Removing Dead Weight Quotes

#1. Where is the society which does not struggle along under a dead-weight of tradition and law inherited from its grandfather? #Quote by Suzanne La Follette

#2. There is an intense but simple thrill in setting off in the morning on a mountain trail, knowing that everything you need is on your back. It is a confidence in having left the inessentials behind and of entering a world of natural beauty that has not been violated, where money has no value, and possessions are a dead weight. The person with the fewest possessions is the freest. Thoreau was right. #Quote by Paul Theroux

#3. There are two types of people on planet Earth, Batman and Iron Man. Batman has a secret identity, right? So Bruce Wayne has to walk around every second of every day knowing that if somebody finds out his secret, his family is dead, his friends are dead, everyone he loves gets tortured to death by costumed supervillains. And he has to live with the weight of that secret every day. But not Tony Stark, he's open about who he is. He tells the world he's Iron Man, he doesn't give a shit. He doesn't have that shadow hanging over him, he doesn't have to spend energy building up those walls of lies around himself. You're one or the other - either you're one of those people who has to hide your real self because it would ruin you if it came out, because of your secret fetishes or addictions or crimes, or you're not one of those people. And the two groups aren't even living in the same universe. #Quote by David Wong

#4. So now I have sworn to bury All this dead body of hate I feel so free and so clear By the loss of that dead weight #Quote by Alfred Lord Tennyson

#5. Pedantry and bigotry are millstones, able to sink the best book which carries the least part of their dead weight. The temper of the pedagogue suits not with the age; and the world, however it may be taught, will not be tutored. #Quote by Anthony Ashley-Cooper, 7th Earl Of Shaftesbury

#6. She fit her head under his chin, and he could feel her weight settle into him. He held her tight and words spilled out of him without prior composition. And this time he made no effort to clamp them off. He told her about the first time he had looked on the back of her neck as she sat in the church pew. Of the feeling that had never let go of him since. He talked to her of the great waste of years between then and now. A long time gone. And it was pointless, he said, to think how those years could have been put to better use, for he could hardly have put them to worse. There was no recovering them now. You could grieve endlessly for the loss of time and the damage done therein. For the dead, and for your own lost self. But what the wisdom of the ages says is that we do well not to grieve on and on. And those old ones knew a thing or two and had some truth to tell, Inman said, for you can grieve your heart out and in the end you are still where you are. All your grief hasn't changed a thing. What you have lost will not be returned to you. It will always be lost. You're left with only your scars to mark the void. All you can choose to do is go on or not. But if you go on, it's knowing you carry your scars with you. Nevertheless, over all those wasted years, he had held in his mind the wish to kiss her on the back of her neck, and now he had done it. There was a redemption of some kind, he believed, in such complete fulfillment of a desire so long deferred. #Quote by Charles Frazier

#7. To the secular arm, therefore, be delivered any and every book which, catering for the youngsters, throttles the life of the old folktales with coils of explanatory notes, and heaps on their maimed corpses the dead weight of biographical appendices. Nevertheless, that which delighted our childhood may instruct our manhood; and notes, appendices, and all the gear of didactic exposition, have their place elsewhere in helping the student, anxious to reach the seed of fact which is covered by the pulp of fiction. For, to effect this is to make approach to man's thoughts and conceptions of himself and his surroundings, to his way of looking at things and to explanation of his conduct both in work and play. Hence the folk-tale and the game are alike pressed into the service of study of the human mind. Turn where we may, the pastimes of children are seen to mimic the serious pursuits of men. #Quote by Edward Clodd

#8. This is the list you carry in your pocket, of the things you plan to say to Kay, when you find him, if you find him:

1. I'm sorry that I forgot to water your ferns while you were away that time.
2. When you said that I reminded you of your mother, was that a good thing?
3. I never really liked your friends all that much.
4. None of my friends ever really liked you.
5. Do you remember when the cat ran away, and I cried and cried and made you put up posters, and she never came back? I wasn't crying because she didn't come back. I was crying because I'd taken her to the woods, and I was scared she'd come back and tell you what I'd done, but I guess a wolf got her, or something. She never liked me anyway.
6. I never liked your mother.
7. After you left, I didn't water your plants on purpose. They're all dead.
8. Goodbye.
9. Were you ever really in love with me?
10. Was I good in bed, or just average?
11. What exactly did you mean, when you said that it was fine that I had put on a little weight, that you thought I was even more beautiful, that I should go ahead and eat as much as I wanted, but when I weighed myself on the bathroom scale, I was exactly the same weight as before, I hadn't gained a single pound?
12. So all those times, I'm being honest here, every single time, and anyway I don't care if you don't believe me, I faked every orgasm you ever thought I had. Women can do that, you know. You never made me co #Quote by Kelly Link

