Best 65 quotes in «bruises quotes» category

If a piece of worthless stone can bruise a cup of gold, its worth is not increased, nor that of the gold diminished.

I feel like I envision a lot of hamstrings getting pulled and a lot of bumps and bruises out there.

I'll never forget one morning I walked in and I had a hell of a bruise - it had been a difficult night the night before - and a client said to me, 'Good God, Vidal, what happened to your face?' And I said, 'Oh, nothing, madam, I just fell over a hairpin.'

I have to admit, that's a remarkable bruise. You should be proud; it's quite a feat to get injured in the manner you did and in that...particular...place.

I'm the most uncoordinated clumsy, klutzy person. I always had a bruise, I always tripped and fell.

In order not to feel time's horrid fardel bruise your shoulders, grinding you into the earth, get drunk and stay that way. On what? On wine, poetry, virtue, whatever. But get drunk!

I must fling myself down and writhe; I must strive with every piece of force I possess; I bruise and batter myself against the floor, the walls; I strain and sob and exhaust myself, and begin again, and exhaust myself again; but do I feel pain? Never. How can I feel pain? There is no place for it.

I have no real tattoos. I wear my bruises and tons of scars as my tattoos.

Injuries, burns, and bruises will heal. But victory lasts forever.

Let's just say it was damn hard [to make the Hangover]. I've got the bumps and bruises to show for it. It's funny because things that don't even look that bad on screen were still extremely painful.

Just because I do what I do doesn't mean I escaped adolescence, all the bumps and bruises that go along with it.

Men have feelings too, you know. You bruise the petals of my manflower.

Let the blood and the bruises define your legacy.

I wish emotional bruises healed like physical ones.

No matter how much I feel, I’m not going to let it out. If I have to cry, I’m gonna cry on the inside. If I have to bleed, I’ll bruise. If my heart starts going crazy, I’m not gonna tell everyone in the world about it. It doesn’t help anything. It just makes everyone’s life worse.

Nobody cares that you're smart and nobody cares that your kids don't have bruises.

Life might hurt, might bruise, might forever scar, but it was for living.

Ow!" said Horace as the Ranger's fingers probed and poked around the bruise. Did that hurt?" Halt asked, and Horace looked at him with exasperation. Of course it did," he said sharply. "That's why I said 'ow!

Okay, yeah, he staggered back and fell into the condiments. Big deal. There wasn't any blood. I didn't even get him in the face. He saw my fist coming, and at the last minute he ducked, so instead of punching him in the nose, like I intended, I ended up punching him in the neck. I highly doubt it even left a bruise.

Sarcasm is not the rapier of wit its wielders seem to believe it to be, but merely a club: it may, by dint of brute force, occasionally raise bruises, but it never cuts or pierces.

She fell asleep, leaning on his chest, and he edged her a little off a particularly painful bruise, leaned his head back against the tree he had propped them up against, and closed his own eyes.

Tate grabbed me, hugging me so hard, I knew I'd have bruises. He was probably unaware of it, not having had much time to get used to his new strength. I pushed at him, "Tate...you're squeezing me too hard." He let go of me so fast I almost staggered. "Oh Christ, I can't do anything right!

The accolades, just like the scrapes and bruises, fade in the end, and all you're left with is your ambition.

The handkerchief dabbed at my forehead. 'Ouch! You'll have a fine-looking bruise tomorrow.' 'Then you'll be able to distinguish me from Rose.' The handkerchief paused. 'I could tell you apart from the beginning. You're quite different to each other, you know.' Perhaps he could tell, in the obvious ways. The odd one was Rose; the other odd one was Briony.

The human heart is like a millstone in a mill: when you put wheat under it, it turns and grinds and bruises the wheat to flour; if you put no wheat, it still grinds on, but then 'tis itself it grinds and wears away.

There should be a drama series about women trying to figure out their mystery leg bruises.

