Best 111 quotes in «sword quotes» category

In tyranny, my sword belongs not in a scabbard.

I stood behind the man’s chair, my blade at his throat. “Why do you do it?” I asked, knowing he wouldn’t answer. “Kill people, and blow up buildings, and sell drugs?” It was what they all did. Committed crimes. That was why I killed them. “You’re a criminal, a terrorist, a danger. And I have been asked to take you out.” I told him. I was legend now, yet he asked the same question all the others did. “What is your name?” My sensitive ears tuned out the slit as my sword cut his neck. I walked around the chair to see his face. I watched as his eyes–slowly at first–changed from blue to milky white. His skin went pale. And as I heard him take his last breath, I ducked in so my lips hovered at his ear, and whispered, “My name, is Sharden.

It has the elegance of a sword The might of a shield, How you chose to fight or yield Its your to wield. Identify your mind. Poem: The Beautiful Mind in ‘Chameleon Lights

It was pretty late and the streets were quiet so she was almost sure no one had seen her drag the soul eater into the alley... where she cut his head off with a samurai sword. God, she loved her life.

I told you, I’m awesome at everything,” he teased, putting the PS3 controller on the floor between us. “That includes video games.” I watched as the character Wesley had been operating moved across the screen, doing some sort of odd victory dance. “Not fair,” I muttered. “Your sword was bigger than mine.” “My sword is bigger than everyone’s.

Its powers?' Dallben answered with a sad smile. 'My dear boy, this is a bit of metal hammered into a rather unattractive shape; it could better have been a pruning hook or a plow iron. Its powers? Like all weapons, only those held by him who wields it. What yours may be, I can in no wise say.

I've climbed up here holding the hilt of time's sword by driving it into my tender heart.

Man looks very coward and extremely primitive with an ostentatious big sword and he looks very brave and tremendously sophisticated with a humble olive branch!

I was not weak; I did not cry. But it hurt me, more in a kind of refreshing, thrilling way, than a kind of pain that would cripple me and send me away crying. My fingernails dug into the palms of my hands, and my teeth bit into my lips, my knees were locked, but I could not faint.

I will not crumble without a sword in hand.

Love is the only thing in this whole universe, that can make the roses grow out of the swords.

Man without a sword is still a warrior, but one with no shield is just a target.

Marilynn...passed out black cases to everyone. I opened mine to find an iPad inside. Several candidates whistled. Despite my agitated state, it impressed me too. Maybe wizard school wasn’t going to be as lame as I had thought. “All of your schedules and assignments will be done on these,” Marilynn explained. “The whole school is on these. We’ve had them for awhile now.

May I help you?” Keegan asked, placing his hand on the hilt of his sword. “You may or you may not, as it is your decision. However, I would like some information, unless you should not give it to me,” the elder stated quickly and in a kind voice.

Matt was almost completely naked. A tattered loincloth and an ugly chain with a yellow diamond were his only apparel.

—¡¿Me buscabais?! —Así es, Gryal Ibori. —¡Pues aquí me tenéis! —gritó furioso, con el alma ardiente y la voz quebrada. Estaba cansado de todo y de todos. Sólo quería ver a Lorette, reunirse con ella y estar a su lado. Y corrió hacia sus enemigos, como un león herido y rodeado, como un hombre que sólo tiembla por frío y sólo llora por amor. Su capa negra se deslizó en el viento, cual triste bandera, y Gryal cortó el aire con su espada ensangrentada.

Oh che sanguinosa e spaziosa porta Fa l'una e l'altra spada ovunque giugna, Nell'arme e nelle carni! E se la vita Non esce, sdegno tienla al petto unita.

My name is Arianna Morganna Brittany DuLac--you can imagine why I went by the name Ryan.

No doubt your sword is indeed a beautiful thing. It is a tribute to whoever forged it in bygone ages. There are very few such swords as this one left in the world, but remember, it is only a sword, Matthias! It contains no secret spell, nor holds within its blade any magical power. This sword is made for only one purpose, to kill. It will only be as good or evil as the one who wields it. I know that you intend to use it only for the good of your Abbey, Matthias; do so, but never allow yourself to be tempted into using it in a careless or idle way. It would inevitably cost you your life, or that of your dear ones. Martin the Warrior used the sword only for right and good. This is why it has become a symbol of power to Redwall. Knowledge is gained through wisdom, my friend. Use the sword wisely.

