Face Plant Quotes & Sayings

Our political culture is now so debased that we regularly hear 'do gooders' getting the blame for things. Enviromentalists trying to stop a coal-burning power plant or a new runway that will (let's just remember) DESTROY THE EARTH are branded as our enemies, these 'do gooders'. Like doing good is a bad thing. You read all the time in the press that 'do gooders' are to blame - a sweepingly derogatory term. Or even worse, the 'so-called do gooders'. I've never once read that the blame was being put fairly and squarely on 'cunts', and let's face it 'cunts' must be behind fucking things up far more things than 'do gooders'. If it's not 'cunts' then I blame those 'so-called cunts'. — Frankie Boyle

Many different kinds of sprouts lay torn. Green, purple and orange leaves lay scattered across the dark soil, and the thorn fence surrounding the bed had a fist-sized hole in it. Teacher eased himself into a squat, poked at the inside of the hole. Whatever made the hole had left blood on the thorns. The sprouts looked like wispy ghosts, pale and broken. Their delicate leaves and stems were riddled with bites. Life drained out of them like water dripping from a hanging cloth, and a breeze made them dance sadly. It felt like a funeral.
Teacher picked up a gnawed berry and gently squeezed it until purple juice dripped down his thumb. He placed the berry by the plant's roots.
Chandi's small face bunched up. "Are they dead?"
"They're dying, yes." Yuvali took her hand. "But their bodies will help other plants grow. — B.T. Lowry

If you haven't had a major fail in your career - face-plant level - you aren't trying hard enough. — Sallie Krawcheck

I wanted to kick Bruce in the taint. No one is just one thing. Many things contribute to the whole of a person, and just because vodka accounts for 50 percent of my body weight, that doesn't mean I walk around with a vodka drip, forcing every plant, person, or animal to imbibe. I've always had a disliking for animal trainers, and this guy cemented my theory that people who chaperone animals for a living have never had a girl sit on their face. — Chelsea Handler

Maybe universal nostalgia doesn't exist. Maybe each of us carries our own personal version of the better times. It's at about twnety-two years that we all begin to think of our childhood as the good ol' days and everything afterwards exists as a slow-motion face plant. The fall continues, through marriage, through career building, through parenthood, through old age, until we finally touch nose to ground. At twenty-two years old, I've just started, but I think I can already smell my own grave. — Caleb J. Ross

And then there are the cravings.. Oh, la! A woman may crave to be near water, or be belly down, her face in the earth, smelling the wild smell. She might have to drive into the wind. She may have to plant something, pull things out of the ground or put them into the ground. She may have to knead and bake, rapt in dough up to her elbows.
She may have to trek into the hills, leaping from rock to rock trying out her voice against the mountain. She may need hours of starry nights where the stars are like face powder spilt on a black marble floor. She may feel she will die if she doesn't dance naked in a thunderstorm, sit in perfect silence, return home ink-stained, paint-stained, tear-stained, moon-stained. — Clarissa Pinkola Estes

I guess it's better to have a chalk smile, than an ink smile. Where chalk changes with the direction of wind, ink stays as a deep stain. Like rain, sun and hail against a fake plant. — Anthony Liccione

You made friends with a prickler?" Hawk says, standing just inside the secret opening, apparently having come inside during my story, "I'm confused," Adele says. "At first I thought pricklers were some kind of plant, but are they an animal? Or some weird kind of person?"
"We ate your friend" Tristan says, his handsome face screwed up even more. — David Estes

Without warning, he sprawled forward, doing a face-plant in the snow.
At first, we laughed and teased. the normally surefooted Kerrick brushed snow off his cape, grumbling good-naturedly. — Maria V. Snyder

You promise you're not going to hurt me?"

I untie the cord from around her wrists and pull her into my arms.

Then I throw her down on the desk and plant a kiss on her so intense I feel her nipples harden underneath me.

She hesitates at first, but when I tease her bottom lip with my tongue she opens her mouth and lets out a low moan.

I pull away and give her a cocky smirk. "Did that hurt?"
She opens her mouth to say something, but pauses.

The resonating slap across my face with the palm of her hand throws me for a loop.

"Don't you fucking touch me again until I get some answers asshole," she says as she pushes me off of her and pries herself from the desk.

I rub my cheek and stare at her in awe.

