Best 309 quotes in «western quotes» category

They caught up their horses and turned back. Nothing moved in that high wilderness save the wind. They did not speak. They were men of another time for all that they bore christian names and they had lived all their lives in a wilderness as had their fathers before them. They'd learnt war by warring, the generations driven from the eastern shore across a continent, from the ashes at Gnadenhutten onto the prairies and across the outlet to the bloodlands of the west. If much in the world were mystery the limits of that world were not, for it was without measure or bound and there were contained within it creatures more horrible yet and men of other colors and beings which no man has looked upon and yet not alien none of it more than were their own hearts alien in them, whatever wilderness contained there and whatever beasts.

They began to come upon chains and packsaddles, singletrees, dead mules, wagons. Saddletrees eaten bare of their rawhide coverings and weathered white as bone, a light chamfering of miceteeth along the edges of the wood. They rode through a region where iron will not rust nor tin tarnish. The ribbed frames of dead cattle under their patches of dried hide lay like the ruins of primitive boats upturned upon that shoreless void and they passed lurid and austere the black and desiccated shapes of horses and mules that travelers had stood afoot.

They collided, and rolled toward the precipice. Loose rocks shifted beneath them, causing a small avalanche that carried the two ragged enemies plunging off the edge towards the abyss below.

This ferry was taken over by the Yumas and operated for them by a man named Callaghan, but within days it was burned and Callaghan's headless body floated anonymously downriver, a vulture standing between the shoulderblades in clerical black, silent rider to the sea.

This is a robbery. Sorry for the inconvenience'n'all but if you don't line up out here at the count of five then I'm gonna get all trigger-happy on your ass. One, two...

Understanding why so many western women are giving birth to unnaturally large babies that either damage the birth canal or will not fit down it is one of the greatest challenges to modern medicine.

Tom stood and cautiously walked over to where the thief lay. He kicked the Colt away from the dirty, lifeless fingers and muttered, “You made me waste a perfectly good breakfast, you manure-headed son of a bitch…

Unfortunately for him he looked more like an innocent man on America’s terror watch-list rather than a gallant Viking possessing all the benefits of modernity. More like a villain in a Western fairy tale with his slicked-bouffant obsidian hair rather than the long sun-like curls that all great saviors of the poor have been obliged to possess. I squinted to the side towards him for a second and he caught my gaze almost immediately; his inky irises were comfortable enough to hold my stare indefinitely, his pupils seemed entirely ravenous as opposed to the feminist preferred oceanic turquoise, which for them is a physical demarcation of emotional sensitivity. He seemed like an uncanny bad guy any which way I looked at him, except of course, by his actions thus far…

Unearth marvels as you walk the path, Stand in awe, Therein is the joy of life.

Visitation Day - I was not even born yet when the world stopped turning, twenty years ago. It is hard for me to imagine that moment, though I have heard the tale many times, for I have never seen the light of the moon or a sunrise

Was Jane now. All Jane. Come calamity or come calm, was myself and none else.

Was still between Martha and Jane, then, I was. Between the girl I was and who I wanted to be.

Watching corrupt corporate governments destroy the global environment makes me ashamed to be human.

Was like the Green Man said, some you got to put to the bullet. Some to the tongue. Often the latter, with me. But some, you just got to put behind you.

wasn’t no bit of me willing to ride shotgun to my own funeral.

We all end up dying in the end. It’s just a question of how and when.

Well, for one, you walk around like you’re so much better than everyone else. We’re all a bunch of soulless animals or somethin’ in your eyes, I guess. You’re the high and mighty one and I ain’t fit to drink your piss.

We don't want to settle down anymore; we've been settled, like some western township, and now we want to kick up the dust and tear down the fences. Not only won't we settle down; we also won't settle for less than what we've always wanted: a good time and a fair fight.

We live in truly unbelievable times. Autism is an epidemic in most western countries, western governments are nothing more than corrupt corporations, and corporations are routinely suppressing information regarding the toxicity of many common household items. The result is that many people are unnecessarily suffering from easily preventable developmental problems, sickness and cancer.

We'll ride along the river. It's a mighty pretty sight..." Puffy white clouds floated across the azure blue sky. Pine-covered mountains crowned with snowcaps folded down into foothills that ringed the valley. Beneath the clouds the play of sun and shadow cast hazy blue-green patches on the mountainsides. A distant large-winged bird rode on air currents before diving into a clump of trees.

Well you know what they say. It’s always raining somewhere.

...'Well, I think of you as a straight shooter, Sheriff, but one who can't stop lustin' after the goddamn ineffable.' "She said that, hunh?" "Yup." "Shitfire, Sheriff, what'd you do?" "Well, I shot her.

