Best 20 quotes in «punch quotes» category

How ill-inspired we are when Life, brawling in its crude matter-of-fact way Decks us with the cold fist of reality

Fear punches holes in your eyes so that you don't see the future clearly. Faith enlarges your vision to behold your destiny.

Frankly, if her face wasn't so cute, I would most certainly have been punching it.

He sure as hell hadn’t expected to walk into the middle of a standoff between a big bruiser and a short redhead who prepared to slurp the guy’s spine through a straw. And when she’d punched the big bruiser square in the jaw? Well, he just might’ve fallen in love.

I accidentally punched myself in the face while trying to pull my comforter up last night. If that doesn't accurately sum up my day, I don't know what does." - Apple to Ridley

A knock on the door you hear, a knock on your head you don't.

Any self-defense situation has the potential to quickly become A 'life and death' situation, therefore your practice of martial arts should be undertaken, as if your very life depends on it . . .

It was as if my sould had left my body, floated up to the ceiling, and was watching me destroy my own career with one deliberately assaultive punch. (Dark City Lights)

(A revolver is) just a tool, really, like stapler. A stapler that punch through a person. Pin them. Drive blunt metal through flesh and bone.

See!” Dad yelled. “Boys don’t stay with whores, Bianca. They leave them. And I’m not going to let you turn into a whore. Not my daughter. This is for your own good.” I looked up as he reached a hand down to grab my arm. I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting to feel his fingers clamp around my forearm. But they never did. I heard a loud thud, and Dad grunted in pain. My eyes flew open. Wesley moved away from Dad, who was massaging his jaw with a shocked look on his face. “Why you little shithead!” “Are you all right?” Wesley asked, kneeling in front of me. “Did you just punch my dad?” I couldn’t help but wonder if I was delirious. Had all of this really just happened? Totally bizarre. “Yes,” Wesley admitted. “How dare you touch me!” Dad screamed, but he was having trouble balancing enough to approach us again. “How dare you fuck my daughter, then hit me, you son of a bitch!” I’d never heard my father swear like that before. “Come on,” Wesley said, helping me to my feet. “Let’s get out of here. You’re coming with me.” He wrapped an arm around me, pulling me close against his warm body, and ushered me out the open door.

There wasn't an asteroid big enough to punch. Not this time. Not even the moon.

In the silence, Hallelujah realizes that Jonah hasn’t said a word since confirming that Luke kicked him and Brad out of their hotel room. He has his eyes closed, but he’s definitely not sleeping. His mouth is tight. He’s breathing deeply too, but it’s on purpose. And when he opens his eyes to see Hallelujah looking at him, he gets up abruptly. He adds more wood to their fire. He paces a circle around their camp. Then he says, in that low, dangerous voice Hallelujah heard for the first time at the party three nights ago, “I’m gonna kill him.” He circles the campfire again. A part of Hallelujah feels a little thrill at Jonah’s anger. That he’s this worked up on her behalf. The other part of her—a bigger part—doesn’t like seeing him like this. She says, not because she believes it but because she wants to calm him down, “It’s okay.” “It’s not okay,” Jonah says, but he stops pacing. He looks at her, and then at his fists. “Right. I won’t kill him. But it would feel really good to punch him in the face.” And then it’s like the anger drains out of him. He shakes his head. He pops his knuckles, slowly, one by one.

It seems to happen sudden—a fighter gets good. He gets easy and graceful. He learns how to save himself—no energy wasted... he slips and slides— he travels with the punch. . . . Oh, sure, I like the way you're shaping up.

Manny has swung with many men, but many men never seen Manny's blissful swing.

Morgan said that his mother said that Miss Kildaire is sitting on a shelf." Zach had to think about that one for a few seconds. "He said she's on the shelf?" "Uh-huh." An emphatic nod. "I don't know why Miss Kildaire would sit on a shelf, but that's what Morgan said." "I'm guessing there's more." "And then Morgan said that his mother said that Miss Kildaire was too fat to get a man." What a load of horseshit, Zach thought. Morgan's mother was probably some shriveled-up jealous twit. "I see." "And then Morgan said she was a cripple." Zach had a sudden urge to punch out the little rat himself.

Scott still stares at Sid, then turns to Alice and hands her the Scotch. “We’re going to go see Joanie today,” he says. Alice grins. “And Chachi?” she asks. Sid bursts out laughing and Scott turns back to him, then places a hand on his shoulder, which makes me fear for his life. “You be quiet, son,” Scott says. “I could kill you with this hand. This hand has been places.” I shake my head and look at both Sid and Alex. Scott lifts his hand off Sid’s shoulder and turns again to his wife. “No, Alice. Our Joanie. Our daughter. We’re going to give her anything she wants.” He glares at me. “Think about what she would want, Alice. We’re going to get it for her and bring it to her. Bring it right to her bed.” “Joanie and Chachi,” Alice chants. “Joanie and Chachi!” “Shut up, Alice!” Scott yells. Alice looks at Scott as though he just said “Cheese.” She clasps her hands together and smiles, staying in the pose for a few seconds. He looks at her face and squints. “Sorry, old gal,” he says. “You go ahead and say whatever you want.” “It was funny,” Sid says. “All I was doing was laughing. She has a good sense of humor. That’s all. Maybe she knows she’s being funny. I think she does.” “I’m going to hit you,” Scott says. His arms hang alongside him, the muscles flexed, veins big like milk-shake straws. I know he’s going to hit Sid because that’s what he does. I’ve seen him hit Barry. I, too, have been hit by Scott after I beat him and his buddies at a game of poker. His hands are in fists, and I can see his knobby old-man knuckles, the many liver spots almost joining to become one big discoloration, like a burn. Then he pops his fist up toward Sid, a movement like a snake rearing its head and lunging forth. I see Sid start to bring his arm up to block his face, but then he brings it down and clutches his thigh. It’s almost as if he decided not to protect himself. The end result is a punch in his right eye, a screaming older daughter, a frightened younger daughter, a father trying to calm many people at once, and a mother-in-law cheering wildly as though we have all done something truly amazing.

Some people have rubbed salt into some people’s wounds by punching out their false teeth.

Waking up to an alarm clock is getting punched in the face by time.

Whenever you entertain the Bunch, Always plan to have a punch.

Women are heavyweight boxers; only, they punch with words, not fists.