Best 134 quotes in «pirates quotes» category

Plans make dreams reality.

Remember we are Pirates. We never compromise. When there is no way, there is trust and persistence.

Ricordo poco di quella notte.

Save yourselves!” Percy warned. “It is too late for us!” Then he gasped and pointed to the spot where Frank was hiding. “Oh, no! Frank is turning into a crazy dolphin!” Nothing happened. “I said,” Percy repeated, “Frank is turning into a crazy dolphin!” Frank stumbled out of nowhere, making a big show of grabbing his throat. “Oh, no,” he said, like he was reading from a teleprompter. “I am turning into a crazy dolphin.” He began to change, his nose elongating into a snout, his skin becoming sleek and gray. He fell to the deck as a dolphin, his tail thumping against the boards. The pirate crew disbanded in terror.

She blinked at him, mouth open. "Do you really think it's wise to insult a woman who's holdin' a needle this far away? - she held her fingers an inch apart - "From your Grand Master of Ceremonies?

Saturday, September 17, 2005: Today in New Orleans, a traffic light worked. Someone watered flowers. And anyone with the means to get online could have heard Dr. Joy’s voice wafting in the dry wind, a sound of grace, comfort and familiarity here in the saddest and loneliest place in the world.” Chris Rose, The Times-Picayune

She smiled, and his dead heart warmed. One smile would never be enough.

Some days, the sheer amount of enemies we attracted made me question if maybe our crew was a little too trigger happy. That maybe we’d pissed in too many pots without thinking of the consequences. But then I remembered most folks couldn’t hold to a basic code of honor if it killed them. And kill them we did. Repeatedly.

Sono stato in posti caldi come la pece, dove i compagni mi stramazzavano intorno per la febbre gialla e il terremoto faceva sollevare la maledetta terraferma, che sembrava il mare: che ne sa il dottore di paesi così? E ho vissuto di rum, ti dico. È stato per me cibo e bevanda, pane, moglie e marito; e se adesso non posso avere il mio rum sono come un povero relitto arenato sottovento e il mio sangue ricadrà su di te, Jim, e su quello zuccone del dottore.

Tell me, Peppone, what other talents do you have besides erasing undesirables?” “I enjoy a fair bit of sneaking, sir. I also enjoy pilfering and killing as a professional courtesy.” “What a delightfully horrid urchin you are.” “Thank you, sir.

The Captain’s boat inspections were always pretty slapdash, because they mainly just involved him looking at the ropes and planks and barnacles and then nodding to show that he approved of whatever they happened to be doing.

She rocked her hips into him and gasped. “Do you have a sleeping cabin on this boat?” His teeth brushed her ear. “Yes.” “Do you have protection?” Her question didn’t register through the haze of his hunger for her. “Cannons, a cutlass, and a few pistols.” She chuckled and kissed him again. “How about condoms?

She tasted like run, root beer, and something wild he couldn’t place, but it didn’t matter. He wanted more. Craved it.

Strong hands slipped over her shoulders as Alex joined us, standing so close, I could feel his body heat radiating up my back….He squeezed my shoulders a little hard for it to be a show of solidarity. I’d probably have bruises. He was marking his territory.

Suspicion infused Alex's voice. "Okay? That's it?" I looked back at him and smiled. "That's it. We disagree. It's done. We'll deal with whatever comes next." He stood up, brows lowered over squinty eyes. "Did Lafitte ply you with brandy, or have the body snatchers been here?

The Captain was wearing his best blousey shirt, his beard was gleaming in the early morning light and he’d polished all his gold teeth. As he strode manfully towards the shore, the only thing that could have make him look even more heroic that he already did would have been the theme to Flash Gordon playing in the background, but it was a hundred and seventy years too early for that.

The fictional exploits of buccaneering men had lost their magic for him. Besides, there were other pirates on view in Tilbury that spring. One, unredeemed by any amnesty, hung from the gibbet at Tilbury Point, tugged at by a brisk breeze off the river. His body had been bound in chains, daubed with tar and encased in a cage, denied Christian burial as a warning to the living of the hideousness of death. It did not have quite that effect on Nathan. "It's Easter," he said to Hardcastle. "A week since," said Hardcastle. "When they went to the tomb to rewrap Christ's body . . ." Harcastle threw Toby in the air and caught him repeatedly, making the child laugh and laugh. ". . . except that it had gone . . ." said Nathan. "Raised to glory," agreed Harcastle, rubbing noses with the baby. ". . . out into the garden." Suddenly it seemed to him that the tarry skull of the pirate on the gibbet might not be shouting a warning after all -- that his decaying corpse might no longer be suffering the torments of the gibbet as his executioners like to suggest with cage and chain and padlock. There were amnesties other than the King's. The man might simply be singing: singing and dancing in the bright, brittle Easter sunshine, held up in midair not by chains but by invisible hands or on invisible shoulders.

