Quotes About Injury

He recovers and seems to possess all his earlier faculties, with one exception: the formerly mild-mannered Gage is now something of a hellion, an impulsive shit-starter.

There was no laudanum and Liddy made a terrible fuss when I proposed carbolic acid, just because I had put too much on the cotton once and burned her mouth.

I think Lucas is going to Misery your ass,' Stevie said. 'Sorry about your ankles.

If you hump away at menial jobs 360-plus days a year, does some kind of repetitive injury of the spirit set in? I don't know and I don't intend to find out, but I can guess that one of the symptoms is a bad case of tunnel vision. Work fills the landscape; coworkers swell to the size of family members or serious foes. Slights loom large, and a reprimand can reverberate into the night.

Here, bodily damage is more or less considered to be a by-product of living, not a disgrace.

Meg swore and hopped, nursing a bruised toe.

her feet got sweeped. "OW!" she hollered. "OW! OUCH! OW!

Boxers wear tape to protect their hands. But you get dependent on the tape, and then you don't know how to hit someone without it. Even Mike Tyson once broke a hand when he hit another fighter barehanded in a late night brawl. In a real fight, if you break your hand, you probably just lost the fight. If you were fighting for your life, you probably just lost that, too.

We see not just that which is uninjured, but that within us which is uninjurable.

It would have served me right if I'd had a cerebral aneurysm on the spot. Instead, I forgot all about my foot--until we shoved the flat onto the stage. I think we broke my ankle. This is bullshit. I have finals to worry about.

Ouch,' she mumbles. 'Somebody's superglued my joints.

Anyone who is equipped to hunt, harvest crops, chop firewood, or prepare salad has the means to damage a lot of human flesh.

It's highly unpleasant to be gassed, but then it's just as unpleasant to be perforated or shredded by pieces of metal.

Listen to the Lord's appeal:...Come, then, return to me and learn to know me as your father, who repays good for evil, love for injury, and boundless charity for piercing wounds.

A generous friendship no cold medium knows, Burns with one love, with one resentment glows; One should our interests and our passions be, My friend must hate the man that injures me.

People die from typewriters falling on their heads.

force them to discover with as much difficulty as possible exactly what they have done to disappoint you; and, finally, let them grope around blindly in the fog that you have generated around yourself until they stumble into and injure themselves on the sharp hidden edges of your unrevealed preferences and dreams.

What the fuck happened to you? [...] You look like you lost a fight with a lamprey. Hickey, hickey...bruise, bruise, bruise...bite. I thought that thing on your neck the other day was just a fluke. I guess not--looks like you get off on picking up a few souvenirs when you...get off. ~Crash

Had Marshal Foch accepted Matthias Erzberger's plea to stop the fighting on November 8 while negotiations were under way, likely, 6,750 lives would have been spared and nearly 15,000 maimed, crippled, burned, blinded, and otherwise injured men would instead have gone home whole. All this sacrifice was made over scraps of land that the Germans, under the armistice, were compelled to surrender within two weeks.

grasped his right hand by the fingers and pulled them all the way back. His wrist made a muted snick noise when it broke, not the loud snap I expected. He let out a loud, agonized scream. His right hand—his gun hand, I assumed—dangled uselessly, like a marionette off its strings.

Each of her soothing utterances battered me more grievously than the last—as if I were traveling in a perverse ambulance whose function was to collect a healthy man and steadily damage him in readiness for the hospital at which a final and terrible injury would be inflicted.

I learned later that the surgeon who put Dole back together after he was so badly injured in World War II was an Armenian whose family had deep memories of the genocidal campaign the Turks had waged against them.

that I slipped on some wet leaves, went nose over paws, and crashed into a tree. Great StarClan, it hurt! And what hurt even more was that I was pretty sure Firestar had to stop himself from laughing.

Being injured isn't bad, he reflected. It's kind of a relief to have to let some other cat take care of me.