Don T Mess With The Witcher Quotes

Shut up, you brat," interrupted Geralt, smiling nastily "Halt your uncontrolled little tongue. You speak to a lady who deserves respect, especially from a Knight of the White Rose ... ~ Andrzej Sapkowski

Sir Falwick," said Geralt, not ceasing to smile. "If he draws his sword, I'll take it from him and beat the snotty-nosed little brat's arse with the flat of his blade. And then I'll batter the door down with him. ~ Andrzej Sapkowski

And Jazz snapped.
He didn't snap the way a normal person might snap. A normal person would fling his arms around and stomp his feet and rant at the top of his lungs, bellowing to the sky. There might be tears, from a normal person.
Jazz went quiet. He darted out one hand and grabbed the wrist of the paramedic who had been trying to cuff him and pulled the man close, holding his gaze.
In a moment, he channeled every last drop of (his father).
Who am I? I'll tell you. I'm the local psychopath, and if you don't save my best friend's life, I will hunt down everyone you've ever cared about in your life and make you watch while I do things to them that will have you begging me to kill them. That's who I am. ~ Barry Lyga

As at this the month last year my life was a mess i lost everything my wife, my job, my house and even my kids it was really bad that i had to go live with my father. First, i lost my job as a result of covering the bad things my best friend committed and there after everything fell to pieces. My family fell apart i fought with my wife always over every little thing i remember we fought over the fact that my credit card was declined a the shopping mall she was well aware of our situation, that is how i lost my job and all that. I think what made her most mad at me, was that i lost my job because i was protecting my friend. Then i started defaulting on my mortgage payment i could not pay up, i could not pay my bills every responsibility in my house was on my wife. She could not do it all alone she need me to be the man of the house and i failed her and my kids. I was ashamed to call myself a man. Then the worst happened, the bank took my house and my family were thrown out. Once again my wife just felt disappointed in me she could no longer take it she had leave me took with her our kids. I became a confused man with nothing to live for. I started drinking and smoking heavily to top it all i had to move in with my father. I had to listen to him all the time telling me how disappointed he was at me. It was like i was blacklisted by every company here in the United State no one wanted to heir me even with my experience and how good i was with what i do it was impossible for me t ~ Derek Rivers

So here I am, in the middle way, having had twenty years
Twenty years largely wasted, the years of l'entre deux guerres
Trying to learn to use words, and every attempt
Is a wholly new start, and a different kind of failure
Because one has only learnt to get the better of words
For the thing one no longer has to say, or the way in which
One is no longer disposed to say it. And so each venture
Is a new beginning, a raid on the inarticulate
With shabby equipment always deteriorating
In the general mess of imprecision of feeling,
Undisciplined squads of emotion. ~ T. S. Eliot

Body parts really don't like to be cut, stabbed or hacked into sections, and they express their anger by leaking all over the fuck. Jesus, we're, like, seventy percent water or something? And you learn that's so fucking true when you go to a fresh scene. Pools of it. Drips of it. Speckles of it. Then you got the stained clothes, rugs, bedsheets, walls, flooring - or if it's outside, the ground cover, the concrete, the asphalt. And then there's the smell. Blood, sweat, urine, other shit. That juicy bouquet will get in your sinuses and stay there for hours afterward." He shook his head again. "The older cases . . . the smell is worse than the mess. Water deaths, with the bloating, are just ugly - and if that gas that's built up gets out? The stench will knock you on your ass. And I don't know, I wasn't too crazy for the burn deaths either. I mean, you'd think we'd realize we're not different than any other mammal - cooked meat is cooked meat, period. But I've never seen a grown man puke up his coffee and donuts over a medium rare T-bone. ~ J.R. Ward

If one more person tells me that "all gender is performance," I think I am going to strangle them. Perhaps most annoying about that sound-bite is the somewhat snooty "I-took-a-gender-studies-class-and-youdidn't" sort of way in which it is most often recited, a magnificent irony given the way that phrase dumbs down gender. It is a crass oversimplification, as ridiculous as saying all gender is genitals, all gender is chromosomes, or all gender is socialization. In reality, gender is all of these things and more. In fact, if there's one thing that all of us should be able to agree on, it's that gender is a confusing and complicated mess. It's like a junior high school mixer, where our bodies and our internal desires awkwardly dance with one another, and with all the external expectations that other people place on us.

