Best 122 quotes in «armor quotes» category

Meng Po raised her arms. At once, the gashes on Mulan's skin healed. Her wounds closed, and the dull pain in her ankle vanished. The rips and tears on her sleeves mended themselves, and her soldier's uniform, which had seen battle on Earth as well as in the Underworld, began to shimmer- until the simple muslin and linen cloth became a rich, forest-green silk. Her tunic lengthened, stretching until it flared behind her calves. Fitted over her chest was the finest armor, emblazoned with pink lotus blossoms and a red dragon.

Sometimes he looked at her and thought, Gosh, I wonder what's underneath all that anger, all that hard glossy armor? Maybe there's just an innocent, wounded little girl in there who wants to come out and play and be loved and get happy. But now he wondered if maybe that little girl was long gone, or if she'd ever been there at all. What was under all that armor, all that anger? More anger, and more armor. Anger and armor, all the way down.

She wore her ferocity like armor, and it was purely asexual armor. Liraz was untouchable and untouched.

Some of us walk around with a necklace of hope, an armour of sanity, but at the end of the day, they always come off. We reveal our naked, vulnerable, real selves.

Oversharing? Not vulnerability; I call it floodlighting. ... A lot of times we share too much information as a way to protect us from vulnerability, and here's why. I'm scared to let you know that I just wrote this article and I'm under total fire for it and people are making fun of me and I'm feeling hurt -- the same thing that I told someone in an intimate conversation. So what I do is I floodlight you with it - I don't know you very well or I'm in front of a big group, or it's a story that I haven't processed enough to be sharing with other people - and you immediately respond "hands up; push me away" and I go, "See? No one cares about me. No one gives a s*** that I'm hurting. I knew it." It's how we protect ourselves from vulnerability. We just engage in a behavior that confirms our fear.

Poems are invisible flowers on my skin.

Wilhelm Reich identified "armor" as the sum total of typical character attitudes, which an individual develops as a blocking against his emotional excitations, resulting in rigidity of the body, lack of emotional contact, "deadness". Functionally identical to muscular armor (chronic muscular spasms)

Standing there, I had the feeling of putting on armour, taking up secret weapons, becoming like a dreamer, invulnerable for the moment—safe in my dream. Now I could face the world, having no part in life; the presence of waiting phantoms could be forgotten. I was outside everything, surrendered unconditionally to my dream, giving no thought to my next move, prepared to obey whatever impulse next reaches me from the unseen.

Watch your back. Ain't a thing in armor worth trustin' out there.

Thank you, Father," Sir Lancelot replied gratefully. "But ... er ... Father?" "Yes, Lancelot?" "You didn't say anything about my armor. Is it not shiny enough?

The Addams dwelling at 25 West Fifty-fourth Street was directly behind the Museum of Modern Art, at the top of the building. It was reached by an ancient elevator, which rumbled up to the twelfth floor. From there, one climbed through a red-painted stairwell where a real mounted crossbow hovered. The Addams door was marked by a "big black number 13," and a knocker in the shape of a vampire. ...Inside, one entered a little kingdom that fulfilled every fantasy one might have entertained about its inhabitant. On a pedestal in the corner of the bookcase stood a rare "Maximilian" suit of armor, which Addams had bought at a good price ("a bargain at $700")... It was joined by a half-suit, a North Italian Morion of "Spanish" form, circa 1570-80, and a collection of warrior helmets, perched on long stalks like decapitated heads... There were enough arms and armaments to defend the Addams fortress against the most persistent invader: wheel-lock guns; an Italian prod; two maces; three swords. Above a sofa bed, a spectacular array of medieval crossbows rose like birds in flight. "Don't worry, they've only fallen down once," Addams once told an overnight guest. ... Everywhere one looked in the apartment, something caught the eye. A rare papier-mache and polychrome anatomical study figure, nineteenth century, with removable organs and body parts captioned in French, protected by a glass bell. ("It's not exactly another human heart beating in the house, but it's close enough." said Addams.) A set of engraved aquatint plates from an antique book on armor. A lamp in the shape of a miniature suit of armor, topped by a black shade. There were various snakes; biopsy scissors ("It reaches inside, and nips a little piece of flesh," explained Addams); and a shiny human thighbone - a Christmas present from one wife. There was a sewing basket fashioned from an armadillo, a gift from another. In front of the couch stood a most unusual coffee table - "a drying out table," the man at the wonderfully named antiques shop, the Gettysburg Sutler, had called it. ("What was dried on it?" a reporter had asked. "Bodies," said Addams.)...

Try these," she suggested. She held out a pair of simple long gauntlets that were almost as fine as gloves, chain underneath and plate on top. Aurora Rose carefully took off the ones she wore and slipped the others on. They fit perfectly. "This is a bit more your style," the blue one said, approaching her with a breastplate that was almost as big as she was. It was curved femininely to fit Aurora Rose's body, but not ridiculously so. A staid design of roses and thorns was inlaid along the sides. It was sturdy, and 'heavy.' The princess had to readjust the way she stood to support it while everyone helped buckle it on the back. "And for the top..." the red one said, looking around. "Let 'her' choose," the green one suggested gently. Aurora Rose walked down the aisle slowly, getting used to the weight of the armor. She passed each of the women and then Phillip- dashing in his shining cuirass and silver-white greaves, like a soldier from ancient Rome. Her eyes swept over everything, everywhere, pausing nowhere. Golden helms, intricate onyx headpieces, spiked and dangerous-looking crowns, plated metal turbans. Finally, she saw what she wanted. She strode forward and lifted a helmet- one she 'knew' would fit- off the top shelf. A point came down the middle of the forehead to protect her nose- and was also vaguely reminiscent of Maleficent's headpiece. But instead of horns, silver wings swept back over the ears. With slow, sure movements she put it on. It 'did' fit. Perfectly. She turned around to show the others. Phillip sucked in his breath. "You look 'magnificent,' Rose. Like- like an ancient goddess of war." "Like victory," the green one said softly.

