Best 258 quotes in «bully quotes» category

I want to be bullied. But in again and you'll pay." "She... wants to be bullied...?

I will no longer let the fear of vicious comments or replies stop me from speaking what I believe to be right. I will also never give a message that everybody will agree with. I know that even my most faithful followers will never agree 100% with what I say. I also know that they know that and are fine with it. I am done letting the bullies win. They won’t anymore. Not here.

Mandy would much rather have imaginary friends who were real than real friends who were imaginary.

Madeleine Albright says, “There is a special place in hell for women who don't help other women.” I wonder what happens to women who bully other women.

Luke said that he was surprised when I showed up at his room. That he hadn’t meant to give me the wrong idea. That he would never have taken it beyond just kissing. And he looked so genuine. So trustworthy. So sorry about what had happened. He almost convinced me that I’d misread his signals.” Hallelujah pauses. “The whole time, I kept my mouth shut. I wish I hadn’t. But I was still so humiliated. And I felt guilty. I made out with him. I liked it. And no one made me go to his room.” Her voice breaks. She has to swallow past a lump in her throat. “I know Luke’s not a good guy. I know what he did isn’t my fault. It’s his. But still, none of it would’ve happened if I hadn’t gone to his room.” She’s almost there. Almost done. Almost heard. Something deep inside her hurts like it hasn’t hurt in a long time. But she knows that this gash had to reopen in order to heal. That’s how wounds work. They need air. “I knew I’d get punished, and I did. My parents grounded me. I was put on youth group probation. But I honestly thought Luke’s lies would just fade away if I kept a low profile. There’s always gossip about someone. This time it was me.” ... “Luke is still telling people about what supposedly happened that night,” Hallelujah says. “And he makes fun of me. All the time. What I look like, what I say, my name. And he does this thing at church: whenever we sing a hymn with my name in it, he sings it like he’s hooking up with me. He sings the word ‘hallelujah’ at me. He moans it. And I hate it.” That’s one of the reasons she stopped singing: his voice, his fake grunts of satisfaction, ruining the music she loved so much. “You said,” she says to Jonah, “he wanted to keep me upset. To keep me from telling anyone what really happened. Well, it worked.” She pauses. “Until now.” “Until now,” Rachel repeats. Then she curses. “I can’t believe him. I can’t believe he got away with it.” “I let him get away with it,” Hallelujah says softly. “No. He’s the one who crossed the line. And okay, maybe you could’ve spoken up sooner. But if no one pushed you for your side of the story, that’s on them.” Rachel yawns and stretches. “And when we get home, we’re going to set the record straight.

Pain and humiliation is always amusing when it happens to someone else.

Persistence is a writer's best friend disguised as a bully.

Pag sinabihan kang panget o mataba, bullying yun. Pero pag binungangaan ka o pinitik man lang, assault yun. That's a crime! Dapat magreklamo ka na sa pulis o barangay.

Ralon didn't make anyone else put his tack away?" Alex wanted to know. "You didn't see anything strange?" Alanna didn't look up. "No." It wasn't strange , she excused her lie mentally. Ralon does things like that all the time.

The bully's greatest terror,' Bugg said, 'comes when he meets someone bigger and meaner—

She says screens are the cigarettes of our age. They're toxic, and we're only going to realize the damage they're doing when it's too late.

Someone else out there?” Luke squints in Hallelujah’s direction. He stands. He steps over his log bench and pushes past Rachel. Hallelujah can’t move, can’t breathe, and in four more steps, Luke has her by the arm. He’s marching her into the light. When he sees who it is, he drops her arm quickly, looking disgusted. “Hallie. You’ve gotta be kidding me.” Behind him, Brad’s on his feet. “Well, glory, Hallelujah!” he whoops. The girl next to him shushes him, and he lowers his voice. But he keeps talking, giving his words a preacher-at-a-revival ebb and flow. “I never thought, Hallelujah, I’d see the day, Hallelujah, where you’d have the guts to show up here, Hallelujah,praise Jesus—” “Give it a rest,” Luke says. “What, it’s only funny when you do it?” “Nah, she’s always funny,” Luke says, looking back at Hallelujah, dismissing her with a roll of his eyes. “You just aren’t. You never do that joke right.” He walks back to his seat. He glances at Rachel. “Turns out, there’s a seat for you right here, next to me.” He pats the unclaimed bit of log to his right.

Survival was my primary mission at school.

Shergahn and friend lay like poleaxed steers, and the Daranfelian's greasy hair was thick with potatoes, carrots, gravy, and chunks of beef. His companion had less stew in his hair, but an equally large lump was rising fast, and Brandark flipped his improvised club into the air, caught it in proper dipping position, and filled it once more from the pot without even glancing at them. He raised the ladle to his nose, inhaled deeply, and glanced at the cook with an impudent twitch of his ears. "Smells delicious," he said while the laughter started up all around the fire. "I imagine a bellyful of this should help a hungry man sleep. Why, just look what a single ladle of it did for Shergahn!