When I was in my 20s, I thought I knew who I was. And then as soon as I turned 30, I realized that I have bruises and bumps and dark parts. And you kind of go, well, that's it. I'd rather embrace it than force myself to change.

To be sure, theory is useful. But without warmth of heart and without love it bruises the very ones it claims to save.

Usually when you're working on fight scenes, you don't really feel what's going on physically. It's more when you go back home and you're like, "My god!," and you wear the wounds or bruises with a certain amount of pride.

The words we speak to each other should leave stretch marks, not bruises. Love is always picky about what it says.

Why didn't he say goodbye? I gave myself a bruise. Why didn't he say 'I love you'?

We did some cool wire work in 'The Pact' - they had me strapped to a harness underneath my shirt so they could fling me around the house and slam me into doors. I definitely got some bruises even with all the padding!

You get mad at me, you kick the tire, I don't get a bruise, the tire doesn't care, and you're the only one hurting. How's that working for you, Kip?

and I wanted this girl who was like no girl I had ever known, wanted her not in spite of her moods and her secret bruises and her sad attempts at artifice but because of them, because of them all.

Wo wei ni xie de,” he said, as he raised the violin to his left shoulder, tucking it under his chin. He had told her many violinists used a shoulder rest, but he did not: there was a slight mark on the side of his throat, like a permanent bruise, where the violin rested. “You — made something for me?” Tessa asked. “I wrote something for you,” he corrected, with a smile, and began to play.

Bruises that are ugly And painful And more than skin deep

Even when battered and broken, he was beautiful. Yes, a guy could be beautiful. Especially if that guy was Deandre.

Don’t worry if you fall, sweet girl. Youth is made for bruises.

it was the kind of moon that I would want to send back to my ancestors and gift to my descendants so they know that I too, have been bruised...by beauty.

Everybody loses. We all got bruises.

I used to pray you know, pray to God that He would somehow stop it. All the nights of listening to my mother scream and things breaking. Of holding my brother and sister and listening to them cry and begging me to stop it.' My voice is slow and steady like a freight train at night. 'I was too young, and we were always told that they'd put us in foster homes where people would rape us if we ever said anything. So we explained away the bruises and my mom wore big sunglasses whenever she left the house. And we invented car accidents if the bruising was too bad to cover with make-up.

You proceed from a false assumption: I have no ego to bruise.

Someday those bruises inside you will heal. You can't know when someday will come, or what life will look like when it finally does. ... But in a way it doesn't even matter because someday isn't what we have. What we have is right now, this moment, when things aren't okay yet, but in a way they are already, because in the end they will be, and as long as that's true, it's enough.

She met a boy and called him Stargazer because instead of poems he recited the names of constellations. He said the freckles on his arms were roadmaps to the sky, and the bruises that he carried were supernovas in disguise. "Stargazer

A flower, if you bruise it under your feet, rewards you by giving you its perfume.

What the hell was that?” he asked no-one in particular. “Did they ram us?” “Uh – negative, sir.” Marnetti offered, reading an instrumental assessment from his display, “It seems we were hit by some kind of pulse wave generated by their jump.” “Their jump? – You mean by arriving they nearly killed us?” Marnetti nodded, continuing, “Range 0.5 kilometers, Captain. Holding steady. No recognized weapons activity.” “Damage report.” He ordered, feeling his way back into his seat, eyes glued to the viewscreen. “Shield 2 down, 1 is buckling.” Pluddeman choked. “Power stable, all systems holding steady,” Marnetti added, now rubbing some bruises. “Any communications?” “Nothing, sir. Static on all frequencies.” “What are they doing?” “Nothing, sir. Waiting maybe.” “Waiting, my ass!” Dayne barked. “They must be sizing us up!

And while some healing does happen, it isn't a healing of redemption or epiphany. It's more like the slow absorption of a bruise.

Artists hold out the mirror to the bruises on the face of the world.

you are ever the only one i want to give all the peaches in my heart to the only one by whom i want them bruised.

Bruises fade. Death is permanent.