You put up this steel armor around yourself in the form of hostility and disinterest—whichever works to shield you best at the moment, but that’s not who you are.

Yes, Father. They have the bravest hearts, the noblest souls, and the shiniest armor in all the world.” “Shiniest armor?” repeated King Ban.

You are What you do When it counts" - The Masao

You wear your armor even to dinner, Lady Wilhelmina?" “Of course I wear armor. I am sitting with a pirate, a mercenary, an adventurer, and a bounder. If a shot is not fired tonight, I daresay that your reputations are nothing but lies.

A court of heraldry sprung up to supply the place of crusade exploits, to grant imaginary shields and trophies to families that never wore real armor, and it is but of late that it has been discovered to have no real jurisdiction.

A fortified town is like a man cased in the heavy armor of antiquity, with a horse-load of broadswords and small arms slung to him, endeavoring to go about his business.

Agoraphobia was my quirky armor against a gregarious America.

A lot of my friends have tattoos; I realized that it's not only just a part of pop culture, but a bit of a map on someone's body, which says something about people. A part of their life, like an armor or a crest.

Airplanes have dulled and desensitized us; we are encumbered, like lovers in a suit of armor.

A guy in Greek armor drew his sword and charged, but slipped in a puddle of pina colada.

Ah, my Knight in Shining Armor. What, you don't think I can fend for myself?

All disturbance and chaos folds up in the teeth of truth. Dont ever try to stop truth. Its the only thing that can go through 16-inch armor plate.

A man must at times be hard as nails: willing to face up to the truth about himself, and about the woman he loves, refusing compromise when compromise is wrong. But he must also be tender. No weapon will breach the armor of a woman's resentment like tenderness.

Am I going to have to carry you? If so, it would complete my badass knight-in-shining-armor act with you today.

Armor is heavy, yet it is a proud burden, and a man standeth straight in it.

Danger alone acquaints us with our own resources, our virtues, our armor and weapons, our spirit, and forces us to be strong.

A sense of humor is needed armor.

As long as we let the Word of God be our only armor, we can look confidently into the future.

Be surprised at nothing. Let peace and stillness flood through you and envelop you completely in its cloak. Put on the whole armor of love - and yet feel, feel very deeply. Let tears flow, washing away impurities until you feel clean within and clean without. Become like an empty vessel ready to be filled with life's nectar.

Body armor. Four thousand pounds of body armor. And missile-proof glass? Nice. What had happened to good old-fashioned bulletproof?

Flattery is like a painted armor; only for show.

Even irrefutable evidence is rarely enough to pierce the mental armor of self-justification.

Fortitude is the marshal of thought, the armor of the will, and the fort of reason.

Good thoughts are an impervious armor; clad therewith you are completely shielded from the attacks of error of every sort. And not only yourselves are safe, but all whom your thoughts rest upon are thereby benefited.

Henry V' is a great deal more than almost any other hell-bent-for-armor movie that you've seen.

He shone all over. Only Magnus, Simon thought resignedly, would have access to sequined battle armor.

Here's what I love: when a great writer turns me into a Jew from Chicago, a lesbian out of South Carolina, or a black woman moving into a subway entrance in Harlem. Turn me into something else, writers of the world. Make me Muslim, heretic, hermaphrodite. Put me into a crusader's armor, a cardinal's vestments. Let me feel the pygmy's heartbeat, the queen's breast, the torturer's pleasure, the Nile's taste, or the nomad's thirst. Tell me everything that I must know. Hold nothing back.

Her nudity is her armor. It blinded the drooling fools. They couldn't see anything else while they saw her body.

He stripped off the armor of institutional friendships To dedictate his soul To the terrible deities of Truth and Beauty.

I have my books And my poetry to protect me; I am shielded in my armor, Hiding in my room, safe within my womb. I touch no one and no one touches me. I am a rock, I am an island.

I enjoy playing evil, but not one-dimensional evil characters. I like the ebbs and cracks in the armor.

I'm your knight in shining armor. I'm here to save you from Linkin Park.

I'll show them 'love is worthless,'" Silena Beauregard grumbled as she strapped on her armor. "I'll pulverize them!

I'm more insecure than I ever let anyone know, sometimes you protect yourself with this kind of armor that people see more than they see you.

In any story, the villain is the catalyst. The hero's not a person who will bend the rules or show the cracks in his armor. He's one-dimensional intentionally, but the villain is the person who owns up to what he is and stands by it.

In a photo shoot, you have to be very comfortable in your own skin. It's all about confidence-boosting and putting on armor.

Innocence is like polished armor; it adorns and defends.

It is resignation and contentment that are best calculated to lead us safely through life. Whoever has not sufficient power to endure privations, and even suffering, can never feel that he is armor proof against painful emotions,--nay, he must attribute to himself, or at least to the morbid sensitiveness of his nature, every disagreeable feeling he may suffer.