A Quote by Holly Black
More and more I feel like the boy who cut off his nose to spite his face.
Related Quotes
Everything is connected, so you can't just live in a Trumpian world and be an isolationist when you're managing government by congressional district or by city. The mentality that you can cut off one area to punish a policy just doesn't work in the real world... it's cutting off your nose to spite your face.
When I ask Plutarch about his absence, he just shakes his head and says, "He couldnt face it." "Haymitch? Not able to face something? Wanted a day off, more likely," I say. "I think his actual words were 'I couldn't face it without a bottle,'" says Plutarch.
Jack was balancing a spoon on his nose when I walked in. "You," I said knocking it off his face. "Me!" He answered cheerfully.
It's Toby Jones playing Alfred Hitchcock, not Alfred Hitchcock. We all felt that his silhouette was crucial, so his nose and lips were crucial as well. We had to build it out a bit to get the silhouette. But, with my nose being so small within the proportion of my face, the first nose was too big. I felt like a nose on parade.
The Queen of Hearts, she made some tarts, all on a hot summer's day. The Knave of Hearts, he stole those tarts. The mad Queen said, "Off with his head! Off with his head! Off with his head!" Well... that's too bad... no more heads to cut.
I feel like the job in editing is to let the movie tell you what it is. It's like sculpture. You just start taking away, you add a nose here, you cut off like the side of the cheek over here in the crease and you have a face. But it really reveals to you what it means to be over time, and if you have enough time.
I feel like the job in editing is to let the movie tell you what it is. So again, it's like sculpture. You just start taking away, you add a nose here, you cut off, like, the side of the cheek over here in the crease, and you have a face. But it really reveals to you what it means to be over time, and if you have enough time.
Can you just saw his arm off while we're here and get me loose? (Amanda) I could do that, but he needs his more. I'd cut yours off before I did his. (Tate) Oh, great, what are you, his Igor? (Amanda) Wrong movie, Igor was Frankenstein's flunky. Renfield is the one you're thinking of, and no, I'm not Renfield. Name's Tate Bennett. Parish coroner. (Tate)
She's my friend, the boy said simply. That's who she is and that's enough for me. As Minli looked at the buffalo boy, aglow with happiness against his poor surroundings, she saw it was enough for him. More than enough, as the smile that kept curling up on his face told her.
When the father dies, he writes, the son becomes his own father and his own son. He looks at is son and sees himself in the face of the boy. He imagines what the boy sees when he looks at him and finds himself becoming his own father. Inexplicably, he is moved by this. It is not just the sight of the boy that moves him, not even the thought of standing inside his father, but what he sees in the boy of his own vanished past. It is a nostalgia for his own life that he feels, perhaps, a memory of his own boyhood as a son to his father.
Once committed to fight, cut. Everything else is secondary. Cut. That is your duty, your purpose, your hunger. There is no rule more important, no commitment that overrides that one. Cut. Cut from the void, not from bewilderment. Cut the enemy as quickly and directly as possible. Cut decisively, resolutely. Cut into the enemy’s strength. Flow through the gaps in his guard. Cut him. Cut him down utterly. Don’t allow him a breath. Crush him. Cut him without mercy to the depths of his spirit." -Richard Rahl
Pressed up against him, I can feel the thud of his heart against mine, his ribcase expanding and contracting rapidly against my chest, the warm whisper of his breath tickling the side of my neck, the brush of his leg against my thigh. Resting my arms on his shoulders, I pull back a little to get a look at his face. But he isn't smiling any more.
Do you remember when Fabio got hit in the face with a pigeon on the roller coaster, and it broke his nose? Sometimes I feel like I'm the pigeon, and the Internet is Fabio's face. Actually, I don't know if I'm the pigeon, or I'm Fabio's face. Depends on the day, I guess.
Baseball is something more than a game to an American boy; it is his training field for life’s work. Destroy his faith in its squareness and honesty and you have destroyed something more; you have planted suspicion of all things in his heart.
Every boy learns more in his hours of play than in his hours of labor. In school, he lays in the materials of thinking, but in his sports, he actually thinks: he whets his faculties, and he opens his eyes.
When it comes to something like Brexit, I am part of the liberal-media London bubble, and so, to me, voting to leave was madness. My perspective was that it was cutting off your nose to spite your face.
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