Best 140 quotes in «tattoo quotes» category

No one wants to see a tattoo on a stomach.

Most Shadowhunters get their first Marks at twelve. It must have been in your blood.” “Maybe. Although I doubt most Shadowhunters get a tattoo of Donatello from the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles on their left shoulder.” Jace looked baffled. “You wanted a turtle on your shoulder?” -Jace & Clary, pg. 314-

My muse can take the form of a landscape, an era, a style of writing, a piece of music, and, perhaps that which I find strangest of all for a muse, a human female. Of course, she's also adept at taking the form of toothless old Japanese men or young English lads with tattoos.

My tattoo is a phoenix. I got the first when I was 16. I hid it for years.

Tattoo. What a loaded word it is, rife with associations to goons, goofs, bikers, tribal warriors, carnival artists, drunken sailors and floozies.

Now I meet people with full-color Wolverine tattoos on their backs. Thank God I did okay, because I think if I hadn't, they'd spit on me in the street.

Now the tattoos," Zia announced. "Brilliant!" I said. "On your tongue," she added. "Excuse me?

People like to come up to me and tell me that I’ve got nice ink. Except these tattoos aren’t just decorations. They are declarations. Every tattoo I have tells its own story about who I am. Drug-free. Honor. And a war against the system.

Maybe. Although I doubt most Shadowhunters get a tattoo of Donatello from the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles on their left shoulder.

Take care of the sense and the sounds will take care of themselves.

Tattoos are so widespread, so ugly and so very, very permanent. You can, in theory, have them removed - but a large chunk of your living flesh will go with it.

The cafe was called Tattoos. The fella who owned it didn't have any tattoos... but we never saw his wife.

We all originally came from the woods! it is hard to eradicate from any of us the old taste for the tattoo and the war-paint; and the moment that money gets into our pockets, it somehow or another breaks out in ornaments on our person, without always giving refinement to our manners.

The greatest thing you'll ever learn Is just to love and be loved in return.

We are all tattooed in our cradles with the beliefs of our tribe; the record may seem superficial, but it is indelible.

There comes a time in a man's life when to get where he has to go - if there are no doors or windows he walks through a wall.

You have to have your face in the food. These days people think a tattoo and a bottle of Sriracha equals success.

Your tattoos are supposed to be some connection to your personality. That's a lot more important than going in and just picking one off a wall. I've never understood why people get butterflies tattooed on their bottoms or whatever. That's really weird.

A colorful body with fabrics, tattoos and jewelry is attractive, but a colorful heart with love, truth and faith is beautiful.

A mind wanders, thoughts flee and memories fade. But tattoos, tattoos are forever. And if it is true to say that we carry ourselves with when we travel - then the body may very well be a beautiful canvas for the timeless lessons we learn and will learn when we travel.

Being open-minded dramatically reduces one’s chances of getting a permanent tattoo.

Cal opens a drawer, pulls out a sketch pad and charcoal and sets them down on a drafting table. 'Let's draw.' I smile the way I did as a child when receiving a fresh box of 64 Crayola crayons, unabashedly showing all my teeth. I remember how much I used to love to draw, and I wonder why I don't do it anymore. I write, I guess. I draw with words, but when I see Cal's pad and charcoal, I'm overwhelmed with the feeling that it's not the same. I use my words, my artist's charcoal to describe what I'm thinking. He draws with an imperfect fluidity, pausing only occasionally to shade the drawing with his thumb or brush the paper with the back of his hands. He listens and nods and doesn't interrupt. And when I'm done speaking he looks at the drawing, and his eyes get really big. Slowly, he turns his pad around for me to see. My heart stops and then starts. 'Yes,' I say. It's perfect. Alive with added detail and beautiful Inuit soulfulness I couldn't have even imagined sitting outside in my car. My fear is gone. There's a tingling in my skin, like I can feel the thousand needle pricks to come. I am alive.

Every broken piece of me fell on every broken piece of you and when I took the missing parts, like the emptiness of me I saw the emptiness of you and I poured my half upon you to fill you whole. I risked it all just to dream you complete and catch you one day free in the wild.

