Boot To The Head Quotes & Sayings

Richard rubbed his temples. He had a headache from lack of sleep. "Don't you understand? This isn't about conquering lands and taking things from others; this is about fighting oppression."
The general rested a boot on the gilded rung of a chair and hooked a thumb behind his wide belt. "I don't see much difference. From my experience, the Master Rahl always thinks he knows best, and always wants to rule the world. You are your father's son. War is war. Reasons make no difference to us; we fight because we are told to, same as those on the other side. Reasons mean little to a man swinging his sword, trying to keep his head. — Terry Goodkind

Good night," I whisper to the bow in my hand and feel it go still. I raise my left arm and twist my neck down to rip off the pill on my sleeve. Instead my teeth sink into flesh. I yank my head back in confusion to find myself looking into Peeta's eyes, only now they hold my gaze. Blood runs from the teeth marks on the hand he clamped over my nightlock. "Let me go!" I snarl at him, trying to wrest my arm from his grasp. "I can't," he says. As they pull me away from him, I feel the pocket ripped from my sleeve, see the deep violet pill fall to the ground, watch Cinna's last gift get crunched under a guard's boot. — Suzanne Collins

I don't believe in God, but I miss him.
— Julian Barnes

Knowing that you're crazy doesn't make the crazy things stop happening. — Mark Vonnegut

Ellie's head sinks into her hands, and she weeps for the unknown Boot, for Jennifer, for chances missed and a life wasted. She cries for herself, because nobody will ever love her like he loved Jennifer, and because she suspects that she is spoiling what might have been a perfectly good, if ordinary, life. She cries because she is drunk and in her flat and there are few advantages to living on your own except being able to sob uninhibitedly at will. — Jojo Moyes

You suck, surprising no one!!!! If bad was a boot, you'd fit it!!!! You're a stupid poo-poo head! I had sexual relations with your mother! Your mother was not that good in bed! You, sir, are a wretched soul! I am rubber, you are glue! — Bryan Lee O'Malley

Titter," Radcliffe muttered as he pushed the window open on the first empty room he found on the main floor. "What the devil is a titter? And how the hell am I supposed to try not to look so large?" Shaking his head with disgust, he held the window open with one hand as he sat on the ledge, then swung one leg after the other over the sill and into the room. Standing, he let the window slide closed, then took a moment to brush the wrinkles out of his skirt and yank at the bottom of his bodice to straighten it before hurrying across the room.
Pausing at the door, he pressed an ear to it to listen briefly, then eased it open and peered out. It was early afternoon and yet it seemed the women were all still abed. Slipping into the hallway, he pulled the door gently closed and hurried as quickly as a man could in a dress that kept catching at his boot spurs, toward the stairs. — Lynsay Sands

She sleeps a lot these days " Matt explained. "And she's emotional to boot. If I didn't love her so much I'd probably strangle her."
"Emotional?"
"Yeah." Matt Vereker a younger, masculine version of Ray, gave an ear-to-ear grin. "Pregnant women are like that, you know."
"Preg - " The bottom dropped out of his stomach. Eli fumbled for the chair behind him then fell into it hard. His head swam. She wasn't seriously ill. "She's ... "
"If you can't even say it, how the hell do you think Ray feels. — Lori Foster

Travis came up behind her, his hat brim bumping her head as he nuzzled her neck. She giggled and danced away, feeling playful yet oddly shy at the same time. Travis gave chase, his husky laughter blending with hers as the two of them darted out of the barn. When they neared the porch, he grabbed her about the waist and lifted her off her feet. Meredith squealed. "You can't escape me," Travis murmured in her ear as he gently settled her back on the ground. Meredith turned in his arms to face the man she loved. "I've no desire to." His eyes darkened, and for a moment she thought he would kiss her. But then he scooped her into his arms and carried her up the porch steps. The front door proved more of a challenge to conquer. Travis had to juggle his hold on her a bit before he could get the latch open. Meredith laughed in delight, endeared by his awkward efforts. Once the door was cracked, he kicked it wide with his boot and carried her over the threshold. "Welcome home, Mrs. Archer. — Karen Witemeyer

