Best 350 quotes in «badass quotes» category

Badass.'" My grandfather sampled the flavor of the word. It did not seem to revolt him, but it was nothing he needed ever to sample again.

Be carefree badass…

But still she stood, ready to get back at it. Badass and admirable.

Cotter leaned forward. "Where do you get off being such a bossy bitch?" I looked him dead in the eyes. "I was born a bossy birch, so you can either roll with it or get rolled over.

Don't think for second you are not a badass warrior. That's precisely your problem, you don't realize how amazingly brilliant and super kickass you are. Your potential is only limited by your mind.

Dorothea: "What the fuck are you?" Nix: "A man who wanted to be a God...then changed his mind.

Evil is Evil. Lesser, greater, middling… Makes no difference. The degree is arbitary. The definition’s blurred. If I’m to choose between one evil and another… I’d rather not choose at all.

Goodbye, Dr Goldstein.' I start to walk away, then stop and turn. 'Oh, and for the record my name's Charlotte.' And turning back, I keep on walking. Somehow I don't think that's a name he's going to forget in a hurry.

Have you a point in this mission, other than to piss me off and insult me? In which case, mission accomplished, but your life is drawing perilously close to its end as a result." Falcyn

He closed his eyes. Mazana or Avallon, Avallon or Mazana. The choice seemed no clearer now than it had ever been. The future offered two paths, but what did you do when you wanted to walk both, you wanted to walk neither? The answer seemed obvious suddenly. You made your own path, of course. A new path entirely. He opened his eyes again. In the room behind, Kolloken was whistling. You mean you ain’t done worse in your time? Senar pictured Uriel sitting next to Mazana in Olaire, learning to use water-magic. The Guardian hadn’t known the boy well. In truth, he’d never tried to get to know him, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t feel the sting of his death. Maybe in Kolloken’s place he would have done the same; he didn’t know. What he did know, though, was that he wouldn’t have been whistling about it afterward. He wouldn’t have blamed Mazana for what happened like he was the one who’d been wronged. A coldness settled on him, and he pushed himself away from the wall. Then he turned and went back into Kolloken’s room, closing the door behind.

Hello, Kanta. They're saying interesting things about you on the news," she said. "I wondered if you'd survived." "He didn't," I said. "I killed him." Silence. "I killed Mkhai, too," I said. "Tens of thousands of years, gone in the blink of an eye." "Why are you telling me this?" asked the voice. "Because you're next," I said. "I'm the demon slayer. Come and get me.

Her stories were made of badass women teasing monsters and running wild with dragons.

He was going to find this kitten had claws.

How long have you been with Raphael?” “You ask a lot of questions for a dead woman.” “What can I say? I prefer to die well-informed.

I am beyond good and evil at this point. I am beyond the lines drawn in the sand by society at this juncture. I am beyond fear, beyond religion, beyond the morals and mores. I am Lord of the Fucking Flies. Do you understand?

I am a total badass. A fat badass.

I do not take orders from women.” “My men do not have a similar problem.” Lada lifted a hand. The man fell, a crossbow bolt sticking out of his chest.

I don't need to resort to threats when I have facts on my side.

I don't want to make her [Maggie] a target again," I said. Michael sighed patiently. "Harry," he said, as if speaking to a rather slow child,"I'm not sure if you noticed this. But things did not turn out well for the last monster who raised his hand against your child. Or any of his friends. Or associates. Or anyone who worked for him. Or for most of the people he knew.

if God is all-powerful, He cannot be all good. And if He is all good, then He cannot be all-powerful. And neither can you be.

I'm death's lover and I'm going to break death's heart.

I'm only an old gleeeman,' he said from the door. 'Who could I possibly be dangerous to?

I'm pissed like this rutting beast can't conceive - I'm a lifetime of pissed, of strong, of muscle built over bruise, I'm slick with power and feel the fight as it changes... As it flows... ...Everything into place, perfect, and I finally do what I was born to do. I slay.

I'm not talking about faith in God, I'm talking about faith in Mark Watney

In Heathrow a vast chunk of memory detached itself from a blank bowl of airport sky and fell on him. He vomited into a blue plastic canister without breaking stride.

In the broad field of Russian letters in the USSR, I was the one and only literary wolf. I was advised to dye my fur. Absurd advice. You can dye a wolf, clip a wolf - he still doesn't look like a poodle. - to Joseph Stalin, May 30, 1931

It isn't hard until you tell yourself it is. So stop telling yourself it is!

I whirled around. “It wasn’t just a kiss,” I said. I was getting really mad. “Maybe that’s how you wanted it to look, like it was just a kiss. But you and I both know what it really was: A media event. And one that you’ve been planning since you saw me in the Post. Well, thank you, Josh, but I can get my own publicity. I don’t need you.

Maxon: “To be clear, no one agrees with you.” America: “To be clear, I don’t care.

