Best 65 quotes in «bruises quotes» category

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.

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

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

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

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.

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!

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.

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.

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

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

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.

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.

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?

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

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

Everybody loses. We all got bruises.

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

Bruises that are ugly And painful And more than skin deep

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.

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.

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

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!

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.

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

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

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.

Bruises fade. Death is permanent.

But when I thought I hit bottom, it started hitting back. There is no bruise like the bruise loneliness kicks into your spine.

Comedy to me is all about the bumps and bruises and weird tics.

don't make me regret this" I said, breathless. " You haven't regretted me once". He kissed me, and I answered so hungrily I thought my lips would bruise. Patch&Nora ( p. 180)

For the people of God, the Word of God leaves pleasant bruises.

God has mercifully ordered that the human brain works slowly; first the blow, hours afterwards the bruise.

Authority without wisdom is like a heavy ax without an edge -- fitter to bruise than polish.

God in Christ has taken into Himself the brokenness of the human condition. Hence, human woundedness, brokenness, death itself are transformed from dead ends to doorways into Life. In the divinizing humanity of Christ, bruises become balm.

Hearts don't break, y'all. They bruise and get better.

His brows rose. “And how is it that you have come to be such an expert on scrapes and bruises?” “I’m a governess,” she said. Because really, that ought to be explanation enough.

Hey I bruise," Hale said. "Also, you are freakishly strong.

He always apologized, and sometimes he would even cry because of the bruises he'd made on her arms or legs or her back. He would say that he hated what he'd done, but in the next breath tell her she'd deserved it. That if she'd been more careful, it wouldn't have happened. That if she'd been paying attention or hadn't been so stupid, he wouldn't have lost his temper.

I can't stop thinking about cutting myself up. Visual bruises can be covered with make-up, but down to the core, I'm all bruises.

I could only stare, any sense that maybe I understood him evaporating as it always did. I'd glimpse something underneath, and he'd snatched it away so fast it left bruises that called me a fool for hoping for more.

I bruise easily so be gentle when you handle me.

Hollywood sucks. I've got the bruises to prove it.

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

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.

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.