Quotes About Swordplay

I see you will have it, Mr. Jettan. I will meet you when and where you will. Philip patted his sword-hilt. I have noticed, Mr. Bancroft, that you habitually don your sword. So I took the precaution of wearing mine. 'When' is now, and 'where' is yonder! He pointed above the hedge that encircled the garden to the copse beyond. It was a very fine theatrical effect, and he was pleased with it.

Lockwood led the way down a side street, rapier glinting beneath a long, heavy overcoat that swung stylishly behind him. George and I trotted alongside.

Every time you strip my sword, I owe you a kiss. How's that sound?" I bit my lip to keep from giggling. "That sounds really dirty." Patch waggled his brows. "Look whose mind just rolled into the gutter.

That's the paradox, people aren't interested in reading about settling on Mars or flying to the stars—all the things that people really can achieve, but Others can't. But they dream about becoming magicians, rushing into battle with a big sharp sword…. If only they knew what the wounds from a real sword look like!…What does all this mean? That a medieval world in which magic exists is the one most attractive to people!

Hello!" I shouted at the Six-Fingered Man one final time. "My name is Inigo Montoya! You killed my father. Prepare to die!

Costis, what do you think you are doing? Sparring, Your Majesty. Most people cross swords before they spar and they say something introductory like 'Begin!' before they swing.

At the best, sarcasms, bitter irony, scathing wit, are a sort of sword-play of the mind. You pink your adversary and he is forthwith dead: and then you deserve to be hung for it.

To make it more familiar to me, I ended up treating my swordplay scenes like choreography. So it was, 'One and two and three and four and five, and turn and step and down and up and lunge.'

Behind him were three Arctic voyages in search of the North-West Passage. Before him were two books of seamanship and six fatal cuts of a Japanese pirate's sword.

Let's play who can be a better killer. My sword and I love this game.

As a pirate, she once undressed a fencing instructor using only her sword!

Because we are amorphous we hold that in reverence, thus the blade is swung.

Child, use your brain. Think on your feet. Being polite and reserved is how we were raised, but we learned the hard way that the rest of the world isn't that way. I've perceived from conversation that you comprehend such things, like that swordplay with whatsit... that Titmouse, or whatever his name was. In other words, child, propriety has its place, but don't let your guard down. In real life, you never know who the plagers of Intrigue really are, or what they stand for.

First rule, stick them with the pointy end!

Jon smiled at him. "I'm sorry about your wrist. Robb used the same move on me once, only with a wooden blade. It hurt like seven hells, but yours must be worse. Look, if you want, I can show you how to defend that." Alliser Thorne overheard him. "Lord Snow wants to take my place now." He sneered. "I'd have an easier time teaching a wolf to juggle than you will training this aurochs." "I'll take that wager, Ser Alliser," Jon said. "I'd love to see Ghost juggle.

Queen Visenya put a sword into her son's hand when he was three. Supposedly the first thing he did with the blade was butcher one of the castle cats.

High, low, overhand, he rained down steel upon her. Left, right, backslash, swinging so hard that sparks flew when the swords came together, upswing, sideslash, overhand, always attacking, moving into her, step and slide, strike and step, step and strike, hacking, slashing, faster, faster, faster . . .until, breathless, he stepped back and let the point of the sword fall to the ground, giving her a moment of respite. "Not half bad," he acknowledged. "For a wench.

It is one thing to train in the yard with a blunted sword in hand, and another to drive a foot of sharpened steel into a man's gut and see light go out of his eyes.

Well, land sakes! Hiro says. Lookee here! He whips his blade sideways, cutting off both of the businessman's forearms, causing the sword to clatter onto the floor. Better fire up the ol' barbeque, Jemima! Hiro continues, whipping the sword around sideways, cutting the businessman's body in half just above the navel. Then he leans down so he's looking right into the businessman's face. Didn't anyone tell you, he says, losing the dialect, that I was a hacker? Then he hacks the guy's head off.

Always it is thus with my new students, and especially with the human ones; the mind is the last muscle they train or use, and the one that they regard the least. Ask them about swordplay and they can list every blow from a duel a month old, but ask them to solve a problem or make a coherent statement and... well, I would be lucky to get more than a blank stare in return.

The point of a presidential campaign is to put the candidate through the ringer: to force him to get banged up by his opponents and the press, and to have to answer the difficult and uncomfortable questions, be investigated, and learn the thrust and parry of political swordplay.

Wits, like drunken men with swords, are apt to draw their steel upon their best acquaintances.

As a general rule, like counters like. So you can try counterattacking with roverso fendente against roverso fendente, and so forth.

Hello . . . my name is Inigo Montoya; you killed my father . . . prepare to die . . . .