Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Blunted. Share them with your friends on social media platforms like Facebook, Twitter, or your personal blogs, and let the world be inspired by their powerful messages. Here are the Top 100 Blunted Quotes And Sayings by 92 Authors including Foz Meadows,Justin Bienvenue,Jean-Bertrand Aristide,Andrzej Sapkowski,Sherrilyn Kenyon for you to enjoy and share.
I never knew words could be so sharp, until the wrong ones cut me
Soothe and sly stamina with a short sword they slice
They are beyond precise making the victim pay the price
Chopped down the tree of peace, but it will grow again.
As deformed as a grotesque potato,
screwed blued and tattooed
scarred by wisdom she'd never asked for.
A hit, a very palpable hit.
I have been cut in two.Cut-- Anne Sexton
No knife cuts as swiftly, deeply and precisely as the blade of the Beloved.
excoriated and burned, mapped and measured and meted
Least said, soonest mended.
Stubbed it out in the ashtray she had been using before, for her equally
Shaken and not stirred.
A foot of steel looks as if it has been transformed into warm butter and gouged by the fingers of a child,
Some people's spirits, but some of them will never be dull not be blunted.
Fill your bowl to the brim and it will spill. Keep sharpening your knife and it will blunt.
Better than a sharp stick in the eye.
Some words hit you like a tree branch slapping you in the face. And some words rip into your flesh, leaving scars so deep, they never completely fade.
The difference between coarse and refined abuse is the difference between being bruised by a club and wounded by a poisoned arrow.
He was always smoothing and polishing himself, and in the end he became blunt before he was sharp.
Blessed are the sat upon, spat upon, ratted on.
Let hardship sharpen your blade.
Anticipated spears wound less.
Mischief Managed.
As a week. She's been spanked with a spatula, slapped across
I was the first Blunt ever elected to anything.
Keep out of Chancery. It's being ground to bits in a slow mill; it's being roasted at a slow fire; it's being stung to death by single bees; it's being drowned by drops; it's going mad by grains.
When a public quarrel is envenomed by private injuries, a blow that is not mortal or decisive can be productive only of a short truce, which allows the unsuccessful combatant to sharpen his arms for a new encounter.
He that toucheth pitch shall be defiled therewith.
I have taken a terrible beating from the truth and feel tamed, wise and desperate, as if I had taken a short route to wisdom through a mirror, and cut myself badly on it as I passed through.
Verbal blows cut to the soul and ate at the heart for eternity.
Umbed by disappointment and betrayal, like a child who had been awakened suddenly from a summer dream about christmas morning.
Killing a person with a 8 cm ling blunt knife is a bloody affair ...
watermelon cut in half and it was
The scalpel won't make you happy.
Salt. Wound. Together at last.
What Zayd had said to her was hurtful. The words speared across the most sensitive part of her heart like how a gardening spear cut along the leaves, leaving the top part of the bushes bare and lost.
Hurt is a weapon. Better weapon than most because it doesn't look like one.
The thumbs have been pricked, at least proverbially.
For justice is a blunt knife, both as a philosophy and as a judge.
There are words which cut like steel.
I have been mostly dull lately. Like a butter knife. And hoping to find, when called upon, something more in my arsenal than a butter knife. Unless my opponent is actually butter. Then that would be fine. Room temperature butter.
Bruised, beaten, shaken, weakened, tossed, thrown, lost, alone, heard, helped, healed, hope... it still works.
Serrated, adj.
And you said, "I'm not sure we can.
When he spoke, his words seared through the air like so many knives, clipped as topiary, crisp as biscuits.
The sword the body wounds, sharp words the mind.
This was not a beauty that warmed one. It cut, like a weapon. There was no nuance of gentleness in her, no shading of care, but fair she was, as is the flight of an arrow before it kills.
Strung out on lasers and slash back blazers.
Her beauty was like the edge of a very sharp knife.
this word needs to be reworded ==========
Kind words are salve to a cankered soul; spread generously.
It's the dull knife that cuts you.
expelled from the garden.
Burned over water.
sacralized, violence made sacred in the very act of being expelled; or still, human violence transformed from bad and destructive
She put
two-fingered guns to her temples when she saw us: red patch
of smoker's skin around her mouth like a raw sun rising.
Everybody's damaged by something.
I needed cutting now the way a diabetic needs insulin. It was a bulwark, steady and unyielding, I could throw up against the insidious, corrosive lapping of a whispering sea of uneasiness.
