Quotes About Head

Blue." It was Ronan's voice, for the first time, and everyone, even Helen, twisted their head towards him. His head was cocked in a way that Gansey recognized as dangerous. Something in his eyes was sharp as he stared at Blue. He asked, "Do you know Gansey?" ... Blue looked defensive under their stares. She said reluctantly. "Only his name." With his fingers loosely together, elbows on his knees, Ronan leaned forward across Adam to be closer to Blue. He could be unbelievably threatening. "And how is it," he asked," you came to know Gansey's name?

You can read minds, and you didn't tell me?” Link stared at me like he just found out I was the Silver Surfer. He rubbed his head nervously. “Hey, man, all that stuff about Lena? I was yankin’ your chain.” He looked away. “Are you doin’ it now? You're doin’ it, aren't you? Dude, get out of my head.” He backed away from me and into the bookshelf. “I can't read your mind, you idiot.

When an artist wants to paint a painting, they have all those things in their head that they want to portray on a canvas. It's the same thing when I'm pitching. I have all these thoughts going through my head about how I want to pitch: which pitch I want to throw here, and why do I want to throw it?

You ought not attempt to cure the eyes without the head, or the head without the body, so neither ought you attempt to cure the body without the soul.

The things other people have put into my head, at any rate, do not fit together nicely, are often useless and ugly, are out of proportion with one another, are out of proportion with life as it really is outside my head.

Missionarying was a better thing in those days than it is in ours. All you had to do was to cure the head savage´s sick daughter by a miracle- a miracle like the miracle of Lourdes in our day, for instance- and immediately that head savage was your convert, and filled to the eyes with a new convert´s enthusiasm. You could sit down and make yourself easy now. He would take the ax and convert the rest of the nation himself.

I'm always on to something else. It's like, I'm sitting here now jotting down notes for something that's in my head. There's always something going on in my head, and I have to just keep executing.

I'm from Chicago, my family started a chain of movie theaters in Chicago that were around for 70 years and then one of them became the head of Paramount and the other was the head of production at MGM and we all came out of Chicago.

I think that religion stops people from thinking. I think it justifies crazies. I think flying planes into a building was a faith-based initiative. I think religion is a neurological disorder. If you look at it logically, it's something that was drilled into your head when you were a small child. It certainly was drilled into mine at that age. And you really can't be responsible when you are a kid for what adults put into your head.

It's like banging my head against the wall, except if I were actually banging my head on a wall, I'd be able to make myself stop.

Jealous?...Of what? I don't want a foul scar right across my head, thanks. I don't think getting your head cut open makes you that special, myself.

When we react to life from the head without joining forces with the heart, it can lead us into childish, inelegant behavior that we don't respect in ourselves. If we get the head in sync with the heart first, we have the power of their teamwork working for us and we can make the changes we know we need to make.

I think I've had my taste.I got to work with Sam [L.Jackson]. I can say I did it. I had my shot. I'd love to do something with [Robert] De Niro or Dustin Hoffman or Al Pacino. Those are guys I grew up watching. That would be wonderful. Now that I've gotten a taste working with a bona fide movie star, I think I'd be more prepared to go head to head with some of the big boys.

Doroga thumped a finger against his skull. Head got nothing to do with the heart. Your heart wants what it wants. Head got to learn that it can only kill the heart or else get out of the way

Was it all in my head? A Lunar trick?” Her stomach twisted. “No.” She shook her head, fervently. How to explain that she hadn’t had the gift before? That she couldn’t have used it against him? “I would never lie—” The words faded. She had lied. Everything he knew about her had been a lie. “I’m so sorry,” she finished, the words falling lamely in the open air. Kai peeled his eyes away, finding some place of resignation off in the glistening garden. “You’re even more painful to look at than she is.

I did a film a long time ago with a shaved head and I had the ugliest looking head in the world.

...for the first time in my life, a voice went off in my head:'You have no power over what happens in your life. Drugs dictate exactly what you're going to do. You've taken your hands off the steering wheel, and you're going wherever the drug world takes you.' That had never changed. The feeling would well up inside of me, and no matter how much I loved my girl or my band or my friends or my family, when that siren song 'Go get high now' started playing in my head, I was off.

It's all in your head -- you just have no idea how big your head is.

Hey, here's a way to stop suicide bombings - give the Palestinians a bunch of missile-firing Apache helicopters and let them and the Israelis go at each other head to head. Four billion dollars a year to Israel - four billion dollars a year to the Palestinians - they can just blow each other up and leave the rest of us the hell alone.

I'm a war of head versus heart, it's always this way. My head is weak, my heart always speaks, before I know what it will say.

If you listen to a song and get an image in your head, and then you go home and watch mtv and the image they're showing is the same as the one in your head, kill yourself. You're better off coming back as a lobster.

This is the United States of America and unfortunately, race still matters to a lot of people. The evil head of racism doesn't hide, it sticks its head up.

It's not put into his head to be buried. It's put into his head to be made useful. You hold your life on the condition that to the last you shall struggle hard for it. Every man holds a discovery on the same terms.