Sure, I can perform gender: I can curtsy, or throw like a girl, or bat my eyelashes. But performance doesn't explain why certain behaviors and ways of being come to me more naturally than others. It offers no insight into the countless restless nights I spent as a pre-teen wrestling with the inexplicable feeling that I should be female. It doesn't capture the very real physical and emotional changes that I experienced when I hormonally transitioned from testosterone to estrogen. Performance doesn't even begin to address the fact that, during my transition, I acted the same, wore the same T-shirts, jeans, and sneakers that I always had, yet once other pe ~ Julia Serano

Trying to use words, and every attempt
Is a wholly new start, and a different kind of failure
Because one has only learnt to get the better of words
For the thing one no longer has to say, or the way in which
One is no longer disposed to say it. And so each venture
Is a new beginning, a raid on the inarticulate
With shabby equipment always deteriorating
In the general mess of imprecision of feeling, ~ T. S. Eliot

Because what if you did let someone in? And what if they saw everything, and still walked away? Who could blame them - who would want to bother with that sort of mess?" He flinched. The most powerful High Lord in history flinched. ~ Sarah J. Maas

K.T. sighs. If you mess with her head, I'll personally hunt you down, but otherwise, good luck. If you can get her to talk, you're a freaking miracle worker. Hell, if you can get her to actually smile, her parents might throw you a party. ~ Erica Cameron

I see the man that directs me to what jobs I have for the night. You see, I do the jobs that no others want to do. I clean up the mess that murderers, rapists, degenerates, and the scum of the earth make. Men that are high and mighty that can get away with their crimes so easily, because they have the money to make their problems disappear. But what most of them don't expect... is me. ~ T.L. Smith

With a sigh of resignation, I dial Ryder's number.
Exactly seven minutes later, he knocks on the door. Ryder to the rescue. I resist the urge to look around for his white horse.
"Okay, where is he?" he asks with a frown. His hair is wet, his T-shirt clinging damply to his skin. I'd either caught him in the shower or in the pool. Probably the pool, since he smells vaguely of chlorine.
I hook a thumb toward the living room. "In there. Passed out on the couch."
He looks at me sharply. "You haven't been drinking, have you?"
He's lucky I don't slap him. "I was sitting upstairs in my room, minding my own business, when he showed up at the door. What do you think? Asshat," I add under my breath.
His brow furrows. "What was that?"
"Nothing. C'mon. Get him out of there before he makes a mess."
"What about his car?"
I shrug. "I'll drive it school tomorrow and get a ride home from Lucy or something."
"I'll drive you home," he offers. Correction: he asserts--arrogantly, as if he's used to giving orders. "We need to go get those tarps and sandbags anyway."
"How did you…?" I trail off as the answer dawns on me. "My dad e-mailed you, didn't he?"
"Called me, actually. We'll go after school tomorrow. After practice," he amends.
"Yeah. Fine, whatever." Truthfully, I wasn't looking forward to lugging sandbags by myself. I wasn't even sure how I was going to fit them in my little Fiat. Problem solved.
Now to solve my other pro ~ Kristi Cook

You don't need a reason to be upset. I think you've had a breakdown, Liam." Breakdown, relapse, binge, craving. A big fucking mess. Fucking walking disaster. But Ali lets me cry myself dry while ruining his shirt. When I finally stop, he asks, "Will you go to a detox? Sasha can ask his counsellor for an emergency placement. Perhaps we can persuade them you're a danger to yourself?" Hearing those words, I chuckle through my tears. "I know I'm a danger to myself." Ali smiles. "Yeah. And to me." "What do you mean?" I have to clean some of my snot with the bottom of my T-shirt. It doesn't matter anyway since the clothes I'm wearing are dirty and probably need to be fumigated. His grin broadens. "Well, I'm dangerously close to caring too much about you." I shake my head. Ali's a big softie but I can't think about romance right now ~ A. Zukowski

Relief was what I was looking for that day, and I didn't care how I got it. What I wanted - what I needed - was a pain that I could see and deal with. I couldn't cope with the mess inside of me any longer, and cutting myself seemed to be the best solution. I knew that it would work. What I didn't know was that I was about t engage in a behavior that was not just dangerous but highly, highly addictive. ~ Victoria Leatham

Essentially, the Tea Party are the Hell's Angels, but with sun visors instead of switch blades. They push macaroni instead of meth. Mess with the Tea Party and they'll put your dog in an American flag sweater on a hot day. ~ Greg Gutfeld

He narrowed his eyes at me, pushed out of the booth and stomped over to the cash desk where Ash had returned and was playing a game on his mobile phone.