God, I love this woman. — Ashley Jade

Always in life an idea starts small, it is only a sapling idea, but the vines will come and they will try to choke your idea so it cannot grow and it will die and you will never know you had a big idea, an idea so big it could have grown thirty meters through the dark canopy of leaves and touched the face of the sky.' He looked at me and continued. 'The vines are people who are afraid of originality, of new thinking. Most people you encounter will be vines; when you are a young plant they are very dangerous.' His piercing blue eyes looked into mine.' Always listen to yourself, Peekay. It is better to be wrong than simply to follow convention. If you are wrong, no matter, you have learned something and you grow stronger. If you are right, you have taken another step toward a fulfilling life. — Bryce Courtenay

I was more of a 'run into things head-first and face-plant a wall' type of fighter. — Jennifer L. Armentrout

Harrowing
The plow has savaged this sweet field
Misshapen clods of earth kicked up
Rocks and twisted roots exposed to view
Last year's growth demolished by the blade.
I have plowed my life this way
Turned over a whole history
Looking for the roots of what went wrong
Until my face is ravaged, furrowed, scared.
Enough. The job is done.
Whatever's been uprooted, let it be
Seedbed for the growing that's to come
I plowed to unearth last year's reasons
The farmer plows to plant a greening season. — Parker J. Palmer

I am a true adorer of life, and if I can't reach as high as the face of it, I plant my kiss somewhere lower down. Those who understand will require no further explanation. — Saul Bellow

The plant is blind but it knows enough to keep pushing upwards towards the light, and it will continue to do this in the face of endless discouragements. — George Orwell

A deposit insurance system is like a nuclear power plant. If you build it without safety precautions, you know it's going to blow you off the face of the earth. And even if you do, you can't be sure it won't. — L. William Seidman

Damn, Claire. Warn a guy before you do a face-plant on the floor next time. I could have looked all heroic and caught you or something -Shane — Rachel Caine

The world expects of Christians that they will raise their voices so loudly and clearly and so formulate their protest that not even the simplest man can have the slightest doubt about what they are saying. Further, the world expects of Christians that they will eschew all fuzzy abstractions and plant themselves squarely in front of the bloody face of history. We stand in need of folk who have determined to speak directly and unmistakably and come what may, to stand by what they have said. — Albert Camus

We come from seed," he told his son, smiling. "We grow up, blossom, and produce fruit. Then the fruit dries and goes into the ground to make the next crop. The old plant doesn't die so much as it gives itself to the soil to nurture the new plant. Since energy is neither created nor destroyed, only altered, dying is the other face on the coin of life. Nothing to be afraid of, really. After all, my boy, we all pass from this plane into another. It's inevitable, like the rainbow after the storm. — Diana Palmer

Also, even if technocrats provide reasonable estimates of a risk, which itself is an iffy enterprise, they cannot dictate what level of risk people ought to accept. People might object to a nuclear power plant that has a minuscule risk of a meltdown not because they overestimate the risk, but because they feel that the cost of a catastrophe, no matter how remote, are too dreadful. And of course any of these trade-offs may be unacceptable if people perceive that the benefits would go to the wealthy and powerful while they themselves absorb the risks. Nonetheless, understanding the difference between our best science and our ancient ways of thinking can only make our individual and collective decisions better informed. It can help scientists and journalists explain a new technology in the face of the most common misunderstandings. And it can help all of us understand the technology so that we can accept or reject it on grounds that we can justify to ourselves and to others. — Steven Pinker

FRECK: (Casually) I bought a methedrine plant today. BARRIS: (With a snotty expression on his face) Methedrine is a benny, like speed; it's crank, it's crystal, it's amphetamine, it's made synthetically in a lab. So it isn't organic, like pot. There's no such thing as a methedrine plant like there is a pot plant. FRECK: (Springing the punch line on him) I mean I inherited forty thousand from an uncle and purchased a plant hidden in this dude's garage where he makes methedrine. I mean, he's got a factory there where he manufactures meth. — Philip K. Dick

A writer must face up to the test of reality, including political reality, and that can't be done if he keeps his distance. A literary style cultivated like a hothouse plant may show a certain artificial purity, but it won't really be pure. — Gunter Grass

To become a monk, or a nun, or to join a House of of Mercy, is not the high road to sanctification. True holiness does not make a Christian evade difficulties, but face and overcome them. Christ would have His people show that His grace is not a mere hot-house plant, which can only thrive under shelter, but a strong, hardy thing which can flourish in every relation of life. It is doing our duty in that state to which God has called us
like salt in the midst of corruption, and light in the midst of darkness
which is a primary element in sanctification. — J.C. Ryle

And now the sun with more effectual beams Had cheered the face of earth, and dried the wet From drooping plant, or dropping tree; the birds, Who all things now behold more fresh and green, After a night of storm so ruinous, Cleared up their choicest notes in bush and spray, To gratulate the sweet return of morn. — John Milton