Everything I have become, everything I will ever accomplish cannot compare to my most impressive feat: I have loved you fiercely and assiduously with the very marrow inside my bones. So that when I die, they can crack them to find you there. So that when I die, they can open me up and see your name tattooed on the wall of my heart. So that when I die, my epitaph will neither commemorate who I was nor what I did, but will read: “She loved. And loved. And loved.” And so, I smile now, because that is no small thing.

Excuse me, I feel interrupted and I think I've overdose from the idea of loving you.

He wore his fear on his skin for everyone to see.

His hands shift to my shoulders, and his fingers brush over the edge of my bandage. He pulls back with a puckered brow. “Are you hurt?” he asks. “No. It’s another tattoo. It’s healed, I just…wanted to keep it covered up.” “Can I see?” I nod, my throat tight. I pull my sleeve down and slip my shoulder out of it. He stares down at my shoulder for a second, and then runs his fingers over it. They rise and fall with my bones, which stick out farther than I’d like. When he touches me, I feel like everywhere his skin meets mine is changed by the connection. It sends a thrill through my stomach. Not just fear. Something else, too. A wanting. He peels the corner of the bandage away. His eyes roam over the symbol of Abnegation, and he smiles. “I have the same one,” he says, laughing. “On my back.” “Really? Can I see it?” He presses the bandage over the tattoo and pulls my shirt back over my shoulder. “Are you asking me to undress, Tris?” A nervous laugh gurgles from my throat. “Only…partially.

How could I live above the water or breathe under it. How could I swim in darkness consumed in an ocean of you? Falling or flying towards you, losing or finding myself in you and beauty was never the word to catch all that you are. For now I know the means of the infinite and it all starts and ends with you.

I arrived, I saw humans and I saw through their faces. Nothing ever changes but the light in their eyes. For I too have buried my demons today, without knowing what might remain beneath the face of tomorrow.

I don't know. I had to be something, didn't I?

If I decide to get a tattoo, it'll be a map of where I live on my chest in case I ever get amnesia.

If you die, I’m dating your corpse.” “I’m being cremated.” “I’ll date your urn.” “My urn already has a boyfriend. They’re really serious too.” Cooper laughed against my neck then wrapped himself around my waist, swallowing me up with his warm embrace. “My pop has my mom’s name on his wrist,” Cooper whispered against my cheek. “Underneath, he has my name along with the lesser crap kids he got stuck with.” “I’m in college,” I blurted out. “Yeah, I remember you mentioning that.” “Tattoos. Kids. Dating my corpse. Seems serious.” Leaning back, Cooper adjusted me so I rested against his chest. “I always planned to settle down when I was an old fart like my pop. Meet some cute piece of jailbait and make a few bad seeds plus one decent kid I could trust with the family business. Instead, here I am not even done with college with a tattoo of my girl’s name on my wrist.” “You could change your mind.” “I won’t. You’re a keeper.” “I could change my mind,” I said, wiggling my brows at him. “Who would you replace me with? Seriously, look around and see what shit pickings you have to choose from. I’m the best you’ll ever do, baby.” “You are pretty sexy. Tall too. Yeah, I can see keeping you around.” A grinning Cooper glanced at Aaron. “I’m so whipped.” “It’s pretty nauseating, yeah.

I had never seen an incomplete tattoo before and it seemed to me that it served as evidence that his life, like mine, was abruptly halted mid-way through.

Hey, check this out," Eric said, pulling up his sleeve and holding out his arm. The name Ariel was written out- in mer runes! It circled his arm like the sort of band a warrior would wear, and glistened with oil he had rubbed into it. "Eric! What did you do?" "What? Don't you like it?" "I love it, but..." "Until we have wedding rings, I thought it was a nice permanent commitment. Argent did it! Sebastian helped me with the letters." "It... must have hurt." "You have no idea. That's how much I love you," he said, kissing her on the forehead.

I kept loving and loving and loving. Every waking hour, I marveled on how these moments would make made me feel. I wanted to love the world and be the change it so deliciously craved.

I kill people with my tattoo machine.

Ill love you with every little bit of everything that has ever consumed me and I will forever love you and forever find you in every life time and so on. Until the stars die out and the universe leaps but even then, my love will remain.

