Red Sonja Quotes

#1. If I am to die tonight, let me die a fighter. #Quote by Gail Simone

#2. If I can sell tickets to my movies like Red Sonja or Last Action Hero, you know I can sell just about anything. #Quote by Arnold Schwarzenegger

#3. She had red hair and green eyes and a figure that makes you inhale between clenched teeth the instant you lay eyes on her. #Quote by Emile C. Tepperman

#4. When people ask me if Dean Martin drank, let me put it this way. If Dracula bit Dean in the neck, he'd get a Bloody Mary. #Quote by Red Buttons

#5. When in doubt, just read something written by someone crazier than you are. Pretty much always makes me feel better." -Jill #Quote by Lynn Red

#6. For millions of years flowers have been producing thorns. For millions of years sheep have been eating them all the same. And it's not serious, trying to understand why flowers go to such trouble to produce thorns that are good for nothing? It's not important, the war between the sheep and the flowers? It's no more serious and more important than the numbers that fat red gentleman is adding up? Suppose I happen to know a unique flower, one that exists nowhere in the world except on my planet, one that a little sheep can wipe out in a single bite one morning, just like that, without even realizing what he'd doing - that isn't important? If someone loves a flower of which just one example exists among all the millions and millions of stars, that's enough to make him happy when he looks at the stars. He tells himself 'My flower's up there somewhere ... ' But if the sheep eats the flower, then for him it's as if, suddenly, all the stars went out. And that isn't important? #Quote by Antoine De Saint Exupery

#7. Two hours ago I took a break from writing this to take a walk before the sun went down. I had an urge to play Willie Nelson's "Crazy" on the Red Hot Country CD before going out, but didn't. When I turned the bend on 49th Terrace, my usual walk, Crazy sung by Patsy Cline was pouring, I mean POURING, out the windows of a house. I leaned back against a fence across the street and watched the house lift off. An operatic, cinematic moment, everything locked into a single frame that gets you high. Like You I'm Trapped. #Quote by Chris Kraus

#8. If the next car passed is blue, Violet will be okay, she thought. If it's red, A will do something horrible to her.
She heard a growl of an engine and shut her eyes, afraid to see what the future might hold. She'd never cared so much about anything in her life. Just as the car was passing, she opened her eyes and saw a Mercedes hood ornament. She let out a long sigh, tears coming to her eyes once more.
The car was blue. #Quote by Sara Shepard

#9. The red tongues that went licking up my heap of wood were an altogether new and strange thing to Weena. #Quote by H.G.Wells

#10. Some feeling had started in my stomach and was traveling up to my face, and I knew that when it got there I would turn bright red and hear the ocean, which is what happens when I get put on the spot. If I don't cry, I turn red and hear the ocean. It's a lose-lose situation. #Quote by Rebecca Stead

#11. But no one else cared that Professor Lupin's robes were patched and frayed. His next few lessons were just as interesting as the first. After boggarts, they studied Red Caps, nasty little goblinlike creatures that lurked wherever there had been bloodshed: in the dungeons of castles and the potholes of deserted battlefields, waiting to bludgeon those who had gotten lost. From Red Caps they moved on to kappas, creepy water-dwellers that looked like scaly monkeys, with webbed hands itching to strangle unwitting waders in their ponds. #Quote by J.K. Rowling

#12. In the landscape of my native land,
a stranger in my own fields,
--I had a homeland where the Duero
flows between gray cliffs
and the ghosts of ancient oaks,
there in Castile, mystic and warlike,
graceful Castile, humble and boastful,
Castile of arrogance and power,
in the fields of Andalusia
where I was born, I long to sing!
My childhood memories are here,
images of palm trees and sun
against a golden brilliance,
distant bell towers with storks,
city streets without women
under an indigo sky, deserted swuares
where blazing orange trees ripen
with round vermillon fruit,
and in a shady garden, the dusty branches
of a lemon tree, pale yellow lemons
reflected in the clear water of the fountains.
The scent of lilies and carnations,
pungent odor of basil and mint.
images of gloomy olive groves
under a torrid sun that blinds and dazes,
winding blue mountain ranges
under the red glow of an immense afternoon;
but if the thread that links memory to the heart
is missing, the anchor to the shore,
these memories are soulless.
In their ragged dress,
they are remnants of memory,
castoffs the mind drags along.
One day, anointed with light from below,
our virginal bodies will return to their ancient shore. #Quote by Antonio Machado

#13. What is a war criminal? Was not war itself a crime against God and humanity, and, therefore, were not all those who sanctioned, engineered, and conducted wars, war criminals? War criminals are not confined to the Axis Powers alone. Roosevelt and Churchill are no less war criminals than Hitler and Mussolini. England, America and Russia have all of them got their hands dyed more or less red - not merely Germany and Japan. #Quote by Mahatma Gandhi

#14. My sister, Fern. In the whole wide world, my only red poker chip. #Quote by Karen Joy Fowler

