Asked To Get Knocked Quotes & Sayings

The next day, as they walked, a stranger rode up, matching the Georgia-man's pace. "Niggers for sale?" He wanted to buy two women. The two men negotiated, argued, and insulted each other a little. The new man stared at the women and told them what he thought he'd do with them. The coffle kept moving. The white men rode along, bargaining. Maybe the deal could be sweetened, allowed the Georgia-man, if the South Carolinian paid to have the chains knocked off the men. One thousand dollars for the two, plus blacksmith fees. They stopped at a forge, and they kept arguing. The new man stated for everyone's benefit that he had worked African men to death in iron collars. The blacksmith came out, and he asked what "the two gentlemen were making such a frolick about," Ball later said. Frolicking: Down there, Ball realized, the Carolinians' play, the time when they were most fully themselves, was evidently when they were arguing, negotiating, dealing, and intimidating the enslaved. — Edward E. Baptist

Fitz's door was closed, so she knocked before going in.
"I told you, Mr. Snuggles's visiting hours are over," he called through the door.
"What about your visiting hours?" she asked.
"Oh! I thought you were Keefe."
Sophie opened the door. "I get that a lot. — Shannon Messenger

I don't want any money."
I put the wallet away.
She said: "What are you going to do about last night?"
"What should I do?"
"Kill that son of a bitch."
"And fry?"
"You're too smart to fry."
"Maybe," I said. "But, lady, I've been drawing the line at murder lately."
She lay against the pillow, watching me. Her skin was dead white and it made the black eyes look big. She wasn't young, but she was still good-looking. Her shoulders were round and firm. As far as I could tell she was naked under the sheet. I sat down on a rocking-chair. It creaked under my weight.
"But you want to get him, don't you?" she asked.
"I wouldn't mind."
"Neither would I," she said.
"He's pretty tough for a gal to tackle."
"He knocked out my teeth."
The way she said it, it sounded like a good reason for bumping off a man. Maybe it was, at that. A girl likes to hold on to her teeth. — Jonathan Latimer

Matt? Why did you really call me?" "Peyton asked the same question." "What did you tell her?" "I told her there was a special bonding moment when I groped you and you knocked me out ... " She laughed almost uncontrollably for a moment. "Really," he said. "It's because you felt like a friend. Strange as it might feel to you, I think we somehow became friends. I hope you're okay with that." She smiled. "Everyone can use a friend. — Robyn Carr

She who ever had remained in the depth of my being, in the twilight of gleams and of glimpses; she who never opened her veils in the morning light, will be my last gift to thee, my God, folded in my final song.

Words have wooed yet failed to win her; persuasion has stretched to her its eager arms in vain.

I have roamed from country to country keeping her in the core of my heart, and around her have risen and fallen the growth and decay of my life.

Over my thoughts and actions, my slumbers and dreams, she reigned yet dwelled alone and apart.

many a man knocked at my door and asked for her and turned away in despair.

There was none in the world who ever saw her face to face, and she remained in her loneliness waiting for thy recognition — Rabindranath Tagore

When a part of our nation gets knocked down, we come together to help pick it up again. No questions asked. That's the American way, and I would expect every single member of Congress to support that sentiment with their words, their actions, and their votes. — Paul Tonko

He took a long draw then asked, "What'd I do?"
"You knew about the guy threatening my dad?"
He paused, shifted in his chair, so freaking busted, it wasn't funny. "They told you?"
"Why, no, Swopes, they didn't. Instead, they waited until the guy knocked the fuck out of my dad and readied him for spaceflight with duct tape then tried to kill me with a butcher's knife. — Darynda Jones

What the hel - "
"Finally! I can talk!" Janco said.
Ari turned. Janco held the Sandseed's scimitar in his hand. The man lay on the ground, unconscious.
"Care to explain?" Ari asked.
"Didn't you see my signals?"
"Yeah. But they didn't make sense. Five into one and it's an intrusion."
"It's an illusion! Five of them are an illusion."
"That's not the signal for illusion. This is." Ari demonstrated the proper signal.
"That's what I did."
"No, you didn't. You did a weird twisty thing with your pinky."
"I had a scimitar at my throat. I'd like to see you try signaling under those conditions."
Ari opened his mouth to retort, but thought better of it. They could argue for weeks and not resolve a thing. He changed tactics. "You did very well. You knocked him unconscious and stopped his magic."
As expected, Janco preened. — Maria V. Snyder

The good news is your head's still attached to your shoulders," Cole said. "And the bad news?" Tanner asked. "The hit doesn't appear to have knocked any sense into you. — Jill Shalvis