Some big guys, they think struttin' the muscle will put your tail between your legs, but all they got is strut, they ain't got the guts to back up the brag

Some people are in such utter darkness that they will burn you just to see a light. Try not to take it personally.

Some people love to mentally bully others into feeling inferior. Sadly, they often succeed in doing so because a lot of people aren't in the habit of defining their true self-worth.

There is something very interesting about bullies that make them special. You see, a bully is a coward; the bully is terribly afraid of the world around him, and he can’t stop himself from being in fear all the time. It is something organic that he can’t control. That is why the bully seems to have no discipline and never listen to authority or authoritarian commands. Now, another very interesting thing about the bully is that, as he is a coward, he needs to erase this feeling of panic of the world, by regaining control over reality. And the only way to do this is by picking the weakest link he can find, that is, the one that will not fight back, the safer victim around. This, however, does not mean that the victim is hopeless, weak or guilty of anything. The bully simply selects a target for his suppressed fear. If the victim reacts, the bully will have to start picking someone else to channel his endless frustrated sense of unworthiness. And although it is true that many people have the potential to be bullies, what makes the bully special is his lack of capacity to control himself, to stop himself or to feel ashamed of his own actions. Actually, the bully enjoys public performances of his cowardice the most, because that is how he feeds his very little ego and very weak personality. That is the only thing that makes his life worthy, for the bully has no sense of self-worth and often considers himself unworthy. As a matter of fact, the bullies that think they don’t deserve to be alive, are the ones telling others to kill themselves. Basically speaking, the weaker a soul, the more suppressive that soul will be towards others.

The man was a bully. A bully who'd elevated himself to a high-level position, but a bully just the same. No amount of flattery would change how I saw him.

The hoodlum-occultist is “sociopathic” enough to, see through the conventional charade, the social mythology of his species. “They’re all sheep,” he thinks. “Marks. Suckers. Waiting to be fleeced.” He has enough contact with some more-or-less genuine occult tradition to know a few of the gimmicks by which “social consciousness,” normally conditioned consciousness, can be suspended. He is thus able to utilize mental brutality in place of the simple physical brutality of the ordinary hooligan. He is quite powerless against those who realize that he is actually a stupid liar. He is stupid because spending your life terrorizing and exploiting your inferiors is a dumb and boring existence for anyone with more than five billion brain cells. Can you imagine Beethoven ignoring the heavenly choirs his right lobe could hear just to pound on the wall and annoy the neighbors? Gödel pushing aside his sublime mathematics to go out and cheat at cards? Van Gogh deserting his easel to scrawl nasty caricatures in the men’s toilet? Mental evil is always the stupidest evil because the mind itself is not a weapon but a potential paradise. Every kind of malice is a stupidity, but occult malice is stupidest of all. To the extent that the mindwarper is not 100 percent charlatan through-and-through (and most of them are), to the extent that he has picked up some real occult lore somewhere, his use of it for malicious purposes is like using Shakespeare’s sonnets for toilet tissue or picking up a Picasso miniature to drive nails. Everybody who has advanced beyond the barbarian stage of evolution can see how pre-human such acts are, except the person doing them. Genuine occult initiation confers “the philosopher’s stone,” “the gold of the wise” and “the elixir of life,” all of which are metaphors for the capacity to greet life with the bravery and love and gusto that it deserves. By throwing this away to indulge in spite, malice and the small pleasure of bullying the credulous, the mindwarper proves himself a fool and a dolt. And the psychic terrorist, besides being a jerk, is always a liar and a fraud. Healing is easier (and more fun) than cursing, to begin with, and cursing usually backfires or misfires. The mindwarper doesn’t want you to know that. He wants you to think he’s omnipotent.

Then there was Mani, the Mighty Good-For-Nothing. He towered above all the other boys of the class. He seldom brought any books to the class, and never bothered about homework. He came to the class, monopolized the last bench, ans slept bravely. No teacher ever tried to prod him.

We are not the stories that others hear about is, we are the stories that we know about ourselves.

...what started with those simple requirements -- make her notice me, but guarantee that nobody understood how I felt -- turned into the cruelest thing I have ever done to another human.

You can't even communicate in English. Real life is not a series of levels.