The fight wasn’t over,” I said through gritted teeth. “I’d have won it.” Probably. “Right,” he said. “And something just flew past your window. It was oinking.

The HISPANIOLA still lay where she had anchored; but, sure enough, there was the Jolly Roger--the black flag of piracy--flying from her peak.

Their relationship would continue to grow, to change. There would always be pain, and they would be tested... Their triad had the shakiest of foundations, based as it was on mistrust, jealousy, and deception. But ships didn't need pillars pounded into the earth; no, they needed strong, protective hulls that could carry them over the ever-changing waves of an uncaring sea. With trust, hope... love--all things they had built together--they could weather anything.

The most impressive naval career of all the female sailors is that of William Brown, a black woman who spent at least twelve years on British warships, much of this time in the extremely demanding role of captain of the foretop. A good description of her appeared in London’s Annual Register in September 1815: “She is a smart, well-formed figure, about five feet four inches in height, possessed of considerable strength and great activity; her features are rather handsome for a black, and she appears to be about twenty-six years of age.” The article also noted that “in her manner she exhibits all the traits of a British tar and takes her grog with her late messmates with the greatest gaiety.” Brown was a married woman and had joined the navy around 1804 following a quarrel with her husband. For several years she served on the Queen Charlotte, a three-decker with 104 guns and one of the largest ships in the Royal Navy. Brown must have had nerve, strength, and unusual ability to have been made captain of the foretop on such a ship….The captain of the foretop had to lead a team of seamen up the shrouds of the foremast, and then up the shrouds of the fore-topmast and out along the yards a hundred feet or more above the deck…. At some point in 1815, it was discovered that Brown was a woman and her story was published in the papers, but this does not seem to have affected her naval career….What is certain is that Brown returned to the Queen Charlotte and rejoined the crew.

The only woman who would wear a gown like this one, love, is one who knows the power she wields and isn’t afraid to use it.

Then, after he'd watched her walk out, a wave of melancholy swept over him and for the thirtieth time that day he regretted that he hadn't just become a pharmacist, or a charter captain, or something that made you feel more alive, like a pirate.

Then, after picking up his papers, Pierre began: “A beautiful woman can be the downfall of a gentleman . . . but the uplift of a beggar!

The pirates would kiss Hayden, and sometimes they would cut off a hank of hair - 'as a reminder of yer kisses, me lad' - and one of them even cut off a piece of his earlobe. This particular pirate was Bill McGregor, and he was the one Hayden feared the most. Bill McGregor was the worst of them - and at night when everyone else was asleep, Bill McGregor would come looking for Hayden, his step slow and hollow on the planks of the deck, his voice a deep whisper. Boy,' he would murmur. 'where are you, boy?' After Bill McGregor cut off the piece of Hayden's earlobe, he decided that he wanted more. Every time he caught Hayden, he would cut a small piece off of him. The skin of an elbow, the tip of a finger, a piece of his lip. He would grip the squirming Hayden and cut a piece off of him, and then Bill McGregor would eat the piece of flesh.

There are things that humans cannot stop a human's will, dream, and the change of an era. As long a humans long for freedom he surely cannot stop these things

There is a Pirate in each of us"!

Then I shall tell you the truthful answers to the questions you asked, about my own intentions and motivations. They are not so simple."... He cocked an eyebrow and his cobalt eyes took on a playful sparkle. "If I were to avow that you are my immortal life's great passion, that I would give up immortality itself to be at your side and in your bed, you would not believe me, n'est-ce pas?

There was a bounty on my head, it was four days before Christmas, and I was having turtle gumbo with a merman, an undead pirate king, two loups-garou, and my best friend - a human pregnant with the half-elven child who had unknowingly helped set this whole debacle in motion. Plus a newbie vampire who didn't like the smell of food anymore.

The first military-trained gang member was Samuel Mason, leader of the Mason gang of river pirates operating along the Ohio River from the 1790s.

The rest of the evening passed agreeably: the crew had their games on the main deck, resigning themselves to Sirs and dice now that dancing was out, those who would go ashore to enjoy the dining halls and tea houses went after their matches were lost, and those who remained either took themselves off to an early rest or remained with the musicians, to sing out the remainder of the evening by way of a few round songs, calling out verses in melodic dissonance, singing the history of Good Marrie the Whore and though there were “Ten hands in her purse, there was still room for one more!”,

The Soviets were worried that the Americans would attack their "sparkling new Mir space station, ... in a space shuttle, throw out grappling hooks, forcibly board the peaceful habitat and claim it as captured territory. To the hard-core Soviet mind-set, the American government was an unstable combination of cowboys and gangsters, unpredictable and capable of any insane action. The cosmonauts would have to be armed against outrageous aggression.

