You might be a redneck if your mother has been involved in a fist fight at a high school sports event.
Well this is just a fist. But when I start throwing it around I can leave one hell of a mess.
A child of three cannot raise its chubby fist to its mouth to remove a piece of carpet which it is through eating, without being made the subject of a psychological seminar of child-welfare experts, and written up, along with five hundred other children of three who have put their hands to their mouths for the same reason.
The art of invective resembles the art of boxing. Very few fights are won with the straight left. It is too obvious, and it can betoo easily countered. The best punches, like the best pieces of invective in this style, are either short-arm jabs, unexpectedly rapid and deadly; or else one-two blows, where you prepare your opponent with the first hit, and then, as his face comes forward, connect with your other fist: one, two. Both are effective; but they can be administered only by a real artist, with a real wish to knock his enemy out.
When a woman puts up her fists to a man she is putting herself in the only posture in which he is not afraid of her.
I'm glad I was raised by my dad for other reasons, too. There are things you can learn from a father, as a son, that you can never learn from Mom. Special things, important things. Like "never challenge Dad to a fist fight.
What we used to settle with common sense or a fist, we settle with hand sanitizer and lawyers.
In Canada you can still settle things with your fists. If there's a fight in a bar, no one goes to jail.
The most dangerous action a woman can take when faced with a criminal is to resist with her fists: That tends to annoy violent criminals, and the woman will very likely be seriously injured. But a woman who takes the advice of Handgun Control Inc. and passively submits is 2.5 times more likely to be injured than a woman who resists with a gun. So if you don't want to lie back and enjoy it, get a gun. Otherwise you may never become a mom.
I don't know if I would go so far to say that I would punch someone in the face, but I would definitely stand up for my lady. But sometimes it's more attractive to use your words than your fists.
When you denigrate people, they have two ways to fight back - with their fists and guns, or their mouths. And mouths are seemingly the easiest way to not get hit back. If people are laughing, they're not going to hit you.
What a sense of possession, of confidence, it gave one to have pockets, to shove one's fists into them, as if in simply owning pockets one owned riches, owned independence.
An ant can't make a revolution, but a monkey can do; because it owns a fist! No real revolution is ever possible without fist.
People like rumors. They're going to say things like, 'You was at the club with Lil' Kim, and you and Kanye West got into a fist fight.' You can't get upset. You've got to keep hope alive.
As a professional athlete, I can tell you I feel every single emotion and not one of them ever helped me in a fist-fight before. And not one of them has ever hurt me in a fist-fight, either. The only thing that has helped me is my skills and the only thing that hurt me is my opponent's skills.
Bullying can be physical, verbal or emotional. Words and threats are just as painful as fists, especially with social media these days. For those of you who don't know, I was actually bullied as a young boy on one occasion.
People with clenched fists can not shake hands.
For a second we just stand there in silence. Then, suddenly, Alex is back, easy and smiling again. “I left a note for you one time. In the Governor’s fist, you know?” I left a note for you one time. It’s impossible, too crazy to think about, and I hear myself repeating, “You left a note for me?” “I’m pretty sure it said something stupid. Just hi, and a smiley face, and my name. But then you stopped coming.” He shrugs. “It’s probably still there. The note, I mean. Probably just a bit of paper pulp by now.
the last cigarettes are smoked, the loaves are sliced, and lest this be taken for wry sorrow, drown the spider in wine. you are much more than simply dead: I am a dish for your ashes, I am a fist for your vanished air. the most terrible thing about life is finding it gone.
In 1971, after seven years in college, with that magic piece of paper clutched triumphantly in my fist, the best job I was able to get was night watchman on a sewer project in Babylon, N.Y. guarding a hole in the ground to prevent anyone from stealing it. God bless the American educational system!
The punch connected, but (1) Colin forgot to close his fist, so he was slapping not hitting, and (2) instead of slapping TOC, he ended up slapping Hassan flush across the cheek, whereupon Hassan finally succeeded in falling down.
I'm on my feet, pacing around the room, punching a fist into my palm, which I stop doing when I realise how drama queen it feels.
I swing my arms to loosen myself up. Place my fists on my hips. then drop them to my sides. Saliva's filling my mouth at a ridiculous rate and i feel vomit at the back of my throat. I swallow hard and open my lips so I can get the stupid line out and go hide in the woods and-that's when i start crying.
What have you done?' he said, his voice hollow and strained. He stepped back and put his fists to his temples. 'What have you done!' With an effort, Eragon said, 'Made you understand.
Like is an emotion. Emotions”—he raised a hand, made a fist, clenched it tightly—“are like holding water. You open your hand, there’s nothing there. Better to be a weapon than a woman.
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