Best 2968 quotes in «hero quotes» category

If I have to dangle myself in the water like a freaking minnow, I will. Those people don't deserve this type of treatment. ~Willow Mosby (Exposing ELE)

If I thought I’d been drawn to her, now I knew, I’d been taken, kidnapped, caged, destroyed, and all the other things that went with someone having complete power over another.

If monkey became a man, then a man can become a hero.

If not for tragedy, tyrants, and injustice, there would be nothing to awaken and inspire dormant heroes. There is always a balance. Always.

If you achieve a success not achieved by anyone else and not possible to achieve by anyone else then you are the hero of your generation.

If you are the hero of your family, there is very good chance that one day you will be the hero of the world.

If you have life, you have everything.

If you hear what I say and still wish yourself there, wish yourself a hero, wish yourself a hunter, then either I have failed in my telling or you are a fool.

If you honor the moments by not wasting them, the Time will honor you back by remembering you as the hero, for the rest of the time to come.

I had a chance. I knew I had no more than that. it's all a hero asks for.

I go where I'm needed.

I have yet to see a genius or a hero who, if stuck with a burning match, would feel less pain than his undistinguished average brother.

I had rescued myself entirely.

I have brought you a hero’s fate, and a hero’s fate is never happy. It is never anything but tragic.

I honor you for every time this year you: got back up vibrated higher shined your light and loved and elevated beyond —the call of duty.

I just wonder… Isn’t it better to start as a monster and become a hero? Isn’t that what creates belief? The idea that someone can change?

I like being underestimated.

I know who the real hero is, and it isn't me or brave Lanaya. It's an old man with a white beard and a walking stick and a heart so big it won't let him stop thinking he can change the world by writing down things in a book no one will ever read.

I'll show Dunky he's not the only one in the family who can rush foolishly into danger!

I’ll tell you what time it is. It is time to be a hero.

I miss the city of tomorrow—and the man of yesterday.

I made him the hero in my story and the center of my life.

I love writing and can't imagine not being able to do it. I want an easy life and if it had been difficult doing it I wouldn't be doing it. I do admire writers who do it even though it costs them.

I’m a threat to anything that hurts Wonderland, including indifference.

I mean it, it’s another gap in your education. Until you can learn to understand her, you’ll get nowhere as a detective. She’s everybody’s conscience, Bob—the universal maiden aunt, cousin or sister. Humanity’s backbone. Throughout history, she’s gone to the stake for you again and again; not with any sense of heroism, but as a matter of principle and because it would never occur to her to do anything else.

I’m not beautiful. My mother—” “I know. Your mother was a knockout, and you’re paper bag ugly... Sorry to upset all those cherished illusions of yours, but I don’t see it your way.” “That’s because you didn’t know her.” “Could your mother have led tiger back into its cage?” “Maybe not that, but she was very good with men. They’d do anything for her.” “This man will do anything for you.

I’m proud to be a writer. I’m doing the job all my heroes did.

I'm right and wrong, moral and immoral, good and bad, a hero and a villain, and I've been just as capable of truth as I have been lies.

My lady, When in difficulty, remember the words of our mutual friend Stephen Armstrong: "You can always swim out of quicksand as long as you don't panic." Or send for me, and I'll come throw you a rope. -W. R. Every time Phoebe had read those words- at least a dozen times since they'd left Eversby Priory- a giddy sensation rushed through her. It had hardly escaped her notice that West had marked sections of the book with x's, just as she had marked Henry's book so long ago. A sly bit of flirtation, those x's- she was welcome to interpret them as kisses, while he could still maintain deniability. Infuriating, complicated man.

[...] In a lot of ways, I guess Satan was the first superhero.” “Don’t you mean supervillain?” “Nah. Hero, for sure. Think about it. In his first adventure, he took the form of a snake to free two prisoners being held naked in a Third World jungle prison by an all-powerful megalomaniac. At the same time, he broadened their diet and introduced them to their own sexuality. Sounds kind of like a cross between Animal Man and Dr. Phil to me.