#9. If you're unlucky enough not to have alcoholic parents, it takes you a whole lifetime of intoxication to overcome the dead weight of their virtues. #Quote by Emile M. Cioran

#10. Your kind of politics is dead. They are dead because any tinhorn with a loud mouth and a brassy front could gain power by appeal to mob psychology. And you haven't got mob psychology anymore. You can't have mob psychology when people don't give a damn what happens to a thing that's dead already - a political system that broke down under its own weight. #Quote by Clifford D. Simak

#11. Pulling his weight back off of her, he nodded over his shoulder. "Show me what's in the bedroom."
Though her body leapt in expectation, she tried to play it cool. "Oh, just a dresser, a TV, a dead stuffed deer, and, oh, yeah, a bed."
"Forget the deer. Show me how the bed works. #Quote by Erin McCarthy

#12. In the lassitude after love Odysseus asks Circe, "What is the way to the land of the dead?"

Circe answers, "You are muffled in folds of heavy fabric. You close your eyes against the rough cloth and though you struggle to free yourself you can barely move. With much thrashing and writhing, you manage to throw off another layer, but find that not only is there another one beyond it, but that the weight bearing you down has scarcely decreased. With dauntless spirit you continue to struggle. By infinitesimal degrees, the load becomes lighter and your confinement less. At last, you push away a piece of coarse, heavy cloth and, relieved, feel that it was the last one. As it falls away, you realize you have been fighting through years. You open your eyes. #Quote by Zachary Mason

#13. The question is not at present, however, of removing mountains, a thing that will one day be simple to us, but of waking and rising from the dead now. #Quote by George MacDonald

#14. Last night, I killed a man. If I had to, I'd do it all over again. Afterwards I slept like a baby. There's a surprising amount of physical exertion in murder - they don't call it a dead weight for nothing. #Quote by A.E. Rawson

#15. She may hear this story, someday, and wonder what it has to do with her. A girl hiding her scared in her prettiness, an unwanted baby, a dead mother. These are not her heartbreaks. Every heart is fractured differently and she knows the pattern of her cracks, she traces them like lines across her palm. She has a living mother and besides, she was always wanted. Prayed for, even. Now she's grown, or at least she thinks she is. But she hasn't yet learned from the mathematics of grief. The weight of what has been lost is always heavier than what remains. She's heard her granddaddy preach about the good shepherd who leaves the ninety-nine behind in search of the one lost sheep.
But what about the flock he abandons? she wonders. Aren't they lost now too? #Quote by Brit Bennett

#16. And yet death was not something you could ignore. It had its weight. It was a dead man lying upstairs, not a man who was sick. It seemed to her she had better not form the practice of ignoring death. If she tried it, death would find a way to answer back - it would take another of her loved ones, to remind her to respect it. #Quote by Larry McMurtry

#17. Aelin ran for Manon, leaping over the fallen stones, her ankle wrenching on loose debris.
The island rocked with her every step, and the sunlight was scalding, as if Mala were holding that island aloft with every last bit of strength the goddess could summon in this land.
Then Aelin was upon Manon Blackbeak, and the witch lifted hate-filled eyes to her. Aelin hauled off stone after stone from her body, the island beneath them buckling.
"You're too good a fighter to kill," Aelin breathed, hooking an arm under Manon's shoulders and hauling her up. The rock swayed to the left-but held. Oh, gods. "If I die because of you, I'll beat the shit out of you in hell."
She could have sworn the witch let out a broken laugh as she got to her feet, nearly dead weight in Aelin's arms. #Quote by Sarah J. Maas

#18. But he would see clearer, breathe freer in her presence: she was at once the dead weight at his breast and the spar which should float them to safety. #Quote by Edith Wharton

#19. The reason they invented coffins, to lock the dead in, preserve them, they put makeup on them; they didn't want them spreading or changing into anything else. The stone with the name and date was on them to weight them down. #Quote by Margaret Atwood

#20. At every crossway on the path that leads to the future, each progressive spirit is opposed by a thousand men appointed to guard the past. Let us have no fear that the fair towers of former days be sufficiently defended. The least that the most timid among us can do is not to add to the immense dead weight that nature drags along. #Quote by Maurice Maeterlinck

#21. Some people will tell you that they make, or have made, sacrifices for you, but don't buy it. The truth is simple: everything they ever did was for themselves, and what they did had little bearing on what was best for you. You were just along for the ride. You were just furniture, luggage, window dressing, dead weight to them. At least it's a good thing that you're hip to it now. #Quote by Steffan Piper