Sanchez got the phone call, listened carefully, glanced over at Spencer, in Whittaker's office, having his morning coffee. Hung up the phone, got up, went and knocked on the door, asked if he could see Spencer a moment, and lowering his voice said, "Carl downstairs just called me because someone wants to file a vagrancy report.
Spencer slapped him on the back. "Detective Sanchez, thank you for bringing the particulars of your job description to my attention. Well done. Go to it.
Sanchez hemmed and said, "The young woman says she is Lily Quinn. Specifically asked for me, Carl says.
Spencer didn't slap him on the back this time. He stared at Carl and then said, "All right smart-ass, go back to you desk.
"That's what I thought," said Sanchez. — Paullina Simons

Okay," I sighed, interrupting before a battle of wills erupted. "So we will have to scout the wall first. We can-Apollo!"
The god looked up. In his hands, the Newton balls knocked off of each other once more. "What?" he asked.
"What?" I shot him an annoyed look. "Seriously. Have you've never seen a Newton's Cradle before? Every time you move the first ball, it's going to move the rest of the balls."
"No." His gaze dipped to the cradle. "Gravity is cool."
"Oh my gods," I moaned, slumping in my seat. "My brain hurts."
Apollo let go of the silver ball once more, and then placed the cradle on the edge of Marcus' desk. — Jennifer L. Armentrout

Get him now?" Duncan asked. He looked at the sword in his hand. Unsure of what he should do, he tossed the weapon at the giant. The sword flipped through the air a couple of times and landed softly on the grass only a few feet away.
"That was the most pathetic thing I've ever seen," said Gustav.
Duncan stepped forward to retrieve his sword, tripped over his belt, hit his head on a rock, and knocked himself out cold.
"I spoke to soon," said Gustav. "That was the most pathetic thing I've ever seen. — Christopher Healy

So when people asked me why I was moving away from the city of my dreams, I asked them why I wouldn't. It's not about greener pastures. It's never been about that. All it's ever been about is exploring and falling and pulling myself back together. Every time I do, I get stronger. I get faster. I get smarter. I get sweeter, hungrier, and happier. Dreams are mobile, fate doesn't live in one city, and karma is your shadow. I was offered a career opportunity that knocked quietly. It wasn't a million dollar check on my doorstep, it was more like the passing words of a stranger at a bar that change your perspective of the world. Something clicked and I had to accept. — Kelton Wright

He looked down at her and rolled his eyes then looked over and saw me approaching with the chain. "What happened to her?" I asked peeking around him. "I knocked her out. I got tired of listening to her whimpering. I mean if you're a cold blooded killer, act like it." He — Yolanda Olson

A dying man asked a dying man for eternal life; a man without possessions asked a poor man for a Kingdom; a thief at the door of death asked to die like a thief and steal Paradise. One would have thought a saint would have been the first soul purchased over the counter of Calvary by the red coins of Redemption, but in the Divine plan it was a thief who was the escort of the King of kings into Paradise. If Our Lord had come merely as a teacher, the thief would never have asked for forgiveness. But since the thief's request touched the reason of His coming to earth, namely, to save souls, the thief heard the immediate answer:
'I promise thee, this day thou shalt be
With Me in Paradise'
(Luke 23:43)
It was the thief's last prayer, perhaps even his first. He knocked once, sought once, asked once, dared everything, and found everything. When even the disciples were doubting and only one was present at the Cross, the thief owned and acknowledged Him as Saviour. — Fulton J. Sheen

We knocked lightly on the door. A voice asked who we might be, for nobody will ever open in Italy until identity is declared. Security, even in the remotest villages, is at New York standards. — Tim Parks

Are you hurt?" Alex asked.

Chris felt his chest seize with panic. "No, are you?" he asked quickly.

"No," Alex replied. "My head hurts, but I'm guessing that's because I was knocked out."

"Yeah," Chris said, trying to ignore the pounding in his skull. "Mine too." He let out a frustrated breath. "Thanks a lot!"

There was a pause before Alex asked, "You're blaming me for this?"

"You distracted me," Chris accused. "If you hadn't been there, I would have sensed the attack."

"Yeah, sure," Alex said, sarcasm thick in his voice. "You would have sensed it. You have great intuition, after all."

