Quotes About Confrontation

What do you have against violins?" I asked Andrea. "Not violins, Arlo! Violence!

he'll have me bloody head.

come-to-Jesus meeting in

Pinched silence. Then, "You were the one making eyes at him, always putting yourself in his path.

In the middle of the house stood the largest, scariest man she'd ever seen. Senhor Finch had been sunshine, but this foreigner was a night storm. He seemed to fill the house like a dark cloud. Too big, too strong, his gaze too sharp on her. And as she turned to flee, he thundered, "Stop!" And the next second, the man had her arm in his grip.

Just so you know, the only thing keeping this dog from tearing you to pieces is me, so I suggest you stand still, very still, and tell me what I want to know.

And now that blood had been spilled, he understood it wouldn't end until one of them was on the ground.

Kindly remove your hand from mine, Lady Simms, or I will not be responsible for what I shall do to you." She only looked at him — and did not let go.

Captain Lord? For God's sake, do sit down, you look fair to fainting!" "I er, cannot, sir—" The tip of Orla's sword was pointed at his groin, and held so close to the stainless white breeches that the captain could not move without risk of injury.

Ah, such pluck, such fire! Indeed, madam, I will touch you . . . but were you to go down without a fight, I should be sadly disappointed. . . So, indulge yourself, Maeve, and"—his fingers caught her collar and pulled it downward, exposing her neck and shoulders to his mouth—"fight.

The almirante smiled, and the pirate felt sweat break out the length of his spine. I will kill you, those eyes promised. You may depend on it. He would too, el Perro Negro knew. The English admiral would not forgive him for his treatment of the puta.

You, my brother, have some explaining to do," she murmured, and taking his arm, hustled him outside.

There he stood, tall, lethal, and silhouetted in the doorway. He was holding a pistol and it was leveled directly at Ralph. In his eyes Gwyneth saw only darkness and a total absence of soul. In his eyes, Gwyneth saw the devil incarnate.

Wipe the scowl off yer face, Sunshine," he said. "It's unbecoming." "You took a liberty with me." "You all but asked me to." "You were… vulgar." "What, by showing ye the effect ye have on me? By forcing ye to listen to yer own body?" He gave a little laugh. "' Twas only a kiss. Not like I stole yer virtue or anythin'." He deposited

She flipped through the pages, noting the meaning of each flag even as another gun poked out of the warship's sides . . . and another. And closed the book with a furious snap. "What's he saying, Captain? What's he saying?" She stared at the big ship, the colorful array of flags waving in the wind. "He says," she muttered, on a dark little laugh, "that if I so much as even think of sailing off, he'll blow us out of the water.

He strode right up to the door of her cabin, seized the latch, and yanked. Locked. "Open the door, Maeve." "Rot in hell, you wretch!" "Open the damned door, Maeve." "I said, go to—" He raised his foot, drew back, and with all his strength, kicked the latch. Once, twice—and then the door crashed open under the force of his blows and he was in the cabin and striding angrily across the tiny space.

Outnumbered? What about Le Favre, that little maggot in command of the French frigate? Where was he durin' all this?" Morgan shrugged. "Bolted as soon as things got hot." "Bolted, did he? When I catch up to him he's goin' to wish his arse had been blistered in butter and set afire.

Maeve's temper exploded. "Furthermore," she raged, "I will not marry you and spend my days as a—" The admiral clapped his hand over her mouth. She bit him. He never flinched, only grinning and pushing his palm harder against her teeth to smother her snarls of fury.

Plan I—Plying the Enemy with Flowers and Gifts—was not working. Plan II—Bringing Aboard the Enemy's Crew— seemed to be failing miserably. It was time to put Plan III—Enticing the Enemy Out of Port—into action.

If you're afraid of heights, lean over a railing. If you're afraid of germs, lick a floor. But what do you do if your greatest fear is of being afraid?

This approach extended to the raucous all-employee street hockey games in the parking lot ("No one held back when fighting the founders for the puck," recalled one player) and to the all-company Friday forums, where anyone could challenge the founders with any question under the sun, no matter how controversial—and vice versa. Like the hockey games, the Friday forums often turned into collision-filled affairs.

You don't merely give over your creativity to making a film-you give over your life In theatre, by contrast, you live these two rather strange lives simultaneously you have no option but to confront the mould on last night's washing-up.

Emotional intelligence does not mean merely "being nice". At strategic moment it may demand not "being nice", but rather, for example, bluntly confronting someone with an uncomfortable but consequential truth they've been avoiding.

While self-flagellation seems motivating—especially to Americans, whose mental models of motivation often begin with howling, red-faced, vein-popping football coaches—it often produces helplessness. Self-compassion, by contrast, prompts people to confront their difficulties head-on and take responsibility for them, researchers have found.