This book is a work of fiction. Actually, it is a work of fiction within a fiction, as the main characters, though real persons in a fictional world, are being depicted in a book which other fictional characters in the same world are reading. Any reference to historical events-- rather, historical events non-Marridonian, and also non-Sesternese-- real people—rather, people in our realm, not the persons I was referring to in the previous line-- or real places—places that are not Marridon, Sesterna, and any place on the Two Continents-- are used fictitiously, because this is a work of fiction, and is a fiction within a fiction, as was previously stated. All names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination—referring to the ultimate author, not the fictitious author who has written the book within the book-- and any resemblance to actual events, locales, persons, living, dead, or otherwise, is entirely coincidental, but any resemblance to actual persons or places in the Two Continents is intentional. Absolutely no parts of this book, text or art, may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, by any means, whether electronically or mechanically, including photocopying— “By Myrellenos, are we here in the disclaimer again? This is the third time, I believe. And there are still no cups out. Where is the teapot?” “Here, boss.” “Oh, there is tea in this story? I might be more inclined to stay and hear this one. The others were dreadful slow. I must have some tea, if I am going to be made to sit and listen to a whole book. I am not Bartleby, who can sit at his desk and flump over his tomes until he moulders.” “He’s gonna hear you, boss.” “I should say not, Rannig. He is too busy with doing the edits. He found a mistake in one of the other books about us and demanded he perform the editing this time around. The author was very good to let him do as he likes. He is missing tea, however.” --audio recording, data retrieval, cloud storage, torrent, or streaming service. If you do decide to ignore this disclaimer and print or share this book illegally, I will have Bartleby come to your house with a sample from the Marridonian legal extracts, and he will read them to you until you promise never to do anything illegal again.

Three,' reckoned the captain, 'ourselves make seven, counting Hawkins, here. Now, about honest hands?' Most likely Trelawney's own men," said the doctor; 'those he had picked up for himself, before he lit on Silver.' Nay,' replied the squire. 'Hands was one of mine.' I did think I could have trusted Hands,' added the captain.

Three coins into the sea, Captain. One for the stars, one for the sky and one for the ocean" he says. "what need have they for money?" "It's not about need, it's about showing reverence

To live is to walk beside Death but never join hands. ~ Captain Buck "Slackeye" Roberts

(Topper) I’ll story ’em, Fin. I’ll story ’em clean.

Totally isolated from our own culture for long periods, we became vulnerable to forgotten times and tribes re-awakening within us. Our journeys, we found, were to take us simultaneously to some of the least-charted regions of the planet and to the least-charted regions of our own minds. What began for us as the effort to capture a purely objective record of what we saw gradually dissolved into a quest, an odyssey of self-discovery which actually took place amongst the last of the lands of real living kings and queens, dragons and pirates, cannibals and headhunters, mystics and magicians.

Try telling the truth for a whole week. And just see how much trouble you get in.

Walking the plank is a Victorian fiction, and I will not have it on my ship!

There’s several colonies setup on islands that have not been touched yet by Europeans and I’m sure some of them will be happy to take them in, also anyone that wants too can join my crew but I won’t force them to join, it will have to be their decision, either way it will be a though life for them but it will be a free life... their life and that’s all that really matters in the end... making your own decisions

We are all simply reacting, played by events that occurred centuries before.

Well, if pirates are bad, And vampires are worse, Then I pray that as long as I be That though I sing of Vampirates I never one shall see. Yea, if pirates are danger And vampires are death, I'll extend my prayer for thee- That thine eyes never see a Vampirate ...and they never lay a hand on thee

Well what would you expect?" she sputtered. "They can call themselves privateers, but we all know they're just pirates with papers.

Well, yeah, you listen to a talking snake and there's gonna be trouble.

What, everyone you know has been kidnapped by pirates and forced to chop octopus in a kitchen that smells like a whale's stomach?" "Quite a lot of them, yes," said Trudi, who appeared to be one of those people who'd heard of sarcasm but thought it was some sort of exotic fruit like a pineapple.

What I wouldn’t give for a little old smuggling job.

What kind of pirate would I be if I can’t handle a little danger?

Why Are Terrorists into Piracy? Well, they are movie buffs too!

Why Fight When You Can Negotiate?