Face That Kills Quotes & Sayings

Your moment of clarity comes when you face your fears. Sobriety gave me back me - my life. Self-medication kills you slowly. You can never get a handle on that. It's a highly destructive force that has to be dealt with on a spiritual level as much as a physical one. — Chaka Khan

Fabre stood up. He placed his fingertips on d'Anton's temples. "Put your fingers here," he said. "Feel the resonance. Put them here, and here." He jabbed at d'Anton's face: below the cheekbones, at the side of his jaw. "I'll teach you like an actor," he said. "This city is our stage."
Camille said: "Book of Ezekiel. 'This city is the cauldron, and we the flesh' ..."
Fabre turned. "This stutter," he said. "You don't have to do it." Camille put his hands over his eyes. "Leave me alone," he said. "Even you." Fabre's face was incandescent. "Even you, I am going to teach." He leapt forward, wrenched Camille upright in his chair. He took him by the shoulders and shook him. "You're going to talk properly," Fabre said. "Even if it kills one of us." Camille put his hands protectively over his head. Fabre continued to perpetrate violence; d'Anton was too tired to intervene. — Hilary Mantel

I gave my father a heart attack. It was a practical joke. Come on, you push a guy's face in a cake he's got to clean it off. You hit a guy with a water balloon, he's got to dry off. Guy's in the hospital, you get his testicles shaved, he scratches and bleeds for a week ... it's funny ... you're not supposed to have a heart attack, it kills the joke. — Christopher Titus

My body rises with the water. Instead of kicking my feet to stay abreast of it, I push all the air from my lungs and sink to the bottom. The water muffles my ears. I feel its movement over my face. I think about snorting the water into my lungs so it kills me faster, but I can't bring myself to do it. I blow bubbles from my mouth.
Relax. I close my eyes. My lungs burn. — Veronica Roth

A grim expression came over Syah's face. "The colt you speak of lost its mother during a storm. If this stallion was that colt, it is not just wild, it is insane. That horse will break your bones."
"And that will be a worthy end, a prince struck down by such a noble steed."
Fasime pushed himself off the support of the fence, but Oman grabbed his arm.
"It's not worth it, Brother."
"I can tame him."
"What will we tell Mother and Father if he kills you?" Oman questioned.
"Tell them I gave my life with pride. Do not punish him if he kills me. Release him back into the wild, and my spirit will ride him into the mist. — D.M. Raver

Shawshank's good," he says. "But you can't beat the way Woody Harrelson kills zombies. He takes such joy in it."
"Uh-huh," I say, making a face. "I've always found zombies to be the least threatening of the scary monsters. I mean, come on. They're slow. They're brain-dead. They don't plot evil or try to take over the world. They just - " I put my arms out in front of me and give him my best zombie groan. I shake my head. "So not scary."
"But they just. Keep. Coming," Christian says. "You can run, you can kill them, but more of them always pop up, and they never stop." He shudders. "And they try to eat you, and if you get bitten, that's it - you're infected. You're doomed to become a zombie yourself. End of story."
"Okay," I concede, "they're kind of scary," and now I'm vaguely disappointed that we're not here to watch a zombie movie. — Cynthia Hand

My grandma told me never, ever, ever to use soap on my face. But I do use lotion. — Natalia Kills

I shove the wooden debris out of the way until I see the smudged face of the teddy bear. "There she is." I carefully pull out the bear and sword. I proudly flip the bridal veil skirt to show him the scabbard. Raffe stares at the disguised sword for a second before commenting.
"Do you know how many kills this sword has?"
"It's a perfect disguise, Raffe."
"This sword is not just an angel sword. She's an archangel sword. Better than an angel sword, in case that's not clear. She intimidates the other angel swords — Susan Ee

For each man kills the thing he loves yet each man does not die
he does not die a death of shame on a day of dark disgrace
nor have a noose about his neck, nor a cloth upon his face
nor drop feet foremost through the floor into an empty space
He does not sit with silent men who watch him night and day
Who watch him when he tries to weep and when he tries to pray
Who watch him lest himself should rob the prison of its prey — Oscar Wilde

So he's harmless, then."
"I wouldn't say that, exactly."
"No?"
"I would n't slip up behind him with a knife, for he might retaliate."
Michael shrugged. "But that's to be expected. He kills only when necessary."
Mary covered her face with her hands and moaned. — Karen Hawkins

To handicap a student by teaching him that his black face is a curse and that his struggle to change his condition is hopeless is the worst sort of lynching. It kills one's aspirations and dooms him to vagabondage and crime. — Carter G. Woodson

It is not your beautiful face or soft skin that kills me; it is your simplicity and being you. — M.F. Moonzajer

He lifted his hand away from her face and claws ripped from his fingertips. "Go outside," Jamie ordered Sean. "Guard the door, just in case ... " "Uh, yeah, in case the crazy bitch gets loose and kills you?" No. He wasn't worried about that. Jamie had this, her. "In case we've been tracked. I don't want anyone stopping me. Not until I've put the bond in place. — Cynthia Eden