#22. For a trial is initiated not to render justice but to annihilate the defendant.
Even when the trial is of dead people, the point is to kill them off a second time: by burning their books; by removing their names from the schoolbooks; by demolishing their monuments; by rechristening the streets that bore their names. #Quote by Milan Kundera

#23. Such seem'd this Man, not all alive nor dead, Nor all asleep; in his extreme old age: His body was bent double, feet and head Coming together in their pilgrimage; As if some dire constraint of pain, or rage Of sickness felt by him in times long past, A more than human weight upon his frame had cast. #Quote by William Wordsworth

#24. Top Dog"

If I could, I would take your grief, dig it up
out of the horseradish field and grate it into something red and hot
to sauce the shellfish. I would take the lock of hair you put in the locket and carry it in my hand, I would make the light strike everything
the way it hit the Bay Bridge, turning the ironwork at sunset into waffles.
If I could, I would blow your socks off, they would travel far, always in unison,
past the dead men running, past the cranes standing in snow,
beyond the roads we rode, so small in our little car, it was like riding in a miner's helmet. If I could I would make everyone vote and call their public servants to say, "No one was meant for this."
I would go back to the afternoon we made love in the tall grass under the full sun not far from the ravine where the old owner had flung hundreds of mink cages.
I would memorize gateways to the afterworld, the electric third rail,
the blond braid our girl has hanging down her back,
the black guppy we killed at our friends' when we unplugged the bubbler and the fish floated to the top, one eye up at the ceiling, the other
at the blue gravel on the bottom of the tank.
I would beg an audience with Sister Lucia, the last living of the children
visited by Our Lady of Fatima, I would ask her about the weight of secrets, if they let her sleep or if she woke at night with a body on her body,
if the body said, "Let's play top dog, f #Quote by Barbara Ras

#25. Inching into the room, it's clear something is wrong here. There's a tingling sensation up my legs and back before I can even really focus on the parlor's details. There are silhouettes of people, but I can see through them. It's like shadows were cast and left behind to do as they please. Lost in the surreal sight of them for a moment, I inch further into the room without noticing that some were now moving behind me.

There is no warning. I'm suddenly in the air, and moving backward rapidly toward the wall. It's almost a full second before my body registers the actual pain of the blow my stomach just took. Being hit by a car doesn't even compare to this, and I didn't even see it coming.

"For a shadow, you hit like a sledgehammer!" The words barely escape before something else slams into the base of my skull embedding most of my upper body in the wall and all but removing my head. These things are like Lucy; the disembodied dead who haven't moved on. I've never met others that can actually touch things physically, they must be fairly potent.

I pull my face out of the hole it had been planted in, letting plaster dust fall, coating my chest and legs like snow. Looking around quickly I try to gauge my surroundings. I can't see them, but I know they're there. Is one easy night, without a huge dry-cleaning bill, too much to ask for these days?

I only have time to dwell on it a moment before my head is bouncing off the hardwood floor; once #Quote by Dennis Sharpe

#26. Is something wrong?" he asked.

"You seem to have forgotten that someone cut my bike in half."

"And you seem to have forgotten that I have a truck," said Miles. "I can give you a ride. To school, at least."

"No thanks," I said.

"Really. I'm not joking. Unless you're that against having anything to do with me. I don't care. You can get in line."

He turned onto the main road. The line from the notebook felt like a dead weight in my stomach.

"No, not against it." I realized with a strange sort of happy dread that we were falling back into the easy conversation we'd had at the bonfire. "But I'd like to know why you're offering."

"What do you mean?" Honest confusion crossed his face. "Isn't that the good thing to do?"

I burst out laughing. "Since when have you been good? Are you feeling guilty or something?"

"A little sentimental, maybe. My first idea was to drive up and down in front of you a few times to prove I had a car and you didn't." His tone was light and he was smiling.

Holy crap, he was smiling. A real, teeth-showing, nose-scrunching, eyes-crinkling smile.

The smile slipped off his face. "What? What's wrong?"

"You were smiling," I said. "It was kind of weird."

"Oh," he said, frowning. "Thanks."