#15. Red carpets are pretty unpredictable. You can go from one person asking you what you're wearing to the next person asking you about the situation in Haiti. It's the extreme juxtaposition, and some of the questions can throw me! #Quote by Keith Urban

#16. Her hair was copper-red, like the grass of the shore on which the spring floods leave their rust; but her eyes were dark, like the pools among the marshes, drawing the beholder down into their depths, and their surface was still as bog-water. #Quote by Aino Kallas

#17. Down through this verdant land Carter walked at evening, and saw twilight float up from the river to the marvelous golden spires of Thran. And just at the hour of dusk he came to the southern gate, and was stopped by a red-robed sentry till he had told three dreams beyond belief, and proved himself a dreamer worthy to walk up Thran's steep mysterious streets and linger in the bazaars where the wares of the ornate galleons were sold. Then into that incredible city he walked; through a wall so thick that the gate was a tunnel, and thereafter amidst curved and undulant ways winding deep and narrow between the heavenward towers. Lights shone through grated and balconied windows, and, the sound of lutes and pipes stole timid from inner courts where marble fountains bubbled. Carter knew his way, and edged down through darker streets to the river, where at an old sea tavern he found the captains and seamen he had known in myriad other dreams. There he bought his passage to Celephais on a great green galleon, and there he stopped for the night after speaking gravely to the venerable cat of that inn, who blinked dozing before an enormous hearth and dreamed of old wars and forgotten gods. #Quote by H.P. Lovecraft

#18. Yearning is a red-haired girl sitting on the hood of her silver sedan, reading about Marilyn Monroe. A cherry orchard at night, houselights in the distance. It's the painstaking neatness of a paint-by-number sunset, a yellowed letter held between graceful fingers, a cautious step into the sun-filled lobby of a famous hotel.
It's the way I feel every time I think about Ava. #Quote by Nina LaCour

#19. Nothing makes you forget everything as getting drunk of red wine. #Quote by M.F. Moonzajer

#20. I shouldn't have let myself, because I was going to have to go back out there, and I'd have a swollen, red nose and pink eyes and everyone would know - but I couldn't stop. It was like they were choking me, my tears. I had to gasp to breathe around them. My head was full of Jack sitting at the table, being a jerk, the sound of my father's voice talking about the sharpshooters in helicopters, the idea that Grace had nearly died without me even knowing it, stupid boys throwing stuff into my shirt, which was probably cut too low for a family dinner anyway, Cole looking down at me on the bed, and the thing that had set me off, Sam's honest, broken text about Grace.

Jack was gone, my father always got what he wanted, I wanted and hated Cole St. Clair, and no one, no one would ever feel that way about me, the way that Sam felt about Grace when he sent that text. #Quote by Maggie Stiefvater

#21. This, however, seems to be certain: the ichor, that is, the material I have mentioned that finally becomes red, exists before the heart begins to beat, but the heart exists and even beats before the blood reddens. #Quote by Marcello Malpighi

#22. Two days before we were "banished" from the town my father came to see me. He sat down and in a leisurely way, without looking at me, wiped his red face, then took out of his pocket our town Messenger, and deliberately, with emphasis on each word, read out the news that the son of the branch manager of the State Bank, a young man of my age, had been appointed head of a Department in the Exchequer.

"And now look at you," he said, folding up the newspaper, "a beggar, in rags, good for nothing! Even working-class people and peasants obtain education in order to become men, while you, a Poloznev, with ancestors of rank and distinction, aspire to the gutter! But I have not come here to talk to you; I have washed my hands of you --" he added in a stifled voice, getting up. "I have come to find out where your sister is, you worthless fellow. She left home after dinner, and here it is nearly eight and she is not back. She has taken to going out frequently without telling me; she is less dutiful -- and I see in it your evil and degrading influence. Where is she?"

In his hand he had the umbrella I knew so well, and I was already flustered and drew myself up like a schoolboy, expecting my father to begin hitting me with it, but he noticed my glance at the umbrella and most likely that restrained him.

"Live as you please!" he said. "I shall not give you my blessing! #Quote by Anton Chekhov

#23. The past wasn't a guest you could ask to leave when you tired of its company. No, the past put up its feet and meant to stay. #Quote by Sonja Yoerg

#24. I can only tell where I feel most at home, which is in the erosional landscape of the red rock desert of southern Utah, where the Colorado River cuts through sandstone and the geologic history of the Earth is exposed: our home in Castle Valley. #Quote by Terry Tempest Williams

#25. Fenway is the essence of baseball #Quote by Tom Seaver

#26. Which is the world? Of our two sleepings, which / Shall fall awake when cures and their itch / Raise up this red-eyed earth? #Quote by Dylan Thomas