In finnish: "Ajan myötä lohikäärme ja kirin loivat rupensa ja veivät muodonmuutoksensa loppuun asti, ja niin niistä tuli osa ruumistani. Nyt ne olivat oikeasti omaisuuttani - sana, jota käytin mielelläni ajatellessani niitä. Mutta oli myös mahdollista, että niiden arvo alenisi uutuudenviehätyksen kadottua. Samaan tapaan saattaa omistaa upean mekon, joka saa olon tuntumaan mahtavalta. Mutta eipä aikaakaan, kun se on pelkkä vaatekappale muiden joukossa. Olin kai siinä mielessä ollut aina oikukas ja viskannut vaatteita kaapinperälle käytettyäni niitä vain pari, kolme kertaa. Näkemykseni avioliitosta on paljolti samanlainen. Näen sen tilanteena, jossa kaksi ihmistä yrittää omistaa toisensa. Tai vaikka ei olisikaan naimisissa, pojat yrittävät aina jotain tuonsuuntaista: mitä kauemmin heidän kanssaan on, sitä enemmän he yrittävät asteittain kasvattaa valtaansa toiseen ihmiseen.

No hay problema," Orlando agreed. "But you haven't said where?" His eyes grazed over the rumpled tux, Aiden not having thought about where the tattoo might go. Isabel had an answer. "His neck." "My neck?" "Tiene cojones," Orlando said slyly grinning. "Yes, your neck. It'll be your thing, you know, when you're famous--like an insigna. It's sexy and dangerous. Aidan's going to be a famous rock star, Orlando." Aidan admired her confidence. "From her lips ..." "I surely hope, mis amigos, because putting that thing on your neck does not say nine-to-fice employment.

I ride with my tattoo of three red hearts, intertwined with barbed wire, emblazoned across my lower back, two birthdates delicately etched above each heart. The dates remind me of the day my life changed for the better with each child's birth. The larger heart anchors the two smaller ones, albeit with barbed wire, but anchors them securely to each other - a reminder that a mother's relationship with her daughters is sometimes thorny and sometimes smooth. Regardless of the heartache, she stands securely in between as the anchor, her daughters' her most treasured glory.

I think i should get love inked on my skin. Maybe that's the only way i am destined to keep it.

It occurred to me that my cheek was probably right over his tattoo. Without thinking, I lifted my face and tugged at the neckline of his T-shirt. This time, the stark black-and-gold mark wasn't hidden. No need for that spell anymore, I guess. Still, I covered it with my palm. Archer's hands clutched reflexively on my waist. Our eyes met. "It doesn't burn this time," I whispered. His breathing was ragged. "Beg to differ, Mercer.

i want the moon tattooed on my wrists my grandmother keeps asking me to pray, i don’t have the heart to tell her that my poems are the only God i have left in me my mother keeps leaving without saying goodbye i wish she’d let me cut my hair in the 7th grade, maybe i’d know how to deal with loss by now i told myself i’d stop kissing boys who didn’t know my name i said, i’d stop picking at my bones like broken decorations, i’d quit with the smoking and the drunken poems, and when i said things like “my bones are heavy” i would only mean it as a good thing heavy bones can’t be broken, you can’t break heavy bones

I want to see this video," I say. "Seriously?" asks Tattoo. "Want popcorn too?

I want you to tattoo me." "Tattoo? I don't know how." "You draw," Jimena explained. "That's all you need to know to do a jailhouse tattoo. I'll tell you the rest." An hour later the tattoo of a crescent moon and star was bleeding on Jimena's arm. "It looks good," Catty said with pride. "Yeah." Jimena stood in front of the mirror and admired Catty's work. Excitement ran through her when she looked at herself. She glanced at Catty and knew she was feeling the same. They stared at each other's reflections. "You look... like a goddess," Catty said, smiling. Jimena remembered she no longer had her gift. Could she even call herself a goddess now? With rising self-assurance, she knew it was her rightful title. The power was inside her.

Magic is when you live your life the way you didn’t picture it and leave nothing behind.

Maybe all that we are is what people expect us to be.

Maybe one day we’ll find that place, where you and I could be together and we’ll catch our dreams within the waves of change. So hear me, you are not alone.

Maybe that's what I needed. Another tattoo. Some pain on the outside to ease the pain on the inside.

Maybe what this is. What we have, is something that will save us from ourselves.