I have often caught sight of myself, my spine humped over, defining my hollowness, my head too heavy for my body, swinging like the oversized blossom of some cruelly bred plant; admiration for the world spread for the world to see on my gullible face-unlike my other face with the sour look of a starved peasant. — Maureen Howard

Wisdom is in measured routine. Three naps a day will keep you fit, nine breakfasts before noon, spin until you fall on your back, and thrust your face into a nettle plant. Drink at least five cups of a mare's urine and look upon your self in a silver mirror while you hold your air in your chest. — Benjamin Franklin

Get your sticky fingers away from my cookies," Ben ordered, without turning his head, to see Jaxton trying to steal one from the cooking tray.
"You weren't saying that last night," Jaxton retaliated, coming up to Ben's side, to give him a nudge. They were both smiling, while looking down at the counter, where Ben was making his delicious rosemary cookies. "In fact, I seem to remember you grabbing my sticky fingers and putting them in your mouth," he teased, speaking quietly, so that Lyon wouldn't hear them at the other side of the room.
Ben turned to Jaxton and abandoned his baking, to catch his face in flour covered hands and plant a deep kiss on his lips.
Jaxton opened his mouth, in acceptance of his kiss.

~ From the Heart — Elaine White

When you're up against a trouble, meet it squarely, face to face. Lift your chin and set your shoulders, plant your feet and take a brace. When it's vain to try to dodge it, do the best that you can do. You may fail, but you may conquer. See it through! — Edgar Guest

No risk is more terrifying than that taken by the first root. A lucky root will eventually find water, but its first job is to anchor -- to anchor an embryo and forever end its mobile phase, however passive that mobility was. Once the first root is extended, the plant will never again enjoy any hope (however feeble) of relocating to a place less cold, less dry, less dangerous. Indeed, it will face frost, drought, and greedy jaws without any possibility of flight. The tiny rootlet has only once chance to guess what the future years, decades -- even centuries -- will bring to the patch of soil where it sits. It assesses the light and humidity of the moment, refers to its programming, and quite literally takes the plunge. — Hope Jahren

One in eight plant species face extinction. — David Attenborough

God's love is not a pampering love. God's love is a perfecting love. God does not get up every day trying to figure how He can plant a bigger smile on your face. God is in the process of growing us and changing us. His love is a transforming love. — James MacDonald

If a certain country conducts uranium-related activities in a certain plant, the bombing of that plant is forbidden. If such a disaster occurs, America would not be able to show its face for all eternity. — Gholam Reza Aghazadeh

I've always liked a formal layout and informal planting," she explained. "First get the structure right, like the bones in a face, then plant it like a crowded shoe. If you have a strong layout, you can let the plants seed themselves all over the place. Haphazard, unexpected ... I like to be surprised by a garden. — Nancy Lancaster

Guess what?" she said to us. "Someone chopped down a tree in Mrs. Spencer's garden last night."

I stared at her incredulously for a moment. Not a much-loved family member, then, not a nuclear power plant. My eyes went to Florence's face, which was wet with tears. Was she really crying over Mr. Snuggles?

Unobtrusively, I slipped past Lottie and over to the coffee machine, put the biggest cup I could find under it, and pressed the cappuccino button. Twice.

"A tree? But why?" asked Mia with a perfectly judged mixture of curiosity and mild surprise.

"No one knows," said Lottie. "But Mrs. Spencer has already called in Scotland Yard. It was a very valuable tree."

I almost laughed out loud. Yes, sure. I bet they had a special gardening squad to investigate such cases. Scotland Front Yard. Good day, my name is Inspector Griffin and I'm looking into the murder of Mr. Snuggles. — Kerstin Gier

And what do you do in the face of this powerlessness? As a parent?"

"You get to be obsessed and angry," Tom said. "And they get to be the age they are, and act like teenagers if they want to. There is a zero-percent chance you will change them. So we breathe in, and out, talk to friends, as needed. We show up, wear clean underwear, say hello to strangers. We plant bulbs, and pick up litter, knowing there will be more in twenty minutes. We pray that we might cooperate with any flicker of light we can find in the world. — Anne Lamott

[The cats] scamper in front of my legs, causing me to fall and face plant into whatever furniture is closest. They especially like to play this game when I'm carrying piping hot coffee. — Wes Locher