"Shut up!" Chris barked. — S.F. Mazhar

We should take pictures!" Elise said.
"Anyone got a camera?" Celeste asked. "I;m a pro at this."
"Mason does!" Kross shouted. "Come here for a minute," she said to a maid, waving her over encouragingly.
"Hold on," I said, grabbing some paper. "Okay, okay. 'Your Highest of Highnesses, the ladies of the Elite require, immediately, the least fancy of your cameras for. . .'"
Kriss giggled, and Celeste shook her head.
"Oh! A study in feminine diplomacy," Elise added.
"Is that a real thing?" Kross asked.
Celeste tossed her hair. "Who cares?"
Maybe twenty minutes later, Maxon knocked on the door and pushed it open an inch. "Can I come in?"
Kross ran over. "No. We just want the camera." And she snatched it from his hand and closed the door in his face.
Celeste fell on the floor, laughing.
"What are you doing in there?" he called. But we were all too busy doubling over to answer. — Kiera Cass

I am not a foreigner, because we are all traveling, we are all full of the same questions, the same tiredness, the same fears, the same selfishness and the same generosity.
I am not a foreigner, because when I asked, I received.
When I knocked, the door opened.
When I looked, I found. — Paulo Coelho

By noon everyone had heard that I had spent the night with Marti in a hotel room and when the cops came by, with our mothers, I had asked for time to get dressed. It was also all over the school that I had deliberately provoked Gratz and lived to tell of it, and that Paul had knocked me flat. And on top of that, Spooky Darla had given me a thermonuclear kiss in public.
No getting away from it: I was now Public Madman Number One. — John Barnes

Amy rang the bell when morning to gather the servants for prayers. The cook's small boy, pointing to the bell, said, "It's a god."
'I looked at the thing, it had a scratched face on the handle, and the face, he declared, was Ram's. I think the young scamp meant nothing more serious than a bit of mischief, but I knocked the bell handle off and pushed it into a fire which was burning near. He could never say that again! They all looked on, servants and coolies, and nobody said a word. Would a god let me do that? I asked them, and walked off, caring the battery bell. — Elisabeth Elliot

I can't be in your place as I don't have a fat, knocked-up ass to sit on. Yeah, you asked me for a major, and if you want to come through on it, you'll sit down, shut up, and let me work. Bitch. — J.D. Robb

So are the stories true?" asked Hunter. "Depends," Becca hedged. "What have you heard?"
"That you knocked two seniors on their asses on the soccer field, then flipped off the coach."
"Absolutely true," said Becca, deadpan. — Brigid Kemmerer

Why did you do this?" He was shaking. "Just tell me why."
I tried to muster up some of the righteous indignation that I'd felt on Friday night as I said, "You knocked over my gravestone!" But even to my ears the words sounded tinny and pathetic.
Dan's face was pale. "It was just a gravestone, Chelsea. And it was a mistake. I told you that already, and I meant it. I've never lied to you. My God, can't you tell the difference between a gravestone and a person you love? Can't you tel which one matters?"
But if I had to point to the real problem in my life, it's that I've never known the difference between a gravestone and a person I love. I have never known which is which until it's too late.
"All's fair in love and war," I reminded him, aiming for Tawny's tone. But my voice came out sounding just like me.
"Oh, yeah? And which is this?" he asked. "Love or war? — Leila Sales

A man woke up at midnight and wanted to smoke. Therefore he looked for some fire, for which he went to a neighbor's house and knocked at the door. The neighbor opened the door and asked him what he wanted. The man said, I wish to smoke. Can you give me a little fire? The neighbor replied, O.M.G.! What the heck is wrong with you? You have taken so much trouble to come and wake us up at the middle of the night, while in your own hand you have a lantern! The God that human beings so keenly seek, lives within the human biology, yet they wander hitherto searching for it. — Abhijit Naskar

If the president of the college had asked me what I thought about Dewey McLean, I'd say he's a weak sister. I thought he'd been knocked out of the ball game and had just disappeared, because nobody invites him to conferences anymore. — Luis Walter Alvarez

Son, how violent is yer woman?" The older man asked sounding curious. Aiden leaned in and whispered. "She knocked me unconscious once with the back of my toilet." The older man's eyes widened. "Better get you some chocolate bars. You can throw those from a distance." Aiden nodded. — Anonymous

What's the biggest thing you've zapped with a fireball?' I asked.
'That would be a tiger,'said Nightingale.
'Well don't tell Greenpeace,' I said. 'They're an endagered species.'
'Not that sort of tiger,' said Nightingale. 'A Panzer-kampfwagen sechs Ausf E.'
I stared at him. 'You knocked out a Tiger tank with a fireball?'
'Actually I knocked out two,' said Nightingale. 'I have to admit that the first one took three shots, one to disable the tracks, one through the driver's eye slot and one down the commander's hatch - brewed up rather nicely. — Ben Aaronovitch

Back so soon?" he asked. "Too bad. I was just about to organize a search for your dead body. What happened when you knocked on the southerner magician's door to sacrifice yourself? Did they kick you out, thinking you too half-witted to waste their time on? — Maria V. Snyder

