.” he whispers. “I wish I hadn’t ever done that.” But it’s not my head that needs fucking. “Come over here,” I say. “Please.” “No fucking way.” he replies “I can make you.” He laughs. “Did you smoke some pie while I was our, Canning?” I laugh too, and it’s such a relief. Because it means I haven’t wrecked everything. But I lift my hips, peel off my briefs, and throw them at his head. He bats them away, smiling in the dark. Kicking the sheet off, I put my hand on my dick. And he stops laughing.

I’m just a simple guy. I love beer, sex, and hockey. I hate liars, Sting, and art that doesn’t have people in it. - Luke Almeida

Love is friendship set on fire. I get it now.

Meaning I want to put words to it. I want to give it a name. I'm not okay with kissing you and holding you, being by your side for all the things a boyfriend would be there for, without it being understood in no uncertain terms that that's what I am to you. I wan us to be a couple. I want to be by your side though everything that's coming, to hold your hand when you're scared and pick you up when you're weak. I want to know that you're not going to run to some other asshole when we disagree or when I try to make sure you do what we both know is the best for you. I wan you to run to me, even if I piss you off. Because I will piss you off. Because I love you. And because you love me. And because I can't go one more day without being able to tell you that as often as it comes to mind, which is about a dozen times a minute. - Jamie Babcock

someone like Grace. Someone exactly like Grace, with her Ted Bundy rants and her calming presence and—hello, irony.

Our mouths fit together so perfectly. Every time we kiss, I fall even more in love with him, and it has nothing to do with sex or lust. It's him. His closeness and his scent and the way he soothes me.

People think common sense is common - but it's not.

The accusation raises my hackles. “Why? Because I’m a player?” Indignation makes my tone harsher than I intend for it to be. “Have you ever thought that maybe it’s because I haven’t met the right girl yet? But no, I couldn’t possibly want someone to cuddle with andwatch movies with, someone who wears my jersey and cheers for me at games, and cooks dinner with me the way you and Garrett—

Top shelf where momma hides the cookies!

Two seconds later, he’s there. And I’m stretching out on him like a blanket, and jamming my tongue into his mouth. Jamie moans, but I’m too wrapped up in the taste of him to worry about it. I have my fingers in his hair, and his hot, hard body under mine and it’s everything I’ve ever wanted. - Wes

Wes growls when I come in his mouth, but he doesn’t stop sucking until I’m limp and mindless. As the aftershocks of the orgasm continue to flutter through my sated body, I vaguely register that he’s beside me now. Kissing my neck. Stroking my abs. Nuzzling my beard with his cheek. “Fucking love this beard,” he whispers. “Fucking love you,” I whisper back.

Trades are happening, and I have two players that if they don't get their crap together I'm going to castrate them." He took in a sharp breath. "Don't castrate my teammates, sweetheart, it will affect how they play.

Un altro giorno stava per incominciare. Un altro giorno che si sarebbe spento in un’altra notte. La sua vita era un susseguirsi inutile di secondi, minuti e ore senza luce. Non c’era più luce in lui, né fuori di lui. Forse non era più neppure un essere umano. Forse era diventato una bestia. Sì, doveva essere così, almeno a giudicare dai peli che gli coprivano il volto e dai ringhi e grugniti con i quali ormai si esprimeva nella vana speranza di tener lontano il mondo. Ray predatore Raider fece per alzarsi dal divano che era diventato la sua zattera di salvataggio, ma ricadde pesantemente sui cuscini lasciando andare un sospiro disperato. Il male al ginocchio, da quando aveva interrotto gli antidolorifici, era insopportabile, ma almeno gli permetteva di rimanere lucido e di non dimenticare. Bussavano alla porta, ecco perché si era svegliato dal suo torpore. Anne, probabilmente, e la sua mania di portargli da mangiare quando lui avrebbe voluto solo bere. Si sdraiò di nuovo sul divano e si coprì la testa con un cuscino. Avrebbe finto di dormire, sì, e Anne se ne sarebbe andata.

Vadim sat up, unfairly pulling the towel over his groin so she missed the main attraction. Had he changed in the intervening years? If anything, he had to have grown bigger, which was terrifying, because the boy had rocked a manaconda at nineteen. Dicks didn’t shrink with time, did they? Note to self: Google penis size changes with age. For science.

.. when she looked at Nate she saw a kid who’d been shoved into lockers during high school. And now he wanted the last laugh, taking every opportunity to throw his (nerdy) weight around. He’d bought a hockey team, and he was going to make the jocks do his bidding, at least until the day he realized that vindication wasn’t everything in life.