Well one tiny poisonous spider can kill a very large man if it bites him in the right place.

What? An alien. You think I'm from outer space." She snorts in disbelief. "I'm Kelly Tillman, you dumb-ass. From 41 Montana Avenue, Valentine, Texas. What's left of it. I canned seventh grade for a piece-of-crap job with lousy tips and lousy hours. You ain't telling me I'm the outsider here. No way.

Western corporate governments are far more likely to damage your health or kill you prematurely than anyone from North Korea.

Western police officers are an arguably corrupt group of people that have rigged the system to make them almost untouchable.

Western governments use thermal heating standards for public protection from the damaging effects of wireless radio frequency (RF) radiation. Eastern governments use biological standards that are much lower due to the extensive long term radiation damage that has been seen to occur in humans at the western thermal heating standard.

Westerns have often been considered the ugly stepchild of genre writing...

What do you men wear (to swim)?" Laughter glinted in his green eyes and he slanted her a mischievous grin. "Since Mrs. Carter came here to live, we swim in old pants cut off at the knees." Warmth crept up her cheeks. Bad enough to think of a bare-chested Nick swimming in the pool without thinking of him naked.

what I like and what I need’s two different things.

When giving up is not an option, you survive at any cost.

What you mons making all the racket about? You wake me again and I’ll put the voodoo hex on you. All you only call me Tuberculosis behind my back now. You want the real thing?” Sergeant "T. B" Tinkerbelle Bettina Jones.

What man didn’t join his wife on their wedding night?

Will was now all man. And all cowboy.

Why is it a man can never seem to buckle down and train himself to indolence and stupidity when he can see what sanctuary they offer from toil and pain?

Yong is the outer manifestation of something. Ti is the underlying essence. Technology is a yong associated with a particular ti that is ... Western, and completely alien to us [the Chinese]. For centuries, since the time of the Opium Wars, we have struggled to absorb the yong of technology without importing the Western ti. But it has been impossible. Just as our ancestors could not open our ports to the West without accepting the poison of opium, we could not open our lives to Western technology without taking in the Western ideas, which have been as a plague on our society. The result has been centuries of chaos.

Yōshoku is the Japanese take on Western foods; much of it was created during the Meiji period (1868-1912), when, after centuries of isolation, Japan began importing goods and ideas from the outside world, including food. Yōshoku dishes such as hambaagu (salisbury steak in brown sauce), curry rice, potato croquettes, and "spaghetti naporitan" are now much-loved comfort food. They're also so unlike the dishes that inspired them that they tend to be really hard for Westerners to appreciate.

You know what I want?” Drey asked. “Name it.” Hawk knew he would move heaven and earth if she asked him. She stood and started taking off her clothes. “I’m not sure where exactly this is headed, but I’m liking it,” he said.

You know, you really don't have to kill anyone over this. I'll get an annulment. It will be like never happened" His eyes came to her, briefly meeting her gaze before dropping to her mouth. "You'll have to make that a divorce instead" "No you don't understand. An annulment will be much easier to obtain" His gaze locked with hers now. Cassie became slightly breathless with the intensity of his stare. "Not after tonight, it won't." He said in his mesmerizing drawl. "Why?" She barely got the word out. "Because i'm in the mood to play husband" "You're what?" He started toward her. She was too stunned to move, so he was there and reaching for her before she had time to think about running. "We're having a wedding night," he said as he lifted her off her feet.--

You stand there, braced. Cloud shadows race back over the buff rock stacks as a projected film, casting a queasy, mottled ground rash. The air hisses and it is no local breeze but the great harsh sweep of wind from the turning of the earth. The wild country -- indigo jags of mountain, grassy plain everlasting, tumbled stones like fallen cities, the flaring roll of sky -- provokes a spiritual shudder. It is like a deep note that cannot be heard but is felt, it is like a claw in the gut.

You’re a real cowboy.” He laughed. “You’re just now realizing that?

You're so pretty, Elizabeth,... Why, I'd never have taken you for a spinster.

You’re staring,” she said as she cut her eyes to him. Clayton lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I like what I see.

You shut your door to these poor women," he said so they could hear him, "and you'll answer for it the rest of your lives. You won't sleep. You'll choke on drinks. The food you eat'll block up your bowels and you'll die of your own shit.

Almost every other Western in the last ten years has failed, since Dances with Wolves.

As soon as you impose Western chords on an Indian scale, something great collapses.

Any story that Billy Wilder told, you can tell in a Western.

Art is the Western myth, with which we both console ourselves and make ourselves.

As filmmakers, the Western is a historic, cool thing to be a part of once in your life.

Canada has had populist movements in the past, virtually since its inception. I don't think the central Canadian elites have ever understood populism at all, particularly the Western version of it.