A Quote by Shane Douglas

Your Shawn Michaels can lose his smile, and he's so afraid of me, he comes out and hands me his belt. Spineless! — © Shane Douglas
Your Shawn Michaels can lose his smile, and he's so afraid of me, he comes out and hands me his belt. Spineless!
Going into work and seeing Shawn Michaels - someone I watched growing up - how many people can say that? That they get to see people like Shawn Michaels at work and that they get to learn off Shawn Michaels. To me that's insane.
I was a Shawn Michaels fan, so that's a sad memory for me. I'm proud to add a happier memory in that building, even though Christopher Daniels also lost his smile.
I was getting loads of tweets from people saying that Shawn Michaels had talked about me on Chris Jericho's podcast and then I got to meet Shawn Michaels when I was over in Florida.
I'm out in the ring, Shawn Michaels turns to me and says, 'Hey, I got a couple of vertebrae out. Would you mind puttin 'em in with that chair?' He turns his back, I whack him and all of a sudden I'm a bad guy.
I lived, ate, breathed, slept Shawn Michaels. I wouldn't call it pro wrestling back in the day when I was a kid. I just called it Shawn Michaels.
I need to know you believe me when I say I love you. That is all." "I believe everything you say," Tessa said with a smile, her hands creeping doen from his waist to his weapons belt. Her fingers closed on the hilt of the dagger, and she yanked it from the belt, smiling as he looked down at her in surprise. "After all," she said, "you weren't lying about the tattoo of the dragon of Wales, were you?
I hear you guys all the time talking about Daniel Bryan, trained by Shawn Michaels. One curious thing to me is, how come you guys never mention William Regal? William Regal did the real work with this young man. Shawn Michaels took $3,000 from him, that's all he ever did.
I am graven on the palms of His hands. I am never out of His mind. All my knowledge of Him depends on His sustained initiative in knowing me. I know Him, because He first knew me, and continues to know me. He knows me as a friend, One who loves me; and there is no moment when His eye is off me, or His attention distracted for me, and no moment, therefore, when His care falters.
Triple H and Shawn Michaels and all those guys are more than happy to let me be myself. They want me to do my thing.
When I was a kid, I got to meet Shawn Michaels at the Continental Airlines Arena, and I showed Shawn that picture.
He loved me. He'd loved me as long as he he'd known me! I hadn't loved him as long perhaps, but now I loved him equally well, or better. I loved his laugh, his handwriting, his steady gaze, his honorableness, his freckles, his appreciation of my jokes, his hands, his determination that I should know the worst of him. And, most of all, shameful though it might be, I loved his love for me.
I hate to tell you, dragon, but that's an integral part of the whole usiness," he whispered. "If you're afraid to touch me then we're not going to get very far." She lifted her head to look at him. "I thought I could lie back and let you ravish me," she said with complete honesty. He shook his head, the smile hovering around his lips, his eyes intent. "This is a cooperative effort, my love. You have to do your part.
Shawn Michaels, to me and to so many people, is just the greatest in-ring performer of all time.
His black eyes sliced into me, and the corners of his mouth tilted up. My heart fumbled a bit and in that pause, a feeling of gloomy darkness seemed to slide like a shadow over me. It vanished in an instant but I was still staring at him. His smile wasn't friendly. It was a smile that spelled trouble. With a promise.
Then, his struggles stopped. His eyes stared at me, stunned, and his lips parted, almost into a smile, albeit a grisly and pained one. "That’s what I was supposed to say..." he gasped out. Those were his last words.
He turns toward me. I want to touch him, but I’m afraid of his bareness; afraid that he will make me bare too. ‘Is this scaring you, Tris?’ ‘No,’ I croak. I clear my throat. ‘Not really. I’m only…afraid of what I want.’ ‘What do you want?’ Then his face tightens. ‘Me?’ Slowly I nod.
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