"No, no, don't do that! The smile was better." The words felt wrong coming out of my mouth. I shouldn't say things like that to #Quote by Francesca Zappia

#27. This was it, the big moment: the corpse of his chief enemy, the ruins of his creator, the body of his dead father; the great weight of all that was unsaid and would never have been said; the pressure to say it now, when there was nobody to hear, and to speak also on his father's behalf, in an act of self-division that might fissure the world and turn his body into a jigsaw puzzle. This was it. #Quote by Edward St. Aubyn

#28. I enjoy a torture session on the rowing machine and I also enjoy my mom's homemade peach cobbler. I enjoy flopping like that dead fish with hips that can't lie in dance class, and I also enjoy ordering pizza with my kid, renting a movie, and downing popcorn while we share some special time together. I enjoy seeing how much I can lift at the gym and I also enjoy stuffing a fresh chewy chocolate chip cookie into my face when I'm having a hard day. #Quote by Dan Pearce

#29. She [Jo] recalled them holding one another and feeling a terrible numbness where caring should have been. She'd blamed it on the circumstances, the weight of what each of them carried that night, the responsibilities. But it wasn't that. They were holding something dying, maybe already dead, but they were too scared to admit it.
She wondered why the tragedy at Burke's Landing hadn't brought them together. Adversity was supposed to do that, wasn't it? Instead, everything got worse. Cork wasn't just distant. Something in him seemed to have died along with the other deaths that drizzly morning. Nothing mattered. #Quote by William Kent Krueger

#30. So what's your story?" Maddie didn't try to hide the singsong lilt of her voice as she spoke. She didn't want to. She'd learned at a very young age that nothing annoyed manly men more than girly girls, and if Maddie had one talent, it was truly exceptional girliness.
"Shut up and be quiet," Stefan snapped.
"That's just a tad redundant, FYI."
"Shut up!" he hissed near her ear.
Maddie couldn't help but shift her weight from foot to foot, almost pacing in place. She was careful of the ice and the snow, though. No use falling to the ground and having Stefan accidentally pull the trigger.
"You really do give a lot of orders," she told him.
He tightened his grip. "I'm the one with the gun."
"Well, yeah. Sure. Technically. But I'm the one with the winning personality, and that should count for something."
"You should be scared," he said in the same tone a movie villain might use to say You should be dead when the hero materializes five years later, hungry for vengeance.
Stefan was confused, and Maddie couldn't blame him.
So she turned back and shrugged. "Maybe. But I don't think you're a bad guy."
He let her go and spun her around, grabbing Logan's unzipped coat and pulling her closer.
"I. Have. The. Gun," he reminded her.
Maddie smiled and pulled away. "And I have Taylor Swift's signature scent. Doesn't make me a pop star. It just makes me smell like Taylor Swift, which isn't as great as it sounds because, to a bear, #Quote by Ally Carter

#31. He saw a picture in his mind of a terrible piling up of the dead. It came from his contemplation of the church, but it had its own clarity: the row on row, the deep rotting earth hollowed out to hold them, while the efforts of the living, with all their works and wars and great buildings, were no more than the beat of a wing against the weight of time. #Quote by Sebastian Faulks

#32. History is full of the dead weight of things which have escaped the control of the mind, yet drive man on with a blind force. #Quote by F. M. Powicke

#33. You know me. Guys like me come a dime a dozen. No fire. No backbone. Dead weight waiting to be pulled around and taken to places where we want to go but can't go alone. Because we're afraid to go alone. Because we're afraid to be alone. Because we can't face people and we can't talk to people. Because we don't know how. Because we can't handle life and don't know the first thing about taking a bite out of life. Because we're afraid and we don't know what we're afraid of and still we're afraid. Guys like me. #Quote by David Goodis

#34. It felt good to scrub my skin, as if I was removing everything that felt dead about me. I was the "queen of skin care." Who knew that simply exfoliating my skin until raw (which I knew better than to do but now couldn't resist) would one day be what was left of my skin care regimen? My daily cleansing and moisturizing, weekly hydrating and purifying masks, along with monthly photo facials, glycolic peels, or microdermabrasion, was down to "super-scrub Saturdays." Pampering was a thing of the past. No more sunscreen applications to guard against the "UVAging" rays that were out to get me 365 days a year. No more weekly Epsom salts hot baths to detox my body, or lathering up with my favorite vanilla-scented moisturizing cream. No more applications of extra virgin olive oil to the ends of my hair to prevent splitting. I didn't even treat myself to my bedtime chamomile tea. All that had been replaced by a new nightly ritual of passing out on the bed, face down, which went against my cardinal rule of youth maintenance. Before the deep hollow pain was born inside me, I slept on my back, at the perfect thirty-degree angle to ensure proper circulation and prevention of any unnecessary creasing or wrinkling. #Quote by Cari Kamm

#35. His long wait is almost done. I am sending Balon Swann to Sunspear, to deliver him the head of Gregor Clegane." Ser Balon would have another task as well, but that part was best left unsaid.
"Ah." Ser Harys Swyft fumbled at his funny little beard with thumb and forefinger. "He is dead then? Ser Gregor?"
"I would think so, my lord," Aurane Waters said dryly. "I am told that removing the head from the body is often mortal. #Quote by George R R Martin

