I'll teach you how to defend yourself, how to maim a man. We can use Po as a model.' 'Wonderful,' Po said. 'It's quite boring really, the way you beat me to death with your hands and feet, Katsa. It'll be refreshing to have you come at me with a knife.
Everything that's happened has brought me here, to this place, with this knife in my hand, and something worth saving.
We live by faith; but Faith is not the slave Of text and legend. Reason's voice and God's, Nature's and Duty's, never are at odds. What asks our Father of His children, save Justice and mercy and humility, A reasonable service of good deeds, Pure living, tenderness to human needs, Reverence and trust, and prayer for light to see The Master's footprints in our daily ways? No knotted scourge nor sacrificial knife, But the calm beauty of an ordered life Whose very breathing is unworded praise! - A life that stands as all true lives have stood Firm-rooted in the faith that God is Good.
Do not imagine that you can escape judgment if you rob people with a false prospectus rather than with a knife.
A knife can be a symbol, but it also better be able to cut string. And if it represent cutting free, cutting loose, in the story’s beginning, it better not be used to prop up a bookcase and then forgotten later on.
Violence of the tongue is very real- sharper than any knife.
I'm really great with weapons: I did a lot of bo and staff training for 'Immortals.' I love knives. I'm a pretty good shot. But I love hand-to-hand combat.
Medievalism, with its saints and martyrs, its love of self-torture, its wild passion for wounding itself, its gashing with knives, and its whipping with rods - Medievalism is real Christianity, and the medieval Christ is the real Christ.
He told me once to be brave, and though I have stood still while knives spun toward my face and jumped off a roof, I never thought I would need bravery in the small moments of my life. I do.
Well,” Tessa said, sighting along the line of the knife, “you behave as if you dislike me. In fact, you behave as if you dislike us all.” “I don’t,” Gabriel said. “I just dislike him.” He pointed at Will. “Dear me,” said Will, and he took another bite of his apple. “Is it because I’m better-looking than you?
Making war or rebellion is messy, like eating soup off a knife.
Life is often like that, the best balancing on a knife edge with the worst.
The lamb misused breeds public strife And yet forgives the butcher's knife.
California can and does furnish the best bad things that are obtainable in America.
Chip the glasses and crack the plates! / Blunt the knives and bend the forks! / That's what Bilbo Baggins hates.
Music, the knife without a hilt.
Enemies will kill you with a knife in the back. Friends will kill you with kindness. Either way you're dead.
I am not anti-gun. I'm pro-knife. Consider the merits of the knife. In the first place, you have to catch up with someone in order to stab him. A general substitution of knives for guns would promote physical fitness. We'd turn into a whole nation of great runners. Plus, knives don't ricochet. And people are seldom killed while cleaning their knives.
Talent is a dreadfully cheap commodity, cheaper than table salt. What separates the talented individual from the successful one is a lot of hard work and study; a constant process of honing. Talent is a dull knife that will cut nothing unless it is wielded with great force.
Pity is like a knife, sometimes, and it may pierce one who employs it more shrewdly than the victim it would save.
I might look as average as the next person but I had a few secrets up my sleeves. And lots of knives of course.
I noticed the different kids were always put down by other people and it would cause them to become almost violent with themselves. It's not really necessary; there's a way to find strength in yourself, and for me it was writing. That was sort of my release and my escape, so the term 'Knives and Pens' to me was like a choice. You can either create, or become violent, and maybe go down a dark road.
It’s like the grief has been covered over with some kind of blanket. It’s still there, but the sharpest edges are .. muffled, sort of. Then, ever now and then, I lift the corner of the blanket just to check, and .. whoa! Like a knife! I’m not sure that will ever change.
I am a cutter, you see. Also a snipper, a slicer, a carver, a jabber. I am a very special case. I have a purpose. My skin, you see, screams. It's covered with words - cook, cupcake, kitty, curls - as if a knife-wielding first-grader learned to write on my flesh. I sometimes, but only sometimes, laugh. Getting out of the bath and seeing, out of the corner of my eye, down the side of a leg: baby-doll. Pulling on a sweater, and in a flash of my wrist: harmful. Why these words?
Love is, that you are the knife which I plunge into myself.
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