"Sorry, sir," he echoed, dead-pan, and then added: "She is the owner."

He dropped his voice to a stage whisper. "And she's righ' crazy, so I wouldn't mess with her. She stabbed someone with a plastic fork just last week."

"A--a plastic fork?" the man said, looking over at me nervously.

"Yeah, and you would not believe the mess. A carving knife woulda made cleaner work of it."

The man slapped a few coins on the counter near the cash and, clutching the remains of his paper, dashed out the door.

"Thanks, Ash," I said, absently.

"No probs," he said. "Chasing zombies on my phone--fair inspirational, aye? ~ K.C. Dyer

I started a novel back in high school. It wasn't very good. It was the opposite of good. The writing itself wasn't too bad, and the characters were interesting. But the story was a mess, and it was full of fantasy cliches. Dwarf with an axe. Barbarian warrior. I don't ever think I'd bother finishing that. It's just not worth my time. ~ Patrick Rothfuss

A child's bond to her mother cannot be understated, and my bond with Helen was a ragged, baffling, disheartening, chaotic mess. I felt crazy, often, around my own mother. I grew up questioning what was normal, asking what reality was and wasn't, and not trusting the outcome of different situations. She scared me and I couldn't predict her behavior, so I was often off-kilter and worried. ~ Cathy Lamb

After reading the salary, I've decided that I must refuse. The reason I have to refuse a salary like that is I would be able to do what I've always wanted to do- -get a wonderful mistress, put her up in an apartment, buy her nice things.. With the salary you have offered, I could actually do that, and I know what would happen to me. I'd worry about her, what she's doing; I'd get into arguments when I come home, and so on. All this bother would make me uncomfortable and unhappy. I wouldn't be able to do physics well, and it would be a big mess! What I've always wanted to do would be bad for me, so I've decided that I can't accept your offer. ~ Richard Feynman

If you live in a baboon troop in the Serengeti, you only have to work three hours a day for your calories, and predators don't mess with you much. What that means is you've got nine hours of free time every day to devote to generating psychological stress toward other animals in your troop. So the baboon is a wonderful model for living well enough and long enough to pay the price for all the social-stressor nonsense that they create for each other. They're just like us: They're not getting done in by predators and famines, they're getting done in by each other. ~ Robert M. Sapolsky

Bent down and plucked the fae's sword free of the fleshy mess that had once been his hand. Mental note: Don't mess with the spiders. ~ Pippa DaCosta

Of all the advice I can give someone...this is the most important: Never mess with a coconut salesman. A sharp machete is always at hand. ~ Dean MacAllister

The world could do with a good deal more mess, if you ask me, he said. ~ Kurt Vonnegut

Each of us is born with a crazy passion to learn. Each of us craves knowledge of our world and our place within it. We learn because we want to learn, because it's important to us, because it's natural, and because it's impossible to live in the world and not learn. Then along comes school to mess up a beautiful thing. ~ Ps Pirro

It wasn't a hard kiss, but it wasn't particularly soft either. It was just perfect. The perfect amount of sweet and hot, and...
She put her hands on his chest, shoving him backward. "Please don't mess with me. Please. Just talk to me."
Jackson's eyes shadowed with regret as he slowly released her wrist, lifting a hand to her face. The back of his fingers stroked her cheek softly. "Talk to you?"
She nodded.
"What shall I talk about?" he whispered.
"How about the fact that you're supposed to be in Houston right now? It's the only reason I came over."
"I was in Houston," he said.
"For what, an hour?" she asked.
"Probably about that, yeah." He was watching her mouth as his thumb brushed softly over her lips.
Her breath caught at the tenderness in his touch - in his eyes.
"What happened?"
His eyes flicked up to hers. "You want the full story, or the important part?"
"The important part," she whispered.
"I love you. ~ Lauren Layne