#36. The prevalent custom of educating young women only for marriage, and not for the duties and responsibilities consequent on marriage
only for appendages and dead weights to husbands
of bringing them up without an occupation, profession, or employment, and thus leaving them dependent on anyone but themselves
is an enormous evil, and an unpardonable sin. #Quote by Harriot Kezia Hunt

#37. Anyone walking by would think we were drunk. Is that what this is? It's chemistry, I know that for sure, something numbing and piercing at once, something that makes me feel like I'm alive for the first time and dead in other ways--murdered memories of what anyone else felt like before this man. Murdered memories of what it felt like to be over a hundred miles away. I know the weight of his hands and body, how he tastes just like me after only two deep kisses, the way his laugh turns into moans, and how he watches my hands when I touch him. #Quote by Christina Lauren

#38. You are a spirit, bearing the weight of a dead body, as Epictetus used to say. #Quote by Marcus Aurelius

#39. One soldier picked up a dead Argentine, supported the corpse's weight underneath his arm, put a cigarette in the dead man's mouth, then one in his own. He then held a lighter under the corpse's cigarette and his friend took a photograph. They both laughed. I also laughed.
This was foolish ― smoking can kill. #Quote by Ken Lukowiak

#40. The welfare state has bred a generation of obnoxious, drug-addled criminals and ne'er-do-wells. It has also, incidentally, burdened what was once the world's biggest, most dynamic economy with the dead weight of an obstructive and vastly expensive state machine. #Quote by Martin Durkin

#41. Nothing has been accomplished. By casting away their responsibility they may feel comfortable with themselves, but they have ceased to solve the problems of living, have ceased to grow spiritually, and have become dead weight for society.

M. Scott Peck. The Road Less Traveled (Kindle Locations 499-501). #Quote by M. Scott Peck

#42. He judges the present time in virtue of a meta-historical fact, and the incursion of this event into the present is the only force capable of throwing off the dead weight of social and political institutions which are gradually crushing the life out of our present civilization. #Quote by Jacques Ellul

#43. A hundred-eighty pounds of dead weight - all muscle - to #Quote by J.D. Robb

#44. The secret of meditation is the art of unlearning. Mind is learning; meditation is unlearning: that is - die constantly to your experience; let it not imprison you; experience becomes a dead weight in the living and flowing, riverlike consciousness. #Quote by Rajneesh

#45. How can she who had torn his heart open at the waterworks with her art lie now like a human in his arms? Or stand catatonic in front of bananas on Eastern Avenue deciding which bunch to buy? Does this make her more magical? As if a fabulous heron in flight has fallen dead at his feet and he sees the further wonder of its meticulous construction. How did someone conceive of putting this structure of bones and feathers together, deciding on the weight of beak and skull, and give it the ability to fly? #Quote by Michael Ondaatje

#46. I will go where I will go
And I will jettison all dead weight
And I will use these words for kindling
And I will sleep by the garden gate. #Quote by John Darnielle

#47. Where do I belong?"
"With me," my mother and Galen say in unison. They exchange hard glares. Galen locks his jaw.
"I'm her mother," she tells Galen, her voice sharp. "Her place is with me."
"I want her for my mate," Galen says. The admission warms up the space between us with an impossible heat and I want to melt into him. His words, his declaration, cannot be unspoken. And how he's declared it to everyone who matters. It's out there in the open, hanging in the air. He wants me for his mate. Me. Him. Forever. And I'm not sure how I feel about that. How I should feel about that.
I've known for some time that he wanted that eventually, but how soon? Before we graduate? Before I go to college? What does it mean to mate with him? He's a Triton prince. His place is with the Syrena, in the ocean. And let's not forget that my place with them is dead-no Half-Breeds allowed. We have so much to talk about before this can even happen, but I feel saying so might make him feel rejected, or embarrass him in front of his older brother, the great Triton king. Or like I'm having second thoughts, and I'm not. Not exactly.
I peer up at him, wanting to see his eyes, to see the promise in them that I heard in his voice.
But he won't look at me. He's not looking at Mom, either. He keeps his iron glare on Grom, unyielding and demanding. But Grom doesn't wither under the weight of it. In fact, he deflects it with an indifferent expression. They are definitely engaging i #Quote by Anna Banks

#48. I shall have a great advantage over you, Mr. Gerry. When we are all hung for what we are now doing. From the size and weight of my body I shall die in a few minutes, but from the lightness of your body you will dance in the air an hour or two before you are dead. #Quote by Benjamin Harrison