Quotes About Clumsy

I fell asleep and dreamed that I was a machine, mimicking the functions of life, creaking and clanking my clumsy way through a world, people too polite to say anything but giggling behind my back, and the little man who sat inside my head pulling the levers and clutches and watching the dials, he was hopelessly mad and was storing up hurts for the day- Mandella—wake up, goddammit, your shift!

A subtle-witted man is like an arrow, which, rending little surface, enters deeply, but they whose minds are dull resemble stones dashing with clumsy force, but never piercing.

Doc awakened very slowly and clumsily like a fat man getting out of a swimming pool. (chap 32)

Doc awakened very slowly and clumsily like a fat man getting out of a swimming pool. His mind broke the surface and fell back several times.

I remembered the last time I put this thing into my eye it was more painful than watching old political speeches while listening to the "Macarena" and having a root canal performed by an angry, clumsy chimp.

Ah! It's fortunate for you that those who bred you brought you into the world to rank and riches; what would ever have become of you, so wasteful as you are. Look at him throwing away his crescent because it touched the bed. There he goes, now, look, he's spilling his milk, wait till I tie a napkin round you, for you could never do it for yourself, never in my life have I seen anyone so helpless and so clumsy as you.

How could a person be clumsy, just standing? And yet she felt she was, as clumsy as one of those blocks of boxwood being seasoned there, unshaped, indelicate.

The thing is, my father has about as much rhythm as a drunken octopus […]

I'm, like, super-clumsy and weird and funny and dorky.

I just finished running, and I look and smell like nothing very pleasant. Why, oh, why did he have to bump into me now?

I was doing some decorating, so I got out my step-ladder. I don't get on with my real ladder.

The way Lind sees it, the only Western commander who ever mastered third-generation warfare was George Patton. All others remained stuck in second-generation warfare, a blunt, clumsy instrument that had long outlived its usefulness and only worked because of the overwhelming advantage in firepower they enjoyed over Germany.

He was a master in the art of spreading boredom and playing the clumsy fool-though never so egregiously that people might enjoy making fun of him or use him as the butt of some crude practical joke inside the guild. He succeeded in being considered totally uninteresting. People left him alone. And that was all he wanted.

It was as unsatisfying as a handjob from someone wearing an oven mitt.