I'm not against (bull fighting). Some nations like to see blood, and some like to see their victims suffer from speculation... They kill the bull very quick. Wall Street lets you live and suffer.
Bull riding is probably the most dangerous sport in the world in terms of head injuries.
Bullfight critics row on row Fill the enormous Plaza de toros But only one is there who knows And he is the one who fights the bull.
So the lion is the law-breaker. Just as to the primitive man the lion is the lawbreaker, the great nuisance, dangerous to human beings and to animals, that breaks into the Kraal at night and fetches the bull out of the herd: he is the destructive instinct.
There's a tremendous popular fallacy which holds that significant research can be carried out by trying things. Actually it is easy to show that in general no significant problem can be solved empirically, except for accidents so rare as to be statistically unimportant. One of my jests is to say that we work empirically -- we use bull's eye empiricism. We try everything, but we try the right thing first!
Whenever the investor sold out in an upswing as soon as the top level of the previous well-recognized bull market was reached, he had a chance in the next bear market to buy back at one third (or better) below his selling price.
Cheer the bull, or cheer the bear; cheer both, and you will be trampled and eaten.
It's a bunch of bull! If God, or nature, or whatever you want to call it didn't want you to mix carbohydrates, starches and fats, you'd never have a grain, you'd never have a vegetable or a fruit, would you? What's in a grain? It's got carbohydrates, starches, fats, sugar. It's got everything in it. Why does nature do that? One guy says don't mix carbohydrates, and the other guy says don't mix protein with it; it's all a bunch of lard, something to sell a book. And the poor public is so confused, they don't know what to do.
Herodotus is not more indisputably the father of history than is Sir Boyle Roche the father of Bulls. No doubt there were makers of bulls before his day, even as brave men lived before Agamemnon; but they are not remembered, and if their bulls have survived them they are credited to Sir Boyle by a posterity generously forgiving and forgetful of his famous indictment.
I have spent--or wasted--my life around motor racing: driving, promoting, and writing about what Ernest Hemingway once linked with mountain climbing and bull fighting as the only true sports. The rest, he sniffed, are merely games.
I have painted and drawn bulls for some time because of their density and all the symbolism they carry.
On Christmas Day I'll head off for a couple of laps around the Serpentine, or a trek around the whole of Hyde Park. Or I'll walk right across town, with Curtis, my son Jamie's bull mastiff.
During the night, while Bull and Lucy slept, Edward, with ever-open eyes, stared up at the constellations. He said their names, and then he said the names of the people who loved him. He started with Abilene, and then went on to Nellie and Lawrence and from there to Bull and Lucy, and then he ended again with Abilene: Abilene, Nellie, Lawrence, Bull, Lucy, Abilene. See? Edward told Pellegrina. I am not like the princess. I know about love.
...men in fear and hunger destroy their stomachs in the fight to secure certain food, where men hungering for love destroy everything lovable about them.
Never in his life had Edward been cradled like a baby. Abilene had not done it. Nor had Nellie. And most certainly, Bull had not. It was a singular sensation to be held so gently and yet so fiercely, to be stared down at with so much love. Edward felt the whole of his china body flood with warmth. (page 128)
The best part of my life is gone, and what remains is whizzing past so quickly I feel like I'm Krazy-Glue'ed onto a mechanical bull of a time machine.
Over the years I’ve collected a thousand memories of you, every glimpse, every word you’ve ever said to me. All those visits to your family’s home, those dinners and holidays—I could hardly wait to walk through the front door and see you.” The corners of his mouth quirked with reminiscent amusement. “You, in the middle of that brash, bull-headed lot…I love watching you deal with your family. You’ve always been everything I thought a woman should be. And I have wanted you every second of my life since we first met.
Remember when you fell out of that tree on the farm when you were ten, and broke your arm? Remember how he made them let him ride with you in the ambulance on the way to the hospital? He kicked and yelled till they gave in.” “You laughed,” said Clary, remembering, “and my mom hit you in the shoulder.” “It was hard not to laugh. Determination like that in a 10-year-old is something to see. He was like a pit bull.” “If pit bulls wore glasses and were allergic to ragweed.” -Luke and Clary talking about Simon, pg.211-
We fought a military war; our opponents fought a political one. We sought physical attrition; our opponents aimed for our psychological exhaustion. In the process we lost sight of one of the cardinal maxims of guerrilla war: the guerrilla wins if he does not lose. The conventional army loses if it does not win. The North Vietnamese used their armed forces the way a bull-fighter uses his cape to keep us lunging in areas of marginal political importance.
He does things I have never seen from any other player and it really is marvellous to watch. It takes a great player to grab the bull by the horns and make things happen, but he has done it repeatedly. He has been even better than people here thought he would be and that's saying something.
To me heaven would be a big bull ring with me holding two barrera seats and a trout stream outside that no one else was allowed to fish in and two lovely houses in the town; one where I would have my wife and children and be monogamous and love them truly and well and the other where I would have my nine beautiful mistresses on nine different floors.
Auto racing, bull fighting, and mountain climbing are the only real sports... all the others are games.
Red Bull is committed to providing not only quality domestic soccer, but also quality international soccer. You can't get much better than Barcelona. Our entire organization is excited about the opportunity to play one of the premier teams in the world.
In southern Spain, they made me eat a bull's testicles. They were really garlicky, which I don't like. I prefer to take a bull by the horns, not by, um...
This business can be very frustrating but there is success story after success story of people who take the bull by the horns. Actors who are frustrated ... [should] do your own project. Find a writer, shoot a movie. It can be done.
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