#27. As I walked away, I heard the girl ask, "Is she your girlfriend?"
I whirled around, and we both said "No!" at the same time.
Confused, she said, "Well, is she your little sister?" like I wasn't standing right there. Her perfume was heavy. It felt like it filled all the air around us, like we were breathing her in.
"No, I'm not his little sister." I hated this girl for being a witness to all this. It was humiliating. And she was pretty, in the same kind of way Taylor was pretty, which somehow made things worse.
Conrad said, "Her mom is best friends with my mom." So that was all I was to him? His mom's friend's daughter?
I took a deep breath, and without even thinking, I said to the girl, "I've known Conrad my whole life. So let me be the one to tell you you're barking up the wrong tree. Conrad will never love anyone as much as he loves himself, if you know what I mean-" I lifted up my hand and wiggled my fingers.
"Shut up, Belly," Conrad warned. The tops of his ears were turning bright red. It was a low blow, but I didn't care. He deserved it.
Red Sox girl frowned. "What is she talking about, Conrad?"
To her I blurted out, "Oh, I'm sorry, do you not know what the idiom 'barking up the wrong tree' means?"
Her pretty face twisted. "You little skank," she hissed.
I could feel myself shrinking. I wished I could take it back. I'd never gotten into a fight with a girl before, or with anyone for that matter.
Thankfully, Conrad #Quote by Jenny Han

#28. The deeper the Whites moved into the steppe, the more they resorted to terror against a hostile population. Their Ice March left a trail of blood. It was perhaps unavoidable, given the Volunteers' desperate need for food and the reluctance of the peasants to give it to them. The Whites were stranded in a Red peasant sea. But there was also an element of sheer class war and revenge in their violence, as in so many acts of the White Terror, which was a mirror image of the class resentment and hatred that drove the Red Terror. Terror lay at the heart of both regimes. #Quote by Orlando Figes

#29. I didn't tell him, I never told him. Not in a way that he believed. Not in a way that he could let in and hold on to. Everything he was to me. That he was everything.
Simon, Simon . . .
You were the sun, and I was crashing into you.
I'd wake up every morning and tell myself . . .
I'd tell myself . . .
"You live in fear! In denial!"
Simon is on the ground. His wing is bent the wrong way. His blood is red and abundant. It smells like brown butter. His hair is a mess, his face is in the sand. He doesn't know how much I love him. He's never really heard it.
I'd wake up every morning and tell myself . . .
"Simon . . . love . . . get up. We still have to save Agatha."
Simon is on the ground.
This will end in flames. #Quote by Rainbow Rowell

#30. The red library is Sui's tribute to fashion maven Diana Vreeland, who served as editor for Harper's Bazaar (1939-1962) and Vogue (1963-1961). My most precious collection is my bound Vogue magazines, .. and they're kind of like my Bible. I look at them all the time when I'm trying to inspire myself for a collection. #Quote by Anna Sui

#31. She was full of sultry grace
With her heavy, red lips and her soft, dark curls. #Quote by Sheila Kohler

#32. He got off on Lincoln and slavery and dared any man there to deny that Lincoln and the negro and Moses and the children of Israel were the same, and that the Red Sea was just the blood that had to be spilled in order that the black race might cross into the Promised Land. #Quote by William Faulkner

#33. The Sorrow of Love
W. B. Yeats, 1865 - 1939

The quarrel of the sparrows in the eaves,
The full round moon and the star-laden sky,
And the loud song of the ever-singing leaves,
Had hid away earth's old and weary cry.

And then you came with those red mournful lips,
And with you came the whole of the world's tears,
And all the sorrows of her labouring ships,
And all the burden of her myriad years.

And now the sparrows warring in the eaves,
The curd-pale moon, the white stars in the sky,
And the loud chaunting of the unquiet leaves
Are shaken with earth's old and weary cry. #Quote by W.B.Yeats

#34. The wife sits in the backyard with binoculars. She is trying to learn about the birds. She has seen robins and sparrows and wrens. A green-throated hummingbird. She wants to know the name of the black bird with the red wings. She looks it up. It is a red-winged blackbird. #Quote by Jenny Offill

#35. I remember once seeing a guy in the grocery store who looked so much like my character the Archangel Gabriel, I wanted to go up to him and say, 'Hey, put that Red Bull down. You've already got wings.' My friend had to sternly remind me that he was a stranger and I did not, in fact, create him. #Quote by Alexandra Adornetto

#36. Of course, there are white beets, beets that ooze sugar water instead of blood, but it is the red beet with which we are concerned; the variety that blushes and swells like a hemorrhoid, a hemorrhoid for which there is no cure. (Actually, there is one remedy: commission a potter to make you a ceramic asshole - and when you aren't sitting on it, you can use it as a bowl for borscht.) #Quote by Tom Robbins

#37. When they return home from serving our country, our National Guard and Reserve members shouldn't have to be confronted with red tape in order to access the benefits they've earned fighting for our country. #Quote by Kirsten Gillibrand

#38. No severe or prolonged bodily illness followed this incident of the red-room: it only gave my nerves a shock, of which I feel the reverberation to this day. #Quote by Charlotte Bronte

#39. I hate the color red almost as much as i hate blond hair,he said with an amused tone.
-Dank #Quote by Abbi Glines

#40. Every year, thousands of Californians flee that populous paradise for tax-eased small government oasis of America's red states. #Quote by Allen West