Matt was the antidote to fear and trepidation. It was as if he’d become so acquainted with death that he could sit in its lap and ask it to tell him bedtime stories.

Meow, Meow, Motherfucker.

My gaze moved to Vance. He was looking up at me and I could read nothing in his eyes. "Another pop?" I asked. He shook his head but kept watching me. I looked at the floor and started from the room. I had to pass Vance's chair to get to the kitchen. As I did, I slowed and as if it had a mind of it's own, my hand came out and I ran the backs of my finger's along Vance's jaw.

No,' she said. 'No, I don't reckon that's what I do now. Are you watchin', Mrs Gogol? Are you watchin' real close?' Her gaze travelled the room and rested for just a fraction of a second on Magrat. Then she reached over, carefully, and thrust her arm up to the elbow into the burning torch. And the doll in Erzulie Gogol's hands burst into flame. It went on blazing even after the witch had screamed and dropped it on to the floor. It went on burning until Nanny Ogg ambled over with a jug of fruit juice from the buffet, whistling between her teeth, and put it out. Granny withdrew her hand. It was unscathed.

Once we were outside, I was so excited I could hardly stand it. “Grandmère!” I yelled. “What’d you say to them? What’d you say to convince them to let me go?” But Grandmère just laughed in this scary way and said, “I have my ways.” Boy, did I ever not hate her then.

One of many beautiful young girls in traditional hijab came up to me to have her photo signed. Her green eyes glistened as she looked at me directly and asked, “Can you put ‘Women can be heroes, too’?” I met everyday heroines on this trip–ladies with a glow and a sparkle, a determination and a strength in the face of adversity. We did have tremendous fun in the making of Agent Carter, but the positive effect–particularly on young women–is what I hold closest to my heart. I met a girl named Nada at the convention. She said, “Most people think my name means ‘Nothing,’ but in fact it means ‘dewdrop’ and ‘honesty’ in my culture.” Whatever happens in the future for Peggy, and the show, Season One and its small impact on young girls are a drop of positivity in our world. Peggy is an honest girl following her own moral compass in the face of adversity. She makes us strive to be better than we want to be. Thank you, Marvel, for letting me step into her high heels, apply her lipstick, and fight the good fight. For all you little Peggys out there, you are not alone. Go forth and kick ass.

People keep giving me rings. But I think a small death ray might be more practical.

Save the drama for the queens. Stand alone be a wolf, a rebel, a warrior, a savage, a badass. Be anything but a damn drama queen!

She smiled at him. It was her special smile. Her please go away you piece of sub-proletarian turd smile.

She wore trousers, because skirts were stupid, and boots, 'cuz stuff needed to be kicked.

Simon looked for his friend Jace, who was kneeling by himself in the overgrown grass and sharpening a short blade against a stone. Simon assumed Jace had his reasons for this; or possibly he just knew he looked cool doing it. Possibly he and Isabelle could do a joint photo shoot for Badass Monthly.

Since the dawn of time, nearly every man (and I'd wager to guess most women) has, at his most visceral level, secretly desired for one thing - to be standing triumphantly atop a heaping pile of his slain enemies, holding a gigantic axe aloft while some unbelievably attractive member of whatever gender he's attracted to desperately clutches his leg like it's the last life raft on the HMS Titanic.

So fuck Dan. Fuck the police. Fuck the doctors. Fuck Jerome. And fuck the infected!

So that we're clear," Perry said, "I don't care if it means everyone on this earth loses any chance of surviving. If you mention her to me again, I will take your head off and watch your blood pool at my feet.

Sou uma arma feita de carne, uma espada coberta de pele. Nasci para matar um rei, para acabar com um reino de terror antes mesmo de começar pra valer. Fogo e eletricidade elevaram Maven, e fogo e eletricidade vão derrubá-lo.

Soze shook his head. “If someone checks our Internet search records, don’t you think it will look suspicious that before we called the police, we checked up on the evidence?” Poe laughed mirthlessly. “We’re Rose & Grave, junior. Everything we do looks suspicious.

Starke, release me or I’ll kick you in the balls.” And that would hurt, given the current rock-hard state of that area.

Stay Longer and you will hear the beginning of your death

Technology won’t protect you from being attacked for fresh water. A badass blade will. Back in Eden where I grew up, the closest thing to knifework I’d experienced was cutting up a loaf of warm bread. Last night, I’d gutted a wild prairie chicken after scaling a rock face to find its nest and slit its throat. What a difference a year makes.

The girl might have an unsettling crying problem, but she was pure steel.

The mists seemed to draw back. Waxillium stood there, wearing a large, dusterlike coat, cut into strips below the waist. A pair of revolvers gleamed in holsters at his hips, and he rested a shotgun on each shoulder. His face was bloodied, but he was smiling.