I'm sure that inside your heart... you're trying with all your might to find it on your own... the reason you were born. Because... because really... there might not be anyone who was born with a reason. I think that everyone... everyone might have to find one on their own. [in her head] A reason for being born... A reason that it's okay to be alive... A reason to exist. [aloud] I think everyone might have to find it themselves... and decide it for themselves. It could be your dreams... your job... or a person... The reason you're looking for... might be vague, unclear... and uncertain. [in her head] And you might lose it. [aloud] But as long as you're alive... you have to keep searching for that reason.

Nay, Sir, it was not the WINE that made your head ache, but the SENSE that I put into it' 'What, Sir! will sense make the head ache?' 'Yes, Sir, (with a smile,) when it is not used to it.

Dancing? You, Poppy?" Marianne shook her head slowly. I never thought..." Rose looked concerned. She even felt Poppy's head for fever, but Poppy shook her off. "I don't know about you, Rose, but I'm done letting creatures like Under Stone and the Corley dictate my life. I enjoy dancing, and I will blasted well dance at my wedding!" "Poppy! Language!" Poppy didn't answer; she just threw her arms around Christian and kissed him soundly.

As an editor, you're constantly dealing with the best way to convey an exchange between two people. So when I'm shooting that, I'm just aware in the back of my head what an editor might want. And also, the problems editors run into when trying to edit performances - it helps me head that off at the pass a little.

When people warn me about someone - the label head or the publishing head - that somebody is difficult, I'm in heaven.

What helped me a lot is the fact that I have a very short neck. If I had a neck like a stack of dimes, you can bet I couldn't take a good shot. But the fact that I had a short neck and worked on it a lot (as opposed to most fighters who don't work on their neck muscles) definitely helped. I would stand on my head against a wall and move my head back and forth, side to side, for half an hour or so while talking on the phone.

The humbleness of a warrior is not the humbleness of the beggar. The warrior lowers his head to no one, but at the same time, he doesn't permit anyone to lower his head to him. The beggar, on the other hand, falls to his knees at the drop of a hat and scrapes the floor to anyone he deems to be higher; but at the same time, he demands that someone lower than him scrape the floor for him.

I don’t like to badmouth people. But I’m the head of a monarchy that began in the ninth century, and I’m apparently more modern than Chris Christie. Look, I know he has to appeal to the crazy right-wingers in his party, but the fact is, he’s not as forward-thinking as an eighty-seven-year-old lady who wears a crown on her head. It’s pathetic.

Ninety percent of the people don't realize that there is anything below the head. They think that the head is carried around by something very mysterious, and they're not aware that it's the body, something they should be in tune with.

But she did not take her eyes from the wheels of the second car. And exactly at the moment when the midpoint between the wheels drew level with her, she threw away the red bag, and drawing her head back into her shoulders, fell on her hands under the car, and with a light movement, as though she would rise immediately, dropped on her knees. And at the instant she was terror-stricken at what she was doing. 'Where am I? What am I doing? What for?' She tried to get up, to throw herself back; but something huge and merciless struck her on the head and dragged her down on her back.

In all feats of fire-eating it should be noted that the head is thrown well back, so that the flame may pass out of the open mouth instead of up into the roof, as it would if the head were held naturally.

There are times when things are clear in your head and your heart and everything comes all aligned and it's easy and it just feels good to do something. But most of the time it's not like that. Most of the time there's conflict between your head and your heart.

I think things through a lot, so I probably use my head more than my heart. That probably comes through in my acting.

So I knocked on the door at this bed & Breakfast and a lady stuck her head out of the window and said: 'What do you want', I said, 'I want to stay here'. She said, 'Well stay there' and shut the window.

Sometimes you need to get hit in the head to realize that you're in a fight.

What seems over your head is always under His feet.

The comedy gods are smiling on me tonight, because I have been saying, for the longest time, that president Bush must set a timetable for removing his head from his ass...and, by god, today they went in and looked for it... They didn't find it. So now we don't know where it is, but at least for once in my life, I get to see the words "Bush", "operation", and "success" in the same sentence.

I was not self-destructive, though I almost destroyed myself. In the end, I turned away from stand-up with a tired swivel of my head...

People are better inside in your head. When you're longing for them, they're perfect.

I look up at the ceiling, tracing the foliage of the wreath. Today it makes me think of a hat, the large-brimmed hats women used to wear at some period during the old days: hats like enormous halos, festooned with fruit and flowers, and the feathers of exotic birds; hats like an idea of paradise, floating just above the head, a thought solidified.

Do you ever get the feeling like you already know the entire contents of the universe somewhere inside of your head, as if you were born with a complete map of this world already grafted onto the folds of your cerebellum and you are just spending your entire life figuring out how to access this map?

I would not be as married to locations and ideas, when I show up in the city that I'm actually going to shoot it in. You really have to roll with it. That perfect thing you have in your head just isn't going to be there sometimes, and you have to figure out what you're going to do, if you can't find it.

The wounds I carry, she carries them too. The unshed tears in my head flow through her heart too .

Why, the little Voice inside my head, of course. You mean you don't have one? I did.

The captain has just turned on the fasten-seat-belt-sign. He didn't mean to, but the joint he was smoking fell in his lap, and when he jumped up, his head hit the switch.