Dad, why did you marry a crazy woman?" I asked after the usual pleasantries. "I didn't know she was crazy before I married her. By the time I found out, she was already knocked up and it was too late. — L.D. Davis

How did you meet him?" I asked her.
She smiled. "Here, actually. During a dinner rush. He was sitting at the counter and Isabel knocked a cup of coffee in his lap."
"Ouch," I said.
"No kidding. She was so slammed she just kept moving, so I cleaned it up and made all the apologies. He said it was okay,, no problem, and I laughed and said pretty girls get away with anything." She looked down, twisting her ring a bit so the diamond sat in the centre of her finger, "And he smiled, and looked at Isabel, and said she wasn't his type."
There was a faint cheer from the stadium, and I saw a ball whiz over the far fence and out of sight.
"And so," she went on, "I said, "Oh really? What is your type, exactly?" and he looked up at me and said, "You. — Sarah Dessen

The Thirteenth Woman In a town of twelve women there was a thirteenth. No one admitted she lived there, no mail came for her, no one spoke of her, no one asked after her, no one sold bread to her, no one bought anything from her, no one returned her glance, no one knocked on her door; the rain did not fall on her, the sun never shone on her, the day never dawned on her, the night never fell for her; for her the weeks did not pass, the years did not roll by; her house was unnumbered, her garden untended, her path not trod upon, her bed not slept in, her food not eaten, her clothes not worn; and yet in spite of all this she continued to live in the town without resenting what it did to her. — Lydia Davis

He dropped my hand, and I knew that he was moments away from kicking the door down like a crazy, deranged sol, so I quickly raised my fist and knocked. They all turned to stare at me, looking like I'd just stolen their favourite toy and ripped its head off. "What?" I asked defensively. "Just trying to be polite." "We're here to kill her," Siret reminded me, his voice a frustrated groan. "Don't see why we can't kill her politely, — Jaymin Eve

two Florida Highway Patrol cars and a third, black car pulled up in front of the house, and several white men emerged, among them the deputies Campbell and Yates. "Where is the guy that was with you last night?" Yates asked Shepherd, and what began with that question led to the beatings he and Irvin endured on the deserted clay road outside of Groveland. "They must have beat us about a half hour," Shepherd told the lawyers, who were at once riveted and appalled by his testimony. After the beating, he and Irvin were shoved back into the patrol car. Irvin's shirt was drenched in blood, and when he reached his hand up to his head he felt "a big chunk knocked out of it." A patrolman told them to scoot up to the edge of the seat so their blood wouldn't drip onto the upholstery. — Gilbert King

He began to attack the bone with a regular knife and spoon. Until I nudged him with an elbow. "The marrow shovel." It was meant to reach down to the bottom of a bone and lift the marrow out. He reached for the utensil. "That's right. I always forget!" He wouldn't if Aunt had been his teacher. "Why do you think it is that we can't just use a knife?" I smothered a laugh as I remembered that I had asked Aunt that very same thing. "I don't know." "Neither do I. This table is a pigeon trap. A dozen different forks and knives and spoons. Four different goblets. All of them just waiting to be knocked over or misapplied and mishandled. It's a wonder anyone is ever tempted to eat!" "You're doing quite well." "Franklin's much better at all of this than I am." "But you're much better at conversing." "And making you laugh? Am I better at that?" I smiled. "Yes. I would say so." "Good. Because that, at least, is something worthwhile. — Siri Mitchell

I jumped up from the bed and paced the small space in front of Romeo. He was absolutely nuts.
"Why the hell would you do that?" I asked.
Then I stubbed my toe on the edge of my desk.
"Ow!" I hissed and doubled over while bouncing around on one foot.
"You're like a one-woman show," Romeo remarked from behind me. His voice was clearly amused.
"I need my glasses," I muttered, hopping around and reaching for them somewhere near my bed. I knocked something over and it fell to the floor.
"Whoa there, graceful," Romeo said and scooped me up in his arms.
I let out a little squeak in surprise. "Put me down."
"No," he said mildly. "You are a danger to yourself."
I made a hmph sound and he snickered.
- Rimmel & Romeo — Cambria Hebert

When I entered graduate school I had carried out the instructions given to me by my father and had knocked on both Murray Gell-Mann's and Feynman's doors and asked them what they were currently doing. Murray wrote down the partition function for the three-dimensional Ising model and said it would be nice if I could solve it (at least that is how I remember the conversation). Feynman's answer was 'nothing'. — Kenneth G. Wilson

Yesterday i carved your name into the surface of an ice cube
then held it against my chest til it melted into my aching pores
today i cried so hard the neighbors knocked on my door
and asked if I wanted to borrow some sugar. — Andrea Gibson