Quotes About Bruising

I had a body wax. It's the most painful thing I have ever done in my life. I had every single hair on my body pulled out, and I really bruised.

Nay, [2] after conversion we need bruising, that (1) reeds may know themselves to be reeds, and not oaks; even reeds need bruising, by reason of the remainder of pride in our nature, and to let us see that we live by mercy. And (2) that weaker Christians may not be too much discouraged when they see the stronger shaken and bruised.

back to the lodge. "He's a bruising rider—we wouldn't

Teachers' favorite color ink, splashed and dripped down his face a grisly reminder of mistakes bruising his life.

Can they, like get fingerprints from her neck? Can they catch the guy that way?" "This guy isn't an amateur. He probably used gloves." "How do you know he isn't an amateur, Sherlock?" "There's bruising on the left-hand knuckles, and on the sides of both hands. Probably would be on the right-hand knuckles, too, if we had them." "She hit him," Howie said. "She fought back.

I patted her on the arm, indulgently. My mother's delicacy was a part of her character she had adamantly clung to over the years, even as her occupation of not moving from the couch softened her and made her, well, motherly. I once heard her tell a friend that she was, in fact, a 120-pound woman, but she kept herself wrapped in fat in order to prevent bruising.

After about five minutes had passed, I went outside and they'd gone. When I checked my hand to see if my knuckles were swelling or any bruising was coming up I got a shock, there was false tan on my knuckles! I still chuckle about that to this day.

I've had a few injuries and if you can't carry on, that's always a bad sign. Sometimes it's bruising or sometimes it's a nerve that stops you.

She had the kind of thin bony body and hard face that speaks of addiction and the streets. There was a nearly healed cut over one eye with faint purplish bruising, and Troy tried to feel the sympathy she obviously deserved, but his heart was as hard and suspicious as an ex-girlfriend's.

And now here he was in my kitchen. Smelling like apple pies and looking at me with a direct seriousness that made him even cuter. The bruising spreading up the side of his face had halted, and under it he was very pretty. Not jock-pretty, or the hurtful kind of pretty that tells you a guy is too busy taking care of his royal self to think about you.