I needed a Champion. So, I became one! Fulfill the requirements of your own requirements.

I need to give you one last bit of advice in the off chance this rather extraordinary and enviable situation in which you find yourself is actually true- that somehow you've fallen deep down into a Cordova story. I stared back at him. Be the good guy, he said. How do I know I'm the good guy? He pointed at me, nodding. A very wise question. You don't. Most bad guys think they're good. But there are a few signifiers. You'll be miserable. You'll be hated. You'll fumble around in the dark, alone and confused. You'll have little insight as to the true nature of things, not until the very last minute, and only if you have the stamina and the madness to go to the very, very end. But most importantly- and critically- you will act without regard for yourself. You'll be motivated by something that has nothing to do with the ego. You'll do it for justice. For grace. For love. Those large rather heroic qualities only the good have the strength to carry on their shoulders. And you'll listen.

I never encountered any crisis in life, because I solved my problems before they turned into crisis.

In the matter of spirit follow the Gods, in the matter of work follow the heroes.

In real life, the political and strategic games used by politicians and statesmen are in fact social games - requiring social intelligence as well as technical mastery of information. The skills of the orator, cultivated by ancient statesmen like Cicero and Demosthenes, or by modern statesmen like Benjamin Disraeli and Abraham Lincoln, require emotional maturity and the talent of seeing events through the eyes of others. A great statesman sets aside his own egoism. He takes a more objective view. In this way, he avoids the errors that attend a purely egoistic standpoint. The explanation which Kierkegaard offered, which is none too flattering, is that people no longer desire a great king, a heroic liberator or an authoritative religion. They don’t want strict rules or high standards. That is because they want an easy time of it. They want a soft existence which can only be guaranteed by eschewing the great and heroic, the true and the noble. This is the moral perspective of high politics and of true statesmanship. Only those who reach this fifth stage can transform world calamity into world regeneration.

Interestingly enough, whenever I cite examples from superhero comic books in a lecture, my students never wonder when they will use this information in their "real life". Apparently they all have plans, post-graduation, that involve protecting the City from all threat while wearing spandex. As a law-abiding citizen, this notion fills me with a great sense of security, knowing as I do how many of my scientist colleagues could charitably be termed "mad".

In the men I love heroes, in the work I love heroism

In the world of so-called villains, what we need is not another hero. What we need is to stop the influx of people who dress themselves as menaces and proceed to harm others.

In Greek tragedy, 'Destiny is Character' that means destiny drives or guides the hero. In Shakespearean tragedy, 'Character is Destiny' that means the hero creates his own destiny! But, real life is a mixture of both!

In wartime, everyone loves a soldier, and a wounded hero even more so.

Is it permissible even for a dying hero to think before he dies ow men will think of him hereafter. His fame lasts perhaps two thousand years. And what are two thousand years?

I recognized the handwriting, and my heart gave a skip; when I opened it I got a turn, for it began, 'To my beloved Hector,' and I thought, by God she's cheating on me, and has sent me the wrong letter by mistake. But in the second line was a reference to Achilles, and another to Ajax, so I understood she was just addressing me in terms which she accounted fitting for a martial paladin; she knew no better. It was a common custom at that time, in the more romantic females, to see their soldier husbands and sweethearts as Greek heroes, instead of the whore-mongering, drunken clowns most of them were. However, the Greek heroes were probably no better, so it was not far off the mark.

