Quotes About Armor

Lynet scowled. "I'm just so tired of young knights wearing their father's armor and dreaming romantic dreams riding up to their death.

Thank you, Father," Sir Lancelot replied gratefully. "But ... er ... Father?" "Yes, Lancelot?" "You didn't say anything about my armor. Is it not shiny enough?

Yes, Father. They have the bravest hearts, the noblest souls, and the shiniest armor in all the world." "Shiniest armor?" repeated King Ban.

Thrice is he arm'd that hath his quarrel just, And he but naked, though lock'd up in steel, Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted.

Yet what happened in fact? In the middle of the night John woke up and saw me sleeping beside him with no doubt a look of peace on my face, even of bliss, bliss is not unattainable in this world. He saw me—saw me as I was at that moment—took fright, hurriedly strapped the armour back over his heart, this time with chains and a double padlock, and stole out into the darkness.

She wondered if there was a rule against shellans riding. Probably not... As long as she was sidesaddle, dressed in armor plating, and had a helmet made of reinforced, skid-resistant Kevlar, they'd probably let her go a few circles around the fountain in front of the house. Vroom-vroom. Fucking wheeeeeeee.

Your shield must surpass your weaponry.

The clothes felt like something more: fine chain-mail armor handmade to fit me, or robes laid out ready for some fiercely secret ceremony. They made my palms tingle when I touched them.

Large men in black plate mail with red cloaks and plumes don't sneak worth a damn.

But what did they protest? Inequality, which is the variety of God. Instability, which is the light of the universes. Uneasiness of mind, which is the soul of philosophy. Apparent injustices, which are the goad of the spirit. Vulnerability to life and other men, which is a charge to become invulnerable through Faith in God. The presence of suffering or misfortune—but these are a call for the soul to put on armor and serenity.

That's the paradox: the only time most people feel alive is when they're suffering, when something overwhelms their ordinary, careful armour, and the naked child is flung out onto the world. That's why the things that are worst to undergo are best to remember. But when that child gets buried away under their adaptive and protective shells—he becomes one of the walking dead, a monster.

In the first two episodes, before she becomes Queen, I could be a lot freer with my emotions, but as the series goes on, she develops an armour in order to cope with her circumstances. She has to be a sphinx, which must be so hard. Imagine never being able to shout, 'Shut up,' or cry, even in front of your own family.

The piece I most love wearing is Mother's gold brocade cocktail dress with matching jacket... It's 'flip and flirty,' as my mother prescribed. It's crisp yet splendid. It makes me feel I've put on made-to-order armor. My mother's armor. Armor that helped shield me from exclusion. Armor that helped shield me from inferiority.

As so often happens in marriage, roles that had begun almost playfully, to give line and shape to our lives, had hardened like suits of armor and taken us prisoner.

The armour of others is too wide, or too strait for us; it falls off us, or it weighs us down.

the armor of others is too wide, or too strait for us; it falls off us, or it weighs is down.

Cudza zbroja albo spada ci z pleców, albo ci??y, albo gniecie

Night thoughts have a different color than day thoughts, a different slant, more than anything else they know all the secret paths and chinks in the armor they can take advantage of to force their way into consciousness.

Don't give thanks now," said Orik with a chuckle. "Wait until the armor saves your life.

Angie: "How do I pitch these ideas to her?" Mira: "From a distance, preferably wearing body armor.

Maybe time didn't heal wounds exactly, but it gave you a kind of armor, or a new perspective. A

Any reviewer who expresses rage and loathing for a novel is preposterous. He or she is like a person who has put on full armor and attacked a hot fudge sundae.

She wore her ferocity like armor, and it was purely asexual armor. Liraz was untouchable and untouched.

Wrapped in tissue, safe from harm, and all they knew of life was gala events and the inside of the box. How dull. How dumb. By contrast, the grime of her journey, the outré inappropriateness of the state of her, it felt like armor. I earned this dirt. Respect. The dirt. "That's right," she said.