Quotes About Insult

Don't laugh at a hair joke, Trump.

Algún puto, cornudo, bujarrón y judío -dijo en altas voces- ordenó tal cosa!

Lemme take your picture! You fucking bok gwai low got a face carved out of rotten potato cured in dogshit, runover with a towtruck driven by Hellen Keller in a puke fit on pills...

Aber dann kommt mir nicht mehr über die Schwelle, habt Ihr das verstanden, Ihr vor Selbstmitleid triefender Kadaver von einem Hanswurst!

Raven Stone and Don Carson are the stupidest fucking people on the planet because their mothers didn't breastfeed them.

What you did tonight was clever," Wit said. "You turned an attack into a promise. The wisest of men know that to render an insult powerless, you often need only to embrace it.

Are you that afraid of being wrong? One would assume you'd be accustomed to it by now." He grunted. "Be careful, girl. You wouldn't want to accidentally insult a man." "The last thing I'd want to do is accidentally insult you, Vathah," Shallan said. "To think that I couldn't manage it on purpose if I wanted!

I'd be offended if I could be offended," he said. "Maybe I should start calling you a cow, since you have four limbs, are made of meat, and have rudimentary biological mental capacities.

My other hand?' Lopen said. 'The one that was cut off long ago, eaten by a fearsome beast? It is making a rude gesture toward you right now. I thought you would want to know, so you can prepare to be insulted.

If someone insulted my biceps, I wouldn't attack him," Dalinar said. "I'd refer him to a physician, because obviously something is wrong with his eyes.

Can I borrow David?" "Please, Prof," Cody said, "we're friends. You should know by now that you needn't ask something like that Ã¢â'¬Â¦ you should be well aware of my standard charge for renting one of my minions. Three pounds and a bottle of whiskey." I wasn't sure if I should be more insulted at being called a minion, or at the low price to rent me.

How did a man like you ever end up at a table of negotiation?" "I was trained by a surly Mistborn, a sarcastic Terrisman, and a group of disrespectful thieves," Elend said, sighing. "Plus, on top of that, I was a fairly insufferable person to begin with. But, kindly continue with your insult—I didn't mean to interrupt.

Or you could be a serial killer who specializes in reading books, then seeking out the authors and murdering them in horrible ways. (If you happen to fall into that last category, you should know that my name isn't really Alcatraz Smedry, nor is it Brandon Sanderson. My name is in fact Garth Nix, and you can find me in Australia. Oh, and I insulted your mother once. What're you going to do about it, huh?)

The wisest of men know that to render an insult powerless, you often need only to embrace it.

No, my friend," Wit said, standing up. "I've abandoned my real name. But when next we meet, I'll think of a clever one for you to call me. Until then, Wit will suffice—or if you must, you may call me Hoid. Watch yourself; Sadeas is planning a revelation at the feast tonight, though I know not what it is. Farewell. I'm sorry I didn't insult you more.

I've seen rocks that fly almost as well as you do - I could drop one in your seat, paint the head blue, and at least I'd stop getting lip!

All right, all right. No need to get grouchy just because I insulted you.

My other hand?" Lopen said. "The one that was cut off long ago, eaten by a fearsome beast? It is making a rude gesture toward you right now. I thought you would wish to know, so that you can prepare to be insulted.

You're not just evil, you're a selfish, crem-crusted eel who is trying to strangle this kingdom with his bulbous, bastard hand.

When a man or woman is truly honest (not just working at it) it is virtually impossible to insult them personally. There is nothing there to insult. Those who were truly ready for the kingdom were just such people. Their inner poverty of spirit and rigorous honesty had set them free. They were people who had nothing to be proud of.

When a man or woman is truly honest, it is virtually impossible to insult them personally.

You decline?" he cried, almost defiantly. " `Decline' isn't the word. A man doesn't decline an insult.

This is not a book in the ordinary sense of the word. No, this is a prolonged insult, a gob of spit in the face of art, a kick in the pants to God, Man, Destiny, Time, Love, Beauty... what you will.

Esto no es un libro. Es un libelo, una calumnia, una difamación. No es un libro, en el sentido ordinario de la palabra. No, es un insulto prolongado, un escupitajo a la cara del arte, una patada en el culo a Dios, al hombre, al destino, al tiempo, al amor, a la belleza... a lo que os parezca.