He was becoming an effective human being. He had learned from his birth family how to snare rabbits, make stew, paint fingernails, glue wallpaper, conduct ceremonies, start outside fires in a driving rain, sew with a sewing machine, cut quilt squares, play Halo, gather, dry, and boil various medicine teas. He had learned from the old people how to move between worlds seen and unseen. Peter taught him how to use an ax, a chain saw, safely handle a .22, drive a riding lawn mower, drive a tractor, even a car. Nola taught him how to paint walls, keep animals, how to plant and grow things, how to fry meat, how to bake. Maggie taught him how to hide fear, fake pain, how to punch with a knuckle jutting. How to go for the eyes. How to hook your fingers in a person's nose from behind and threaten to rip the nose off your face. He hadn't done these things yet, and neither had Maggie, but she was always looking for a chance. When — Louise Erdrich

It's all I can do not to turn my face toward his, the way a plant grows toward the light. — Amie Kaufman

I grow savager and savager every day, as if fed on raw meat, and my tameness is only the repose of untamableness. I dream of looking abroad summer and winter, with free gaze, from some mountain-side, ... to be nature looking into nature with such easy sympathy as the blue-eyed grass in the meadow looks in the face of the sky. From some such recess I would put forth sublime thoughts daily, as the plant puts forth leaves. — Henry David Thoreau

It was not till I experimented with seeds plucked straight from a growing plant that I had my first success ... the first thrill of creation ... the first taste of blood. This, surely, must be akin to the pride of paternity ... indeed, many soured bachelors would wager that it must be almost as wonderful to see the first tiny crinkled leaves of one's first plant as to see the tiny crinkled face of one's first child. — Beverley Nichols

It's not the plant-based foods that will make you ill, it's the meat and the liquid meat (i.e.: dairy) that can lead to sickness and death. Consider this: If your food had a face or a mother (or comes from something that did), then it also has varying amounts of artery-clogging, plaque-plugging, and cholesterol-hiking animal protein, animal cholesterol, and animal fat. These substances are the building blocks of the chronic diseases that plague Western society. — Rip Esselstyn

Because I know." Daemon appeared in front of me, eyes narrowed. He thumped his hand off his chest, directly above his heart. "Because I know what I feel in here. And I'm not the type of person to run from anything, no matter how hard it is. I'd rather face-plant against a brick wall than live for the rest of my life wondering what could've been. And you know what? I don't think you were the type to run either. Maybe I was wrong — Jennifer L. Armentrout

People can be threatened by someone with ambition, no matter how low the stakes or how small the rewards. And while lots of people will plant a smile on their face and say they're pleased, behind closed doors the whispers form a kind of toxic cloud of gas that goes out on the wind and finds you eventually. — Julia Kent

Just pretend you know what you're doing. Plant a menacing scowl on your face and stand guard at the door. If someone advances your way, brandish the weapon and bellow like an Arcrean clansman. — Nicole Sager

Brooke fussed over the wounded lady as they transferred her to the pallet, going so far as to plant a kiss on her brow to praise her bravery.
"What a kiss," Portia complained. "As if I were a child."
Brooke cupped her face in his hands and kissed her thoroughly. He released her only when Portia's faint growl of protest melted to a pleased sigh. "There, was that better?"
"Quite." Portia's cheeks pinked.
"All right, then. Now be a good little girl, and lie still."
She swatted at him feebly as he and Denny lifted the pallet - Brooke carrying the end at Portia's head, and Denny lifting her feet. — Tessa Dare

I'm sick of them. I never want to see them again. Except Aros; he smells nice. And Rome; because he's so strong I'm pretty sure not even Rau can get past him. I don't need the others. Except Siret. I'm pretty sure he hates me, but he's really good at catching me like just before I face-plant into something. But the others, I don't need them. Not at all." I paused, my brow furrowing, my mouth pursing, and then I quickly blurted, "Except Coen and Yael. Coen is really good at making decisions, and if I leave out Yael he'll probably hunt me down and haunt me-"
"That's all of them," Emmy interrupted smoothly. — Jaymin Eve

Because I know what I feel in here. And I'm not the type of person to run from anything, no matter how hard it is. I'd rather face-plant against a brick wall than live for the rest of my life wondering what could've been. And you know what? I didn't think you were that type to run, either. Maybe I was wrong. — Jennifer L. Armentrout

Tucker snorts. "Sage is a fighter, it spreads over the land like wildfire, sucking up all the water, the nutrients in the earth, until everything else dies. It's a heart little plant, that I'll give it. But it's gray and ugly and ticks love to hide in it. You ever seen a tick?" He glances over at me. The look on my face must be pretty appalled because suddenly he gives and uncomfortable cough and says quietly, "Sage does have a nice smell. — Cynthia Hand