Quotes About Men

I glanced back at Oren and one of his men- not Eli. This man was older. Oren had called him the team's arctic specialist. Because every Texas billionaire needed an arctic specialist on their security team.

An alien priory, only a few miles distant, with its own miracle-working saint, and the great Benedictine house of Shrewsbury as empty of relics as a plundered almsbox! It was more than Prior Robert could stomach. He had been scouring the borderlands for a spare saint now for a year or more, looking hopefully towards Wales, where it was well known that holy men and women had been common as mushrooms in autumn in the past, and as little re

THEY WERE QUIET MEN who discussed murder in normal tones.

MEN who discussed murder in normal tones.

Well then! it was the end; his ruin was complete. Even if he mended the cables and lit the fires, where would he find men? Another fortnight's strike and he would be bankrupt. And in this certainty of disaster he no longer felt any hatred of the Montsou bandits; he felt that all had a hand in it, that it was a general agelong fault. They were brutes, no doubt, but brutes who could not read, and who were dying of hunger.

There she stood, by herself, amidst all her treasures, with a whole horde of men grovelling at her feet. Like those dreaded monsters of old whose lairs were littered with bones, she was walking on skulls and surrounded by cataclysms.

Nana was smiling still, but her smile was now bitter, as of a devourer of men.

I like a look of Agony, Because I know it's true— Men do not sham Convulsion, Nor simulate a Throe— The Eyes glaze once—and that is Death— Impossible to feign The Beads upon the Forehead By homely Anguish strung.

Did life's penurious length Italicize its sweetness, The men that daily live Would stand so deep in joy That it would clog the cogs Of that revolving reason Whose esoteric belt Protects our sanity.

No matter what the circumstances. I am more like most men in this regard. No second chances. It's not so much about morality, but about my inability to forgive. I'm a champion grudge holder, and I don't think I could change this about myself even if I wanted to.

I felt myself tense up, having long noticed that this was something men (and boys, obviously) did after any breakup. Dub their exes "crazy." Discredit them, make it seem as if the men were lucky to have gotten out of the relationship. In fact, Julie had once told me it was the most common narrative in the aftermath of a divorce—the justification men used for their own misconduct. A form of misogyny.

No point my telling you he's not worth it, I suppose. . . I've seen enough men in my time. Whoever he is, he's not worth what you'll pay.

I win, and we discover that when men peer into a car that is blasting True Faith on the outskirts of San Franscisco, they are disappointed to see three women.

What will you do with the lazy ones, who would not work?' No one is lazy. They grow hopeless from the misery of their present existence, and give up. Under our order of things, every men would do the work he liked, and would have as much as his neighbor, so could not be unhappy and discouraged.

There were only two men on the planet better educated in the various martial arts than Butler, and he was related to one of them. The other lived on an island in the South China Sea, and spent his days meditating and beating up palm trees. You really had to feel sorry for those goblins.

The others ignored him, busy doing what men generally do in dangerous times: putting on their trousers.

Maybe if we're living in the middle of a development with plenty of witnesses, then Hooke might settle down some and back off. Squib's warped reasoning was based on a child's understanding of evil men. He couldn't know that specimens like Regence Hooke didn't get settled down; they got riled up.

For what else is tragedy than the portrayal in tragic verse of the sufferings of men who have attached high value to external things? [27]

First to those universal principles I have spoken of: these you must keep at command, and without them neither sleep nor rise, drink nor eat nor deal with men: the principle that no one can control another's will, and that the will alone is the sphere of good and evil.

For what else is tragedy than the perturbations ([Greek: pathae]) of men who value externals exhibited in this kind of poetry?

For what else is tragedy than the portrayal in tragic verse of the sufferings of men who have attached high value to external things?

This World is one great City, and one if the substance whereof it is fashioned: a certain period indeed there needs must be, while these give place to those; some must perish for others to succeed; some move and some abide: yet all is full of friends--first God, then Men, whom Nature hath bound by ties of kindred each to each.

The most serious misfortune for a busy man who is overwhelmed by his possessions is, that he believes men to be his friends when he himself is not a friend to them, and that he deems his favours to be effective in winning friends, although, in the case of certain men, the more they owe, the more they hate.

It makes no difference what men think of war…. War endures. As well ask men what they think of stone. War was always here. Before man was, war waited for him. The ultimate trade awaiting the ultimate practitioner. —Cormac McCarthy, Blood Meridian