I see the look on her face that says nothing can happen to her if she's holding on to her dad. It kills me to hate them so much for having that. — Melina Marchetta

The letter kills the spirit. The written text is mute in the face of responding challenge. It does not admit of inward growth and correction. Text subverts the absolutely vital role of memory. — George Steiner

"I am so sorry, Joe," he whispered, gently pushing her hair away from her face and neck. "I know I keep fucking up," he said, pressing a kiss to her neck, "and that by all rights you should bitch slap me, but I can't stand the idea of you getting hurt."
His hand found its way to her panty clad hip and gave her a gentle squeeze. "It kills me to think of what could have happened that night, Joe," he explained softly as he pressed another kiss to her neck. "Do you have any idea how lost I would be without you?"
"You're my entire world, Joe," he said, pressing another kiss to her neck, this time lingering. "I don't know what I'd do without," he said against her skin. — R.L. Mathewson

Practically all of the successful Negroes in this country are of the uneducated type or of that of Negroes who have had no formal education at all. The large majority of the Negroes who have put on the finishing touches of our best colleges are all but worthless in the development of their people. If after leaving school they have the opportunity to give out to Negroes what traducers of the race would like to have it learn such persons may thereby earn a living at teaching or preaching what they have been taught but they never become a constructive force in the development of the race. The so-called school, then, becomes a questionable factor in the life of this despised people. As another has well said, to handicap a student by teaching him that his black face is a curse and that his struggle to change his condition is hopeless is the worst sort of lynching. It kills one's aspirations and dooms him to — Carter G. Woodson

He knows if he kills this man he will see his face every night before he goes to sleep. That his face will become more vivid to him than his own face. If he kills the man he will be forced to wear this man's face for the rest of his life. — Glenn Haybittle

The eyes of someone you kill are immortal, if they face you at the fatal instant. They have a terrible black color. They shake you more than the streams of blood and the death rattles, even in a great turmoil of dying. The eyes of the killed, for the killer, are his calamity if he looks into them. They are the blame of the person he kills. — Francine Prose

It was a glorious morning. The wind had fallen quite, and the sun was shining as if he would say, "Keep up your hearts; I am up here still. I have not forgotten you. By and by you shall see more of me." But Nature lay dead, with a great white sheet cast over face and form. Not dead? - Just as much dead as ever was man, save for the inner death with which he kills himself, and which she cannot die. It is only to the eyes of his neighbours that the just man dies: to himself, and to those on the other side, he does not die, but is born instead: "He that liveth and believeth in me shall never die." But the poor old lord felt the approaching dank and cold of the sepulchre as the end of all things to him - if indeed he would be permitted to lie there, and not have to get up and go to worse quarters still. — George MacDonald

But trust me, it's best to face something head on, smash it, and move on with your life. Lingering and wondering, waiting and worrying ... that kills you. — Jennifer Ashley

Then I saw a wan face
Not pinned by human sorrows, but bright blanched
By an immortal sickness which kills not;
It works a constant change, which happy death
Can put no end to; deathwards progressing
To no death was that visage; it had passed
The lily and the snow; and beyond these — Dan Simmons

So, Kurt Cobain kills himself at 27 and becomes a legend. People like that are one in a million. I'm just a normal human being. I agonize and suffer, but I also laugh all the time. People all die someday and disappear as if they never existed, but that's natural. I though I wasn't afraid of dying. No, NOBODY is actually afraid of dying itself. The pain of suffering lasts for an instant. What truly agonizes me... Is the thought of your crying face from far far across the entire galaxy. You were always prettiest when you smiled. — Inio Asano

I do not aim with my hand; he who aims with his hand has forgotten the face of his father.
I aim with my eye.
I do not shoot with my hand; he who shoots with his hand has forgotten the face of his father.
I shoot with my mind.
I do not kill with my gun; he who kills with his gun has forgotten the face of his father.
I kill with my heart. — Stephen King

Upon my word, sir,'said he, 'I've hardly looked at her. It is not a matter of looks now, as it used to be. It has got beyond that. It is not that I am indifferent to seeing a pretty face, or that I have no longer an opinion of my own about a woman's figure. But there grows up, I think, a longing which almost kills that consideration. — Anthony Trollope

From the moment that man submits God to moral judgment, he kills Him in his own heart. And then what
is the basis of morality? God is denied in the name of justice, but can the idea of justice be understood
without the idea of God? At this point are we not in the realm of absurdity? Absurdity is the concept that
Nietzsche meets face to face. In order to be able to dismiss it, he pushes it to extremes: morality is the
ultimate aspect of God, which must be destroyed before reconstruction can begin. Then God no longer
exists and is no longer responsible for our existence; man must resolve to act, in order to exist. — Albert Camus

So you're a fellow mercenary, then."
"Does this mean you'll afford me some professional courtesy?"
"Don't ask for that. All it means is that you might get to face the person who kills you ... But only if it's convenient. — Howard Tayler