Hey!" Eddie said. The baby [T-Rex] lunged forward, and clamped its jaws around the ankle of his boot. He pulled his foot away, dragging the baby, which held its grip tightly. "Hey! Let go!"
Eddie lifted his leg up, shook it back and forth, but the baby refused to let go. He pulled for a moment longer, then stopped. Now the baby just lay there on the ground, breathing shallowly, jaws still locked around Eddie's boot. "Jeez," Eddie said.
Eddie looked down at the tiny, razor-sharp jaws. They hadn't penetrated the leather. The baby held on firmly. With the butt of his rifle, he poked the infant's head a couple times. It had no effect at all. The baby lay on the ground, breathing shallowly. Its big eyes blinked slowly as they stared up at Eddie, but it did not release its grip. — Michael Crichton

Lawless stood off to the side, one black boot resting to the wall, the same shade of long coat hanging down by his ankles, his shaved head and ink along his neck giving the only impression needed, he was a mean bastard when he had to be.
He was flipping a silver coin along the backs of his knuckles like he was out for the day and enjoying himself.
Crazy fucker was juiced just waiting for the call to the plate, his bag of tricks sitting at his feet as though he'd brought his gym clothes to work. There was nothing in that bag made for fun, not if you were on the receiving end anyway.
Lawless always had a lot of fun using his tools. — V. Theia

Be deaf to those who love you most of all; they pray for bad things with good intentions. — Seneca.

We're all watching him. It's the one thing we can really do, and it is not for nothing: if he were to falter, fail, or die, what would become of us? No wonder he's like a boot, hard on the outside, giving shape to a pulp of tenderfoot. That's just a wish. I've been watching him for some time and he's given no evidence, of softness.
But watch out, Commander, I tell him in my head. I've got my eye on you. One false move and I'm dead.
Still, it must be hell, to be a man, like that.
It must be just fine.
It must be hell.
It must be very silent. — Margaret Atwood

You told me that Kafka was not a thinker, and that a "genetic" approach to his work would disclose that much of it was only a kind of very imaginative whining. That was during the period when you were going in for wrecking operations, feeling, I suppose, that the integrity of your own mental processes was best maintained by a series of strong, unforgiving attacks. You made quite an impression on everyone, in those days: you ruffled blouse, you long magenta skirt slit to the knee, the dagger thrust into your boot. "Is that a metaphor?" I asked, pointing to the dagger; you shook your head, smiled, said no. — Donald Barthelme

Everyone kept touching, touching, touching. 'Hello, Jes.' They'd say. 'Good to have you back.' Touch. Touch. Touch."
"I'm sorry. You should have asked them not to touch you."
"Hennea said, 'Stop touching the man, you fools. It hurts him.' and they stopped touching me." He pulled off a boot and looked up with a pleased expression.
"Hennea yelled at them?" Seraph asked surprised.
He shook his head. "No, she just said it very firmly. But she can touch me. I told her so."
"In front of everyone?" asked Rinnie, horrified.
Seraph was hard put not to laugh. — Patricia Briggs

She was very ugly - the ugliest person you ever saw in your life! Her hair was scraped into a bun, sticking straight out at the back of her head like a teapot handle; and her face was round and wrinkly, and she had eyes like two little black boot-buttons. And her nose! - she had a nose like two potatoes. She wore a rusty black dress right up to the top of her neck and right down to her button boots, and a rusty black jacket and a rusty black bonnet, all trimmed with trembly black jet, with her teapot-handled of a bun sticky out at the back. And she carried a small brown case and a large black stick, and she had a very fierce expression indeed on her wrinkly, round, brown face.
But what you noticed most of all was that she had one huge front Tooth, sticking right out like a tombstone over her lower lip. You never, in the whole of your life, ever saw such a Tooth! — Christianna Brand

THE BACK DOOR, what was left of it, scraped open again, and they could hear boot steps on the stoop, and Lucas said, "This is it, Grace. Who's going after Bowden? Give me something that'll give you a break." She shook her head. "Fuck you. — John Sandford

Karou was mysterious. She had no apparent family, she never talked about herself, and she was expert at evading questions
for all that her friends knew of her background, she might have sprung whole from the head of Zeus. And she was endlessly surprising. Her pockets were always spilling out curious things: ancient bronze coins, teeth, tiny jade tigers no bigger than her thumbnail. She might reveal, while haggling for sunglasses with an African street vendor, that she spoke fluent Yoruba. Once, Kaz had undressed her to discover a knife hidden in her boot. There was the matter of her being impossible to scare and, of course, there were the scars on her abdomen: three shiny divots that could only have been made by bullets. — Laini Taylor

You know, it's funny ... when you're making money, people don't think you're playing jazz. Now when you're not making money, people think that you're a good jazz musician. — Pete Fountain