Not fair,” I muttered. “Your sword was bigger than mine.” “My sword is bigger than everyone’s.” I lobbed my controller at his head, but of course he ducked and made me miss. Damn it. “Perv.” “Oh, come on,” he laughed. “You walked right into that one, Duffy.” I scowled at him for a moment, but I could feel the aggravation slipping away. Finally, I just shook my head… and smiled. “Okay, you’re right. I did leave that one wide open. But you know, boys that talk big never are.” Wesley frowned. “We both know that isn’t true. I’ve proved it to you plenty of times.” He smirked, then leaned against me, letting his lips brush against my ear. “But I can prove it again if you want me to… and you know you want me to.” “I… I don’t think that’s necessary,” I managed. His lips were moving down my neck, sending an electric current up my spine. “Oh,” he growled playfully. “I do.” I laughed as he shoved me to the floor, one of his hands perfectly catching the space above my left hip where I was most ticklish. He’d discovered that spot a couple of weeks ago, and I was furious with myself for letting him use it against me. Now he could make me squirm and laugh uncontrollably whenever he wanted, and I could tell that he totally got off on it. Jerk. His fingers probed the sensitive spot over my hip as his mouth moved from my collarbone to my ear. I was laughing so hard I could barely breathe. Not fair. So not fair. I made a halfhearted attempt to kick him away, but he trapped my leg between his and proceeded to tickle me harder.

Now get going. You'll find a way of calm through." "And you, Mael?" "I'll drop in later. I've things for you to do, Withal. But for now," he faced inland, "I'm going to beat a god senseless.

Mightier than the sword, the pen may be; but the tongue is mightiest of all.

Nobody is masterless, even ronin enslaved by his sword.

Once metal hits metal and battle begins no one wishes they had practiced less!

Raising the sword aloft is sometimes the only way to make the other side stand down.

Pambana na Shetani kwa upanga wa imani ambao ni ukweli kwani ukweli ndiyo utakaokuweka huru.

Perrotte frowned. “I’d like to turn a plowshare into a sword ,” she said. “I’d cut our way out of those thorns, and then use it to run my enemies through—” She bit off her next words and swallowed them. Sand stared at her, aghast. She met his eyes, defiant. “What? You don’t like bloodthirstiness?” she asked. “Pardon? No. I’m horrified that you would dull a sword on that thorn brake. I could make you some pretty good hedge shears.

Only a fool would call a desert a lake, and expect it to change the amount of water.

Rough palms cradled my face while my fingers gripped the pillow on either side of his. Lips, teeth, tongue, mingled together. I ate him up and didn’t let go until I had to come up for air.

See now, for a good blade, one that will not betray the man in battle, rods of hard and soft iron must be heated and braided together. Then is the blade folded over and hammered flat again, and maybe yet again, many times for the finest blades... So the hard and soft iron are mingled without blending, before the blade is hammered up to its finished form and tempered, and ground to an edge that shall draw blood from the wind. So comes the pattern, like oil and water that mingle but do not mix. Yet it is the strength of the blade, for without the hard iron the blade would bend in battle, and without the soft iron it would break.

Some Christians pretend that Christianity was not established by the sword; but of what period of time do they speak? It was impossible that twelve men could begin with the sword: they had not the power; but no sooner were the professors of Christianity sufficiently powerful to employ the sword than they did so, and the stake and faggot too; and Mahomet could not do it sooner. By the same spirit that Peter cut off the ear of the high priest's servant (if the story be true) he would cut off his head, and the head of his master, had he been able. Besides this, Christianity grounds itself originally upon the [Hebrew] Bible, and the Bible was established altogether by the sword, and that in the worst use of it — not to terrify, but to extirpate. The Jews made no converts: they butchered all. The Bible is the sire of the [New] Testament, and both are called the word of God. The Christians read both books; the ministers preach from both books; and this thing called Christianity is made up of both. It is then false to say that Christianity was not established by the sword.