You’re innocent until proven guilty,” Mandy exclaimed, unable to hide her gleeful smile. She missed the way people used to have normal conversations, used to be more caring for each other than themselves, back in the Seventies and Eighties. These days, she realized, neighbors kept to themselves, their kids kept to themselves, nobody talked to each other anymore. They went to work, went shopping and shut themselves up at home in front of glowing computer screens and cellphones… but maybe the nostalgic, better times in her life would stay buried, maybe the world would never be what it was. In the 21st century music was bad, movies were bad, society was failing and there were very few intelligent people left who missed the way things used to be… maybe though, Mandy could change things. Thinking back to the old home movies in her basement, she recalled what Alecto had told her. “We wanted more than anything else in the world to be normal, but we failed.” The 1960’s and 1970’s were very strange times, but Mandy missed it all, she missed the days when Super-8 was the popular film type, when music had lyrics that made you think, when movies had powerful meanings instead of bad comedy and when people would just walk to a friend’s house for the afternoon instead of texting in bed all day. She missed soda fountains and department stores and non-biodegradable plastic grocery bags, she wished cellphones, bad pop music and LED lights didn’t exist… she hated how everything had a diagnosis or pill now, how people who didn’t fit in with modern, lazy society were just prescribed medications without a second thought… she hated how old, reliable cars were replaced with cheap hybrid vehicles… she hated how everything could be done online, so that people could just ignore each other… the world was becoming much more convenient, but at the same time, less human, and her teenage life was considered nostalgic history now. Hanging her head low, avoiding the slightly confused stare of the cab driver through the rear view mirror, she started crying uncontrollably, her tears soaking the collar of her coat as the sun blared through the windows in a warm light.

Your mom shoulda told you she was just the diseased old slit all the local hobos used as a cum dumpster when they drank away their money and couldn't afford new porno mags.

A bully is fighting out of a need to dominate. And is usually unwilling to take the consequences.

Actually I feel sorry for the bully because they probably don't have love and support at home.

A true warrior can only serve others, not himself...When you become a mercenary, you're just a bully with a gun.

Bill Cosby is a famous black guy who has a bully pulpit the size of the world; it's global. He puts his colossal foot on the vulnerable necks of poor people, and as a result of that, we don't have a balanced conversation.

Bullies may be the perpetrators of evil, but it is the evil of passivity of all those who know what is happening and never intervene that perpetuates such abuse.

Bullies often act out by marshaling aggression to cover up for insecurity.

Bullies are always cowards.

Bullies are just ignorant.

Bullies are often people who are shy and can't make friends easily, so, as the theme of the movie 'A Bronx Tale' tells us, it is better to be feared if you can't be loved.

Bullies: How the Left's Culture of Fear and Intimidation Silences Americans

Bullies say the things they say because they're unhappy. I also remind myself that what they are saying is not really about me.

By the way, this should be not only about protecting us going forward but this is a form of warfare for Vladimir Putin, who is a thug and a bully and has the friends around the globe that we don't want to be friends with.

Computers can bully us. A slow and unreliable system will bring even the toughest soul to their knees as they find themselves completely defenseless against the erratic whims of their rogue machine.

Donald Trump hasn't been specific, but if you go back over some of the campaign rhetoric, well, obviously, there's the bully pulpit, just publicly shaming out-sourcing companies. And that again is not new to Trump. If you remember, back in 2004, John Kerry was making noises about Benedict Arnold CEOs in a similar context. So, that's got a long and gloried tradition.

Don't everlastingly read messages into paintings - there's the Daisy - you don't rave over or read messages into it - you just look at that bully little flower - isn't that enough?

Don't lose faith. Promise yourself that you will be a success story, and I promise you that all the forces of the universe will unite to come to your aid; you might not feel today or for a while, but the longer you wait the bigger the prize.

Don’t you bully me with your politeness!

Draco's not really a bully. He's not exactly the biggest, strongest guy in the world. He's more a rich, snobby person. He thinks of himself as really cool.

Fighting really does reveal everything to the other guy. It's not just about who can beat up to or who's tougher, it's who bullies who and who goes easy on who. You change from opponent, so it's about how you deal with a challenge and how you deal with a guy who you can handle easily.

For too long, the U.S. has been operating upon the premise that American men and matériel should be capable of reaching and controlling all corners of the world. This was a bully’s universe.

He lunged again. This time I stood my ground and he checked his leap at the last second....and toppled sideways. I didn't hide my laugh that time. His face twisted fast, grabbed my pajama leg and wrenched, and down I went. "Bully

How come when I was a kid, I couldn't be picked on bullies like that?

The worst bully in your life is your own mind. Be kind to yourself and to others. Be gentle. Don’t beat yourself up for trying your best because, after all, you are trying your best.

Turning at the sound of voices, Amelia saw Merripen carrying her sister outside. Win was dressed in a nightgown and robe and swathed in a shawl, her slim arms looped around Merripen’s neck. With her white garments and blond hair and fair skin, Win was nearly colorless except for the flags of soft pink across her cheekbones and the vivid blue of her eyes. “… that was the most terrible medicine,” she was saying cheerfully. “It worked,” Merripen pointed out, bending to settle her carefully on the chaise. “That doesn’t mean I forgive you for bullying me into taking it.” “It was for your own good.” “You’re a bully,” Win repeated, smiling into his dark face. “Yes, I know,” Merripen murmured, tucking the lap blankets around her with extreme care. Delighted by the improvement in her sister’s condition, Amelia smiled. “He really is dreadful. But if he manages to persuade more villagers to help clean the house, you will have to forgive him, Win.” Win’s blue eyes twinkled. She spoke to Amelia, while her gaze remained on Merripen. “I have every faith in his powers of persuasion.