Bob Roland: We've got to get rid of that man at once. Now I've got a plan. You say something to make him mad, and he'll strike you... and we'll force him to leave the country. Rufus T. Firefly: That's a swell plan... why couldn't you arrange for me t...
Capitão Nascimento: [shouting, rubbing the student's face in the blood-soaked body of a dead drug dealer] Put your face here. Put your face here. You see this, you see this hole right here? Who killed this guy here? WHO KILLED THIS GUY HERE? Student...
Rod Lane: [after tackling Glen on the lawn] It's Rod Lane, bringing Lantz down, just three yards from the goal line! What a brilliant tackle and the crowd goes wild! Tina Gray: What the hell are you doing here? Rod Lane: Came to make up. No big deal....
I know of no higher fortitude than stubborness in the face of overwhelming odds.
Learn to paint a tiger and you only paint his skin; learn to know a human being and you only know his face.
Did anyone care for poor Cinderella until her fairy godmother took her in hand? Did anyone look beyond the ragged clothes and sooty face? Did anyone see the unshed tears and the poor, tired face? Obviously not. Appearances matter.
Our stable and eternal verities are being challenged. There's a kind of postmodern breakdown in journalism. The breadth of information sources and the speed of transmission are growing; but the traditional gravity of news has eroded. -Jin Yongquan
You could slap his wrist for saying it, but then he said it with his face, and you could spank him for making faces, but then he said it with his eyes, and there were limits to correction—no way, in the end, to penetrate behind the blue irises and ...
But I talk to you as I talk to my own soul," he said, turning me to face him. He reached up and cupped my cheek, fingers light on my temple. "And, Sassenach," he whispered, "your face is my heart.
It is impossible to describe a landscape so validly as to exclude all other descriptions, for no one can see the landscape in all its aspects at the same time, and no single view can prevent the existence and validity of other equally possible views.
No matter how busy we may believe we are, we have the wonderful opportunity presently of investing time with loved ones. For those are the great investments we will be glad we made, when time begins to slow and the ability to tend turns tender.
We live on a world where if you run straight away, without turning, you return to your point of origin. So much energy can be saved and time, by dealing with the point, at its origin, that would make us run.
Sip tea and coffee with those who say you can, politely stuff with cookies any who say you cannot. Because the stuff they are feeding you, be it the latter, looks strangely a bit like the little chocolate chips.
Life is not easy. We all have problems-even tragedies-to deal with, and luck has nothing to do with it. Bad luck is only the superstitious excuse for those who don't have the wit to deal with the problems of life.
He stiffens against me, pain written all over the mess of a face. He grabs my face in his hands. Holds me. "It's not over. We're not through, Jacinda." His eyes blister, glitter darkly. "I'll find you. I will. We'll be together again.
Her face was plastered with layers of powder and looked like a face of stone. And with her noble profile, she seemed, on the triangular, moss-covered pedestal hidden by her cape, like a crumbling goddess in a park.
You still know that boy. He was very angry at fourteen, fifteen, in summer and winter, at home or in the world. So angry that his face contorted in photos. The camera was a question and his face did not know the answer.
Child abuse damages a person for life and that damage is in no way diminished by the ignorance of the perpetrator. It is only with the uncovering of the complete truth as it affects all those involved that a genuinely viable solution can be found to ...
Just as physical wounds heal at different rates in different people, so do emotional wounds. Everyone has different needs and speeds.
He was skinny with soft hair, and his thick, murky eyes watched as the stranger played one more song in the heavy room. From face to face, he looked on as the man played and the woman wept. The different notes handled her eyes. Such sadness.
Life didn’t go how I had planned, but I couldn’t have planned a better life. Somewhere in between the beginning and eternity, I fought the war that we all must fight–the journey that in taking, forces us to come face to face with our own realit...