Is it like this everywhere you go?” Gary asked. “Pretty much.” Savannah shrugged calmly. “I don’t really mind. Peter always—” She broke off abruptly and brought the steaming cup to her mouth. Gregori could feel sorrow beating at her, a crushing stone weighing down her heart. His hand slipped down her arm to lace his fingers through hers. At once he poured warmth and comfort into her mind, the sensation of his arms around her body, holding her close. “Peter Sanders always took care of the details surrounding Savannah’s shows. He was very good at shielding her. He was murdered after her last show out in San Francisco.” He provided the information quietly to Gary. “I’m sorry,” Gary said instantly, meaning it. Her distress was evident in her large blue eyes. They shimmered with sorrow. Gregori brought Savannah’s hand to the warmth of his mouth, his breath heating the pulse beating in her wrist. The night is especially beautiful, mon petit amour. Your hero saved the girl, walks among the humans, and converses with a fool. That alone should bring a smile to your face. Do not weep for what we cannot change. We will make certain that this human with us comes to no harm. Are you my hero, then? There were tears in her voice, in her mind, like an iridescent prism. She needed him, his comfort, his support under her terrible weight of guilt and love and loss. Always, for all eternity, he answered instantly, without hesitation, his eyes hot mercury. He tipped her chin up so that she met the brilliance of his silver gaze. Always, mon amour.

It is better to die for your virtues than to live for your vices.

It didn’t matter that she didn’t live here, that a relationship was out of the question. It was probably because a relationship wouldn’t happen that he could let himself get this close. He wrapped his arms tighter around her as though this were all that existed in the world. Just the two of them, the mountain, the clean winter air. The taste of her tongue on his lips.

{The final resolutions at Robert Ingersoll's funeral, quoted here} Whereas, in the order of nature -- that nature which moves with unerring certainty in obedience to fixed laws -- Robert G. Ingersoll has gone to that repose which we call death. We, his old friends and fellow-citizens, who have shared his friendship in the past, hereby manifest the respect due his memory. At a time when everything impelled him to conceal his opinions or to withhold their expression, when the highest honors of the state were his if he would but avoid discussion of the questions that relate to futurity, he avowed his belief; he did not bow his knee to superstition nor countenance a creed which his intellect dissented. Casting aside all the things for which men most sigh -- political honor, the power to direct the futures of the state, riches and emoluments, the association of the worldly and the well- to-do -- he stood forth and expressed his honest doubts, and he welcomed the ostracism that came with it, as a crown of glory, no less than did the martyrs of old. Even this self-sacrifice has been accounted shame to him, saying that he was urged thereto by a desire for financial gain, when at the time he made his stand there was before him only the prospect of loss and the scorn of the public. We, therefore, who know what a struggle it was to cut loose from his old associations, and what it meant to him at that time, rejoice in his triumph and in the plaudits that came to him from thus boldly avowing his opinions, and we desire to record the fact that we feel that he was greater than a saint, greater than a mere hero -- he was a thoroughly honest man. He was a believer, not in the narrow creed of a past barbarous age, but a true believer in all that men ought to hold sacred, the sanctity of the home, the purity of friendship, and the honesty of the individual. He was not afraid to advocate the fact that eternal truth was eternal justice; he was not afraid of the truth, nor to avow that he owed allegiance to it first of all, and he was willing to suffer shame and condemnation for its sake. The laws of the universe were his bible; to do good, his religion, and he was true to his creed. We therefore commend his life, for he was the apostle of the fireside, the evangel of justice and love and charity and happiness. We who knew him when he first began his struggle, his old neighbors and friends, rejoice at the testimony he has left us, and we commend his life and efforts as worthy of emulation.

It is better to live just one day as a hero than to squander an entire lifetime as a coward.

It is good to be willing to stand as a hero, but you must also be willing to fall as a hero

It is an extraordinary thing to meet your heroes and find them to be everything you hoped they would be.

I told you it would be difficult! If I were you I would just not bother trying these tasks! They are great challenges, clearly too great for you.” said Guya, but there was a certain sparkle in his eye as he said it. “I shall complete your tasks, ” said Yoshiko firmly. “And I’ll be back sooner than you think!” With that he spread his wings to head for Fire School. “Oh and one more thing Guya” Yoshiko added. Perhaps when I return you will be so kind as to stop calling me a little dragon!” As Yoshiko flew off Guya chuckled to himself.