Why is it that those who are the most concerned with manners rarely have any themselves? — Heidi Schulz

Juliette Ferrars." A voice detonates my name. There's a heavy boot pressed on my back and I can't lift my head to distingush who's speaking to me.
"Weston, dim the lights and release her. I want to see her face." The command is cool and strong like steel, dangerously calm, effortlessly powerful.
The brightness is reduced to a level I'm able to tolerate. The imprint of a boot is carved into my back but no longer settled on my skin. I lift my head and look up.
I'm immediately struck by his youth. He can't be much older than me. It's obvious he's in charge of something, though I have no idea what. His skin is flawless, unblemished, his jawline sharp and strong. His eyes are the palest shade of emerald I've ever seen.
He's beautiful.
His crooked smile is calculated evil. — Tahereh Mafi

I like the condition of being an outsider, just passing through. — Barry Unsworth

How you've both successfully struggled to overcome the barbarism of your district." Barbarism? That's ironic coming from a woman helping to prepare us for slaughter. — Suzanne Collins

Time is a circus, always packing up and moving away. — Ben Hecht

The only thing altruism will get you here is a boot stomping on your head. — Henry Mosquera

The obvious liberal rejoinders come to mind: What about the child whose home is hit by a bomb? Did she have some bomb-shaped thoughtform that brought ruin down on her head? And did my [fired white-collar workers] boot-camp mates cause the layoffs that drove them out of their jobs by "vibrating" at a layoff-related frequency? It seems inexcusably cruel to tell people who have reach some kind of personal nadir that their probem is entirely of their own making ... — Barbara Ehrenreich

Transform our way of perceiving things, we transform the quality of our lives. — Matthieu Ricard

With a boot on his chest, she used her free hand to search for the syringe he surely carried. Found it. Jabbed it into his thigh. Waited with the gun to his head until his eyes shut and his jaw went slack. Punched him just to be sure. The sedative would have been measured to heavily dose Neeva and her nearly half-weight to his, but at this point, what the fuck ever.
A group of pedestrians on the other side of the street had watched the entire scene. Munroe waved them on. "It's official business," she said, and whether they believed her or not, they moved on. Human nature was always more inclined to apathy, to avoiding
involvement, to seeing things as someone else's problem. People were easy like that. — Taylor Stevens

But ideas are a bit like dandelions. Like a tiny seed clinging to an explorer's boot, an idea can cross the Atlantic lodged in the back of someone's head. — James West Davidson

For unto you is given this day a boot to the head. — Adam Sternbergh

The more you move, the stronger you'll grow, not like a tree that can be killed if you uproot it. — Ha Jin

I know you well enough, you are the old fool Van Helsing. I wish you would take yourself and your idiotic brain theories somewhere else. Damn all thick-headed Dutchmen! — Bram Stoker

In the timeless and universal manner of authors conversing in public places, he did not fail to mention its title, Volume III of Principia Mathematica entitled, The System of the World, available shortly, where books are sold. — Neal Stephenson

It is not about knowing, but about living. — Victor Manuel Rivera

What's the last thing you remember?" I ask instead. "Dancing." "You were at a bar, a nightclub? In Boston?" It takes her a bit, but finally, "Y-y-yes." "Did you drink too much?" A small hiccup I take to be yes. Kids, I think. We're all so young and fearless once. Nightclubs are nothing but a source of adventure. And a fourth, fifth, sixth rum runner the best idea in the world. I hated myself for my own stupidity, waking up in a coffin-size box. Minute after minute, day after day, so much time to do nothing but repent. And — Lisa Gardner

Cam gave him a halfhearted boot on the top of his head with the heel of one hand. "Why don't you shut
up until I say what I have to say?"
The painless smack and impatient order were more comforting to Seth than a thousand promises. — Nora Roberts

Well-meanin' man. Did it all for the best." Stalky curled gracefully round the stair-rail. "Head in a drain-pipe. Full confession in the left boot. — Rudyard Kipling

I hate you." "I know you do, babe," I whispered. "If it makes you feel better, you can pretend you have a choice. — Anonymous

Ole Anderson! Layin' down could not take me out with a steel toed boot! Could not put me away with a steel toed boot! And I'm gonna say it right now and get it through your head ... BOTH OF
YA (Ole Anderson and Ivan Koloff) THIS THANG WILL NEVER BE OVAAAAAAAAAAAAAA — Dusty Rhodes