Quotes About Injury

Even the bravest men fear death and maiming

Sometimes it seemed as though he'd thumped his head on half the doors in Westeros, not to mention every beam in every inn from Dorne up to the Neck.

Might have punctured a lung, if he had a lung. Most trees don't, as a rule.

Then Royce's parry came a beat too late. The pale sword bit through the ringmail beneath his arm. The young Lord cried out in pain. Blood welled between the rings. It seemed red as fire where they touched the snow.

Underneath his steal and wool and boiled leather, Jaime Lannister was a tapestry of cuts and scabs and bruises.

There was this to be said for weddings over battles, at least; it was less likely that someone would cut off your nose.

Often, even with a deep cut, the blood came before the pain.

He had a four-inch gash on his forehead and the blood was running down his face and into his moustache. Larry had one eye bruised and scraped and rapidly swelling.

Lion's hurt his paw. It's really rather sore.

The injury we do and the one we suffer are not weighed in the same scales.

In an injury has to be done to a man it should be so severe that his vengeance need not be feared.

There is no ghost so difficult to lay as the ghost of an injury.

A mind all logic is like a knife all blade. It makes the hand bleed that uses it.

Thou hast added insult to injury.

. . . 'twill turn your eyeballs black and blue.

As to Caesar, when he was called upon, he gave no testimony against Clodius, nor did he affirm that he was certain of any injury done to his bed. He only said, "He had divorced Pompeia because the wife of Caesar ought not only to be clear of such a crime, but of the very suspicion of it."

Anything other than death is a minor injury.

Officer down. Officer down. I'm an officer now, am I? That's insult to injury.

She reached down, favoring her injured arm and chose a Galaxy bar that hadn't been flattened by the wrestling match. "I'm going home." "You didn't pay for that," Francois shouted after her. "Fuck you, Frank," she shouted back and kept going.

What happened to you? she asked. I got hit in the side. With what? A knife.

With stumbling feet, he blindly walked somewhere, anywhere. When he got to the king's study, he looked over his shoulder and checked the carpet over which he'd trodden. No trail of his blood. Which, considering the way his chest was hurting, was a surprise. Sure as shit felt like he'd been shot in the heart.

Are you all right?" "Leg's shot" "How shot?" "Well, I'm looking at the heel of my shitkicker and the front of my knee at the same time. And there's a high probability I'm going to throw up.

He hung up and looked at Rhage. "Hate this," the brother said. "I know." Wrath moved the sticky, blood-soaked hair out of the vampire's face. "We're going to get you home." "Didn't like seeing you shot." Wrath smiled softly. "Clearly.

After a moment, he dropped his head and started to kiss her again, and she kissed him right back, giving him everything she had, trying to reassure him not just about his own injury, but the very future of the race. Which was maybe nuts. But sometimes that was all you could do—just pour your hope and love into your partner because they needed the support, even though it arguably wasn't going to change or improve what was really going on.