I want you to know that I appreciate you trusting me with this, and understand that it doesn't change a goddamn thing between us. But it kills me that you would rather your mom hate you for the rest of her life than tell her the truth." Leo ran his strong hands up and down God's thighs. God put his large palm on that gorgeous face and placed his forehead gently against Leo's. "Thank you, sweetheart, but I'm okay with this. This is the hand life dealt me. But now I have you, right." God said it more as a statement of fact. "Yes. You have me for as long as you want me." Day held him back. God — A.E. Via

I'm not your pet project anymore. I don't fucking need you to help me adjust because let's face it ... I'm doing just fine here. I've played by all your silly rules. I eat with my fucking utensils, and I don't go around killing people on a whim. I understand your rules, and nothing about this world freaks me out. And I was tired of fucking hiding what we have. Do you know how much it kills me not to be able to touch you when I want, or to keep my eyes averted for fear someone might guess that were fucking each other? I was sick of it, and I'm glad I did it, and I'd do it again. So be pissed at me if you want, but I'm fucking the remaining bitterness out of you tonight. — Sawyer Bennett

- He can't wear them, Buck Mulligan told his face in the mirror. Etiquette is etiquette. He kills his mother but he can't wear grey trousers. — James Joyce

Body Colors BodyColors Sets Player's Brick colors Shirt Graphic ShirtGraphic T-shirt graphic Health Script Heals or Kills HealthScript v3.1 Script Manages Health GUI Humanoid Humanoid Gives life-like characteristics RobloxTeam Script Manages your team colors Robloxclassicred Hat Sets your hat's appearance Sound Script Plays sounds on movement Animate Script Animates Character on action Head Brick Head's appearance & face Left Arm Brick Left Arm Brick Left Leg Brick Left Leg Brick Right Arm Brick Right Arm Brick Right Leg Brick — Brandon LaRouche

Indifference

This hate has blossomed like a living love,
grieving, watching its own exhaustion.
It seeks a face, it seeks flesh, as though it were love.

The worldly flesh and the voices that spoke
are dead, all has shuddered away,
all life hangs on a voice.
Days pass in bitter ecstasy to the sad
caress of the voice that returns
and drains the blood from our faces. Not without sweetness
that voice returns to the mind exhausted
and trembling: once it trembled for me.

But the flesh does not tremble. Only love
could set it alight, this hate seeks it out.
All the possessions, all the flesh and all the voices
in the world cannot equal the burning caress
of that body and those eyes. In the bitter ecstasy
that kills itself, this hate still finds
each day a glance, a broken word,
and grasps them, hungrily, like love. — Cesare Pavese

Perrin told me about his people before I ever came here," she said. He was not a man to brag, but things had a way of coming out. "When hail flattens your crops, when the winter kills half your sheep, you buckle down and keep going. When Trollocs devastated the Two Rivers, you fought back, and when you were done with them, you set about rebuilding without missing a step." She would not have believed that without seeing for herself, not of southerners. These people would have done very well in Saldaea, where Trolloc raids were a matter of course, in the northern parts at least. "I cannot tell you the weather will be what it should tomorrow. I can tell you that Perrin and I will do what needs to be done, whatever can be done. And I don't need to tell you that you will take what each day brings, whatever it is, and be ready to face the next. That is the kind of people the Two Rivers breeds. That is who you are. — Robert Jordan

It's very hard to keep your spirits up. You've got to keep selling yourself a bill of goods, and some people are better at lying to themselves than others. If you face reality too much, it kills you ... you've got to find an answer to the question: Why go on? — Woody Allen

You're seriously suggesting this?" Az interrupted, his face full of disbelief. "That I what, dump her so she kills herself? That's fucked up. — Leah Clifford

The name of life is Pain right now,
Growing pain, a familiar pain,
pain the tares my soul apart,
Pain that only those who have seen death face to face can understand,
Pain that forces me to look up, or down, and then within,
The name of life is pain right now,
Pain that tares my heart and soul to pieces,
Pain that kills, and burns,
Growing pain; that 's the name life right now. — Quetzal

I always put on a brave face when I was the most terrified, the most trapped and out of control. — Natalia Kills

Hey now," Maahes said. "Don't be making that face. Okay? You start crying, I start crying, and I look like a total freak when I cry. Nothing worse than a big-ass man blubbering like a baby. Totally kills my chances with the women. You know? — Sherrilyn Kenyon

What, after all, do I stand for besides an archaic code of gentlemanly behaviour towards captured foes, and what do I stand against except the new science of degradation that kills people on their knees, confused and disgraced in their own eyes? Would I have dared to face the crowd to demand justice for these ridiculous barbarian prisoners with their backsides in the air? Justice: once that word is uttered, where will it all end? Easier to shout No! Easier to be beaten and made a martyr. Easier to lay my head on a block than to defend the cause of justice for the barbarians: for where can that argument lead but to laying down our arms and opening the gates of the town to the people whose land we have raped? The old magistrate, defender of the rule of law, enemy in his own way of the State, assaulted and imprisoned, impregnably virtuous, is not without his own twinges of doubt. — J.M. Coetzee

It is with blows dealt by public contempt that a husband kills his wife in the nineteenth century; it is by shutting the doors ofall the drawing-rooms in her face. — Stendhal