Muscle Football Quotes & Sayings

I was an atheist until I realized I was god. What happens if you get scared to death >twice. National sarcasm society:like we need your support.some girls wear Prada some girls we're glock 17 short recoil spring loaded semiautomatic pistols with a loaded chamber indicator and a nonstop drip. — Darynda Jones

Some people work with a trainer, some people work with a stylist. I work with a celebrity fecalist. A fecalist is basically a person who comes and collects my stools, and then examines them to see if I'm eating right and if I should be drinking more water and what my moods should be. — Tina Fey

He's probably somewhere right now eating a Big-N-Tasty. The man has a coffee pot, a microwave, AND a mini refrigerator in his classrooom. If you plan on having a conversation with him, I suggest you do it over the phone. Otherwise, you'll need a motorcycle helmet just to avoid the Snickers shrapnel flying from his mouth! — Piper Faust

I collect a lot of clothes when I travel around the world. — Theophilus London

Wisdom makes light the darkness of ignorance. — Gautama Buddha

Those Panthers ... those itsy, bitsy football players ... those hearty, gutsy guys from the oilfields ... what about 'em? Yep, its incredible, amazin' and unbelievable, but the li'lfellers do occasionally catch the best end of the stick. All the reasons for the phenomenal support of Permian had been embodied by this 1980 varsity team. They were a classic bunch of overachievers who had become living proof of all the perceived values of white working-class and middle-class America-desire, self-sacrifice, pushing oneself beyond the expected limit. They were the kinds of values that the Permian fans harbored about themselves. What made those boys great on the football field had made the fans great as well. Just as the boys had produced against all odds, so they had produced in the oil field against all odds, not with brains and fancy talk but with brawn and muscle and endurance and self-sacrifice. — H. G. Bissinger

Oh, man,' Beck breathed. 'Check out the car.' It was white with a black top. The hood looked as as long as a football field. 'Sure is big,' was all I could manage to say. Beck gazed longingly at the beast, his eyes glowing in appreciation. 'You know what that is?'
'Uh, no. Should I?'
'It's a fully restored, two-door 1973 Monte Carlo. Muscle car, big time.'
'Bet it's hard to park. — Marilee Brothers

Journalism can never be silent: that is its greatest virtue and its greatest fault. It must speak, and speak immediately, while the echoes of wonder, the claims of triumph and the signs of horror are still in the air. — Henry Anatole Grunwald

Football is an absolutely idiotic pastime by any rational standards. You're running into other people as hard as you can, you get frequent muscle strains and ligament tears, and the protective padding really doesn't do all that much to absorb the blunt trauma. — Chris Kluwe

It only took me 21 runs and five years to get a win here. — Andy Pettitte

I was 15, and the years of hard swimming had packed muscle on my frame and made me very strong. Not as strong as a football player, but strong enough to inflict heavy damage. — Esther Williams

Nervous? He's tighter than Pat Buchanan's sphincter muscle at a 4th of July soiree on Fire Island. — Dennis Miller

You might think the thinner version of yourself is going to be the most positive or confident, but that's not how it is for me. When I'm over 200 pounds, that's when I'm the most confident version of myself. — Garrett Hedlund

It was the way he put ketchup on his plate so I could eat his fries. The way I automatically pulled the tomatoes off my burgers and slid them onto his plate. It was the fact that I went to him first whenever something happened I wanted to share. And the way we made each other's coffee exactly as we drank it. Love is in the details. It's in the everyday. It's the way you treat someone when they aren't even looking and the way they fill your head when you're apart. — Cambria Hebert

Chymia, or Alchemy and Spagyrism, is the art of resolving compound bodies into their principles and of combining these again. — Georg Ernst Stahl

Ballet: men wearing pants so tight that you can tell what religion they are. — Robin Williams

Cancer. The word meant the same to me as tsunami or piranha. I had never seen them; I wasn't even quite sure what they were, but I knew they were bad and I knew in many cases they were deadly. — Natalie Palmer

Now he laughs for real, cackling with the wicked innocence of the bright and easily bored. Staff Sergeant David Dime is a twenty-four-year-old college dropout from North Carolina who subscribes to the Wall Street Journal, the New York Times, Maxim, Wired, Harper's, Fortune, and DicE Magazine, all of which he reads in addition to three or four books a week, mostly used textbooks on history and politics that his insanely hot sister sends from Chapel Hill. There are stories that he went to college on a golf scholarship, which he denies. That he was a star quarterback in high school, which he claims not to remember, though one day a football surfaced at FOB Viper, and Dime, caught up in the moment, perhaps, nostalgia triggering some long-dormant muscle memory, uncorked a sixty-yard spiral that sailed over Day's head into the base motor pool. — Ben Fountain