You never learn anything if you're the one talking

We were hockey gypsies, heading down another gravel road every weekend, plowing into the heart of that magnificent northern landscape. We never gave a thought to being deprived as we travelled, to being shut out of the regular league system. We never gave a thought to being Indian. Different. We only thought of the game and the brotherhood that bound us together off the ice, in the van, on the plank floors of reservation houses, in the truck stop diners where if we'd won we had a little to splurge on a burger and soup before we hit the road again. Small joys. All of them tied together, entwined to form an experience we would not have traded for any other. We were a league of nomads, mad for the game, mad for the road, mad for ice and snow, an Arctic wind on our faces and a frozen puck on the blade of our sticks.

You make me want to suck a bruise on you just to kiss it better. --Luc to Jane--

A complacent player is a lazy player, and a lazy player is a loser.

About the last thing I ever wanted in life was a knighthood, and even today some forty years after the event, I find it difficult to come to terms with a life where old and valued friends insist on calling me 'Sir' instead of Don, simply because they think it is protocol. But I have consciously shouldered these burdens because I felt that I was the medium through which cricket could achieve a higher status and gain maximum support from the people, not only in Australia but throughout the world.

A damn independent boy; independent as a hog on ice.

A corner of his mouth quirked up. “I play pool. Shoot hoops sometimes too. Any other sport you’re curious about?” “Hockey? Polo?” “Simultaneously. Trick is to keep the horses on their skates.

After referees negated a line change that led to Tampa Bay"s winning goal in the Stanley Cup Playoffs: After all these years in the league, am I that stupid that I would put four forwards and one defenseman in a 3-3 tie, in the third period? I think everybody that knows me here knows I"m not that stupid. I might be halfway stupid, but not that stupid.

After returning from his stint in the minors made reference to the movie Slapshot with: I'm happy to be back. It was never my aspiration as a kid to play in the Federal league.

About 4000 men, women and teenagers regularly venture out to play a game in -20 weather and stinging prairie winds. Bundled in sweaters and snow suits, balaclavas on their heads and suction cupped shoes on their feet. They slip and slide across the outdoor hockey rinks chasing a soft rubber puck in the Sponge Hockey Capital of the World.

Aggression is part of the masculine design, we are hardwired for it.... Little girls do not invent games where large numbers of people die, where bloodshed is a prerequisite for having fun. Hockey, for example, was not a feminine creation. Nor was boxing. A boy wants to attack something - and so does a man, even if it's only a little white ball on a tee.

A good ice hockey player is someone who has good communication skills, is willing to listen and willing to try new things. It's a very technical game and not that easy to pick up. It's a lot of fun but you just have to be patient.

A hockey team is like a puzzle. Every piece is vital.

All my career I've gone to teams on the decline. I went to Quebec when they were losing the Stastny brothers. I went to Edmonton after they lost Gretzky and Messier. I went to Anaheim when it was an expansion team. I came to Montreal after they'd won the Cup and were headed down. I was beginning to think it was me.

American Journalism is dead… They have behaved like hockey goalies in front of Barack Obama’s net.

An avowed homosexual, that would never be accepted in hockey - never! Because it's a milieu where everyone is often naked.

And if I want to get involved in choosing sides, I usually pick hockey or football.

Any sport that comes from Scotland is good!

Ah, my sister used to hit me harder.

All hockey players are bilingual. They know English and profanity.

All that means is that I'll be 783 years old when I catch Scotty Bowman.

A lot of what I know as a filmmaker is because of hockey. That's teamwork, and being able to collaborate with people, and be creative with them, and get the most out of everybody. Everyone's got different talents, and you've got to bring out the best of everybody, and use your strengths and work together, and try and evolve it rather than do what was done before you, and to push into new areas.

Always keep your composure. You can't score from the penalty box; and to win, you have to score.

America's belated embrace of government health care is going to be far more expensive and disastrous than the Euro-Canadian models. Whatever one's philosophical objection to the Canadian health system, it is, broadly, fair: Unless you're a cabinet minister or a big time hockey player, you'll enjoy the same equality of crappiness and universal lack of access that everybody else does. But, even before it's up-and-running, Pelosi-Reid-Obamacare is an impenetrable thicket of contradictory boondoggles, shameless payoffs and arbitrary shakedowns.

And I'm not very coordinated, either. Only on ice skates, not in real life.

A player must be able to skate, have hockey sense, be able to shoot, but not necessarily be able to score.

A puck is a hard rubber disk that hockey players strike when they can't hit one another.

A series of rumors about my attitude, as well as derogatory remarks about myself and my family showed me that the personal resentment of the Detroit general manager toward me would make it impossible for me to continue playing hockey in Detroit.