Unless you completely understand the investment world, do not mess around with it. It is not something I would go anywhere near. ~ Anthea Turner

Not being able to swipe into the subway when people are backing up behind you. Waiting for him at the bar. Leaving your purse open on a stool with a mess of bills visible. Mispronouncing the names while presenting French wines. Your clogs slipping on the waxed floors. The way your arms shoot out and you tense your face when you almost fall. Taking your job seriously. Watching the sex scene from Dirty Dancing on repeat and eating a box of gingersnaps for dinner on your day off. Forgetting your stripes, your work pants, your socks. Mentally mapping the bar for corners where you might catch him alone. Getting drunker faster than everyone else. Not knowing what foie gras is. Not knowing what you think about abortion. Not knowing what a feminist is. Not knowing who the mayor is. Throwing up between your feet on the subway stairs. On a Tuesday. Going back for thirds at family meal. Excruciating diarrhea in the employee bathroom. Hurting yourself when you hit your head on the low pipe. Refusing to leave the bar though it's over, completely over. Bleeding in every form. Beer stains on your shirt, grease stains on your jeans, stains in every form. Saying you know where something is when you have absolutely no idea where it is.

At some point, I leveled out. Everything stopped being embarrassing. ~ Stephanie Danler

I don't want to just mess with your head. I want to mess with your life ... I want you to miss appointments, burn dinner, skip your homework. I want you to tell your wife to take that moonlight stroll on the beach at Waikiki with the resort tennis pro while you read a few more chapters. ~ Stephen King

Why bother with clubs?

"Because you might get a shag," is the usual response. Really? If that's the only way you can find a partner - preening and jigging about like a desperate animal - you shouldn't be attempting to breed in the first place. What's your next trick? Inventing fire? People like you are going to spin civilisation into reverse. You're a moron, and so is that haircut you're trying to impress. Any offspring you eventually blast out should be drowned in a pan before they can do any harm. Or open any more nightclubs.

Even if you somehow avoid reproducing, isn't it a lot of hard work for very little reward? Seven hours hopping about in a hellish, reverberating bunker in exchange for sharing 64 febrile, panting pelvic thrusts with someone who'll snore and dribble into your pillow till 11 o'clock in the morning, before waking up beside you with their hair in a mess, blinking like a dizzy cat and smelling vaguely like a ham baguette? Really, why bother? Why not just stay at home punching yourself in the face? Invite a few friends round and make a night of it. It'll be more fun than a club. ~ Charlie Brooker

He did not understand her. They were not the same. The garage, the trial, the old man with his head in his hands
his mother, struggling to breathe
those things were horrors. The mess under Layla's clothes was a game and he hated her for making a part of it, for ever coming near him. ~ Kelly Braffet

Night and day the streets resounded with music, song, and the clinking of chalices and tankards, for it is well known that nothing is such thirsty work as the acquisition of knowledge. ~ Andrzej Sapkowski

Ryodan doesn't like Mac. He never has. She got between him and his best boy-bud. I give him a look. "I'll tell you a secret, Ryodan. You mess with her, Barrons'll kill you." I drag a finger across my neck. "Just like that. You aren't all that. Barrons'll stomp your ass, hand's down."

He smiles faintly. "I'll be damned. You have a crush on Barrons."

"I do not have a crush - "

"You do, too. It's all over your face. Anybody could see it."

"Sometimes, boss, you're just wrong."

"I'm never wrong. You might as well take out a billboard. 'Dani O'Malley thinks Jericho Barrons is hot.' My offer to teach you is still open. Save you from future embarrassment. If I can see it on your face, he can, too. "

"He never figured it out before," I grumble then realize I just admitted it. Ryodan has a tricky way of wording things that makes you say things you didn't mean to say. "Maybe I'll ask Barrons to teach me," I mutter and turn away from the stairs, heading for his office. I run smack into his chest. "Dude, move. Trying to get somewhere here."

"No one but me is ever going to teach you, Dani."

He touches me before I see it coming, has his hand under my chin, turning my face up. My shiver is instant and uncontrollable.

"That's non-negotiable. You signed a contract with me that grants exclusivity. You won't like it if you try to break it. ~ Karen Marie Moning