It was a bowl cut, the hairstyle for someone who doesn't grasp respectable haircuts but suddenly has to have one.
Riven and torn with cannon-shot, the trunks of the trees protruded bunches of splinters like hands, the fingers above the wound interlacing with those below.
Gentle with the drugs, heavy with the love
He'd fashioned himself into one hard edge. He was all blade and no handle. If she held him close, she'd risk being cut.
Armed I am with love. Disarmed I am.
she was a rare, beautiful gift. And such a gift, came the ice-cold reminder from the core of his nature, would only end up crushed and bloody and defiled should he attempt to handle it.
a trauma that breaks you into brand new pieces.
Bottling up his malice to be suppressed and brought out with increased violence.
You know, Miss Bard, there is such a thing as being sharp enough to cut yourself.
Shined, combed, brushed and gorgeous
single word. I know she cut his hair, but that's
Our love isn't the sick and sticky splendor of teenage ardor, I've realized. It's sharp, slicing - a knife to the heart, followed by the quick stitching of its two halves back together again.
What is this word that broke through the fence of your teeth, Atreides?
(Stoner stepped into view and put the barrel of his 9 mm H&K against the man's forehead.)
Drop it. They can patch a knife would, but I doubt we'll find all the pieces to put your brain back together. (Stoner)
Your words are like mirrors.
They may cut, but they also reflect.
You're harshing my mellow.
We must take time out to sharpen the ax or we'll exhaust ourselves trying to fell trees with a blunt instrument.
Bent
like the branches of a tree
broken
like the pieces of my heart
cracked
like the seventeenth moon
shattered
like the glass in the window
the day we met
The blade sings to me. Faintly, so soft against my ears, its voice calms my worries and tells me that one touch will take it all away. It tells me that I just need to slide a long horizontal cut, and make a clean slice. It tells me the words that I have been begging to hear: this will make it ok.
Wounded
A bruise is tender
but does not last,
it leaves me as
I always was.
But a wound I take
much more to heart,
for a scar will always
leave its mark.
And if you should ask me
which you are,
my answer is -
you are a scar.
Useless as a pulled tooth.
The artful injury, whose venomed dart scarce wounds the hearing, while it stabs the heart.
Today the man looked a bit . . . chewed. No, humans wouldn't say "chewed." Frazzled. Was that the human equivalent?
SCISSOR BLADE DECAPITATION MODE
I've seen Emily's scars, and that's more than you can say.
Fairfield shrunk back from the anger in Anjan's voice. "I meant well," he whispered.
Anjan leaned forward across the desk until he was an inch from the other man. "Mean better.
mashed into a casserole of wreckage that still smoked and burned.
the killing blow is sometimes the softest
A hundred canes shattered in the sun, like a load of antihistamines falling out of an airplane.
Don't be sharp or flat; just be natural.
You will come across few creatures that cannot be successfully defeated by the application of sufficient blunt trauma.
Emotional cutters cut where it caused the deepest wound.
to live at all is to be bruised
Many strokes, though with a little axe, hew down and fell the hardest-timber'd oak.
You were cut?" "Yeah, but I'm okay. Just a little sore." Devilishness shined in Malik's eyes. "What was the weapon again? Paring knife? Melon baller?" He squeezed his thumb and forefinger together. "One of those cinnamon-flavored toothpicks?
The (editing) work was like peeling an onion. The outer skin came off with difficulty ... but in no time youd be down to its innards, tears streaming from your eyes as more and more beautiful reductions became possible.
Lyric:
"The keywords you have entered are 'I' and 'damaged', question mark.
" Do you want to ask, Am I damaged?
"Do you want to ask, Have I damaged?
'Damaged', adjective: defaced mutilated, mangled, impaired, injured, disfigured. Latin damnum, meaning loss or hurt.
Such a suitable word, stroke. I'd heard it since childhood without fully understanding its meaning, but it sounded, even through a haze of sleep and dope, just like itself: abrupt and brutal and irreversible. A stroke of lightning, the stroke of midnight, the stroke of a pen.
knife in my hand.
If the incision of our words amounts to nothing but a feeling, a slow motion, it will still cut a better swath than the factory model, the corporate model, the penitentiary model, which by my lights are one and the same.
You're like a dull knife, just ain't cuttin', just talkin' loud and saying nothing
You saw me bludgeoned by circumstance.
Lost, injured, hurt by chance.
I screamed to the heavens ... loudly screamed ...
Trying to change our nightmares into dreams ...
'Tis a sharp medicine, but it will cure all that ails you.