Quotes About Sword

It is said the warrior's is the twofold Way of pen and sword, and he should have a taste for both ways.

For a Tear is an Intellectual thing, And a Sigh is the Sword of an Angel King, And the bitter groan of a Martyr's woe Is an Arrow from the Almightie's Bow.

Hello," he said. "My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die.

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

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

Will you draw your sword with your free hand? I already have. Will you make a fist with yours? It's clenched.

A sailor? A common sailor? A common ordinary seaman bests the great Inigo Montoya with the sword? In-con-ceiv-a-ble. He must be the Dread Pirate Roberts. Otherwise it makes no sense.

You're a peasant and a fool and I want my sword. You're an enemy of art and I pity your ignorance.

Hola... me llamo Íñigo Montoya; tú mataste a mi padre; disponte a morir.

Nobody takes out a sword nowadays and cries, Hello. My name is Inigo Monotoya. You killed my father, prepare to die!

He would say simply, "Hello, my name is Inigo Montoya, you killed my father, prepare to die," and then, oh then, the duel.

I am Inigo Montoya and I do not accept defeat.

He would find the six-fingered man. He would go up to him. He would say simply, "Hello, my name is Inigo Montoya, you killed my father, prepare to die," and then, oh then, the duel.

Potem dobywa nagiego i przetrzymawszy chwilk? w d?oni wk?ada z powrotem do pochwy. Wiedzcie, ?e pi?knie mu z mieczem u boku, a jeszcze pi?kniej – z mieczem w d?oni.

Could a make-believe sheriff chop off Billy's head with a make-believe sword?

As Charles de Gaulle observed in his meditation on leadership, The Edge of the Sword (1932), the artist 'does not renounce the use of his intelligence' – which is, after all, the source of 'lessons, methods, and knowledge'. Instead, the artist adds to these foundations 'a certain instinctive faculty which we call inspiration', which alone can provide the 'direct contact with nature from which the vital spark must leap'.

The past is the Jabberwock. Forget not the fallen, but beware the jaws and claws. With your vorpal blade going snicker-snack, kill the fucker, as you go galumphing on.

What a pity it is that war, with its terrible suffering and devastation, should often be more vivid than peace. In war, your comrades mean everything to you, life is unsure and thus precious, and you know that the sword is raised above you. Now it is peace. Your friends still mean everything, life is still precious, and look--why didn't you notice it?--there's the sword, still raised above you.

Nothing made you look like more of a dick than standing there trying to find the end of your scabbard with the tip of your sword.

Sometimes I think I am fate's sword. She wields me cruelly." Quentin wondered what it was like to be so unselfconsciously melodramatic. Nice, probably. "Right.

Nothing happened, then broke Poppys hand the smoth surface like the Lady in the lake, except thst the hand, instead of holding a magical sword, in this case only did a big, entusiastic thumb up-sign

Sometimes I think I am fate's sword. She wields me cruelly.

La espada gasta la vaina, dice el proverbio. He aquí mi historia. He vivido de mis pasiones y mis pasiones me han matado.

Cielo santo, una bestia con una espada —siseó la criatura. Giró de nuevo la cabeza hasta colocarla del derecho y parpadeó dos veces—. Me pregunto si ha perdido el juicio. ¡Las espadas pasaron de moda hace siglos!