Serpent-Breath was famous...Wasp-Sting, short and lethal.

Some martial arts, or combat sports at least, offer a career path that includes fame and riches. An Olympic gold medal, perhaps. But that is not true of ours. I train martial arts because they can offer moments of utter transcendence. The ineffable made manifest. This is traditionally described as “beyond words” or “indescribable” but, as a martial artist and a writer, that would feel like a cop-out. I will take this feeling and wrestle it down onto the page, or at least give it my best shot. It is a moment when every atom in your body is exactly where it should be. Every step you have taken on life’s path makes sense, and is part of a coherent story. The pain of every mistake is made worthwhile by the lessons contained within. There is a feeling of physical power without limit; strength without stiffness; flow without randomness; precision without pedantry; focus without blinkers; breadth and depth; massive destructive capability, but utter gentleness; self-awareness without self-consciousness; force without fury; your body alive as it has never been, all fear and pain burned away in a moment of absolute clarity; certainty without dogma; and an overpowering love, even for your enemies, that enables you to destroy them without degrading them. For a religious person it is the breath of God within you; for an atheist it is a moment of attaining perfection as a human being.

The monster inside him was finally silent. The sword in his hand spoke a thousand stories, while hundreds of voices screamed feebly through the blood dripping from it. The blade of the sword shined like an evening sky and sang a tale of the darkest revenge.

Speaking a painful truth should be done only in love - like wielding a sword with no hilt - it should pain oneself in direct proportion to the amount of force exerted.

[The] Japanese were a people in a profound, inverse, reverse, or if I preferred it, even perverse sense, more in love with death than living.

Sword rang on sword, the metallic sounds echoing throughout the wide market place and filling the crannies of every dark alley. Strength waged against strength, as, indeed, rivals of evil have ever-battled the adversaries of truth. The face of one combatant appeared cool and certain, the other passionate in his resolve, intent upon seeing the battle through and winning the day with valor...

Talking big in dark corners seldom achieves anything other than getting you into trouble.

That thing was too big to be called a sword. Too big, too thick, too heavy, and too rough, it was more like a large hunk of iron.

The holy sword, the Holy Scripture.

The language of sword is less powerful than the language of word, but most of the people understand the language of sword with greater power than the language of word.

Then he took the sword in both hands and raised it—and Gawain’s posture took on an unmistakable grandeur.

The pen is mightier than the sword as long as it doesn't run out of ink.

Then, I feel it; it was a hot that was like a burning sword, fine, slicing my skin in pieces, and not even my jacket could protect me from the hot. Then it goes, as unexpected like it came, lifting dirt from the floor and a smell I remember, metal, and the only thing it could be: blood.

The pen is mightier than the sword, if you know where to poke it.

The Scripture is like a sharp sword.

There is special power in that sword,' Ewer went on, 'the gem in the guard of the Ares holds the blood of the Creature that has been slain by it.

There was a sound of steel meeting steel. Devin flung a desperate look over his shoulder, saw Hewet fending off two men behind him, and looked ahead in time to see ten men in light armor ride out of the trees up ahead and drive straight for him. He almost swallowed the flute. He threw an arm over his face, too shocked to be terrified, and waited to die.

There was something behind the softness that intertwined our fingers together—love? It felt different from two days ago. All I could think about was his smooth hand, wrapped in mine. It was more than affection—but I wasn’t sure how much more, or if that would ever change.

Those who cannot conquer must bend the knee. They must find strength, or serve those of us who have. You are my generals. I will send you out: my hunting dogs, my wolves with iron teeth. When a city closes its gates in fear, you will destroy it. When they make roads and walls, you will cut them, pull down the stones. When a man raises a sword or bow against your men, you will hang him from a tree. Keep Karakorum in your minds as you go. This white city is the heart of the nation, but you are the right arm, the burning brand. Find me new lands, gentlemen. Cut a new path. Let their women weep a sea of tears and I will drink it all.