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Armor Quotes

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Armor Quotes

“Breathwork isn't for quick fixes, it's reclaiming power, one breath at a time. Practice makes it a daily ally, disintegrating armor to enrich creativity and connections. Like nature's steady pulse, breath affirms our strength.”

“When you listen, you are still. When you listen, you separate from your ego. When you listen, you learn a thing or two. You strengthen the muscle of empathy, And lengthen the muscle of patience. You allow others to feel seen and heard. And when others are seen and heard, they soften. And when they soften, they relinquish their armor. When the armor is gone, you see each other’s humanity. And when your humanity is exposed, your heart expands And you see yourself in the other’s eyes.”

“And the One will reveal the Bow of the Southern Star and conquer the enemy with courage and fine judgment. The sight of the One is true and the enemy cannot hide. Griffon will fly”

“And the One will take the Sword of the Western Sun and triumph over the enemy with boldness and insight. The arm of the One is steady and heads will roll. Snow Giants will battle”

“By the second cycle of the solstice of the warm time, the One will face the enemy. And the One will unearth the Shield of the Northern Lights and smote the enemy with daring and intelligence. The heart of the One is pious and evil will cower. Couatl will rise.”

“And the One will win the Armor of the Easter Dawn and defeat the enemy with audacity and wisdom. The body of the One is strong and ready to lead. Lammasu will pounce”

“I don't want them to think that we dress like savages,' she replied, with a scorn that Pocahontas might have resented; and he was struck again by the religious reverence of even the most unworldly American women for the social advantages of dress. 'It's their armour,' he thought, 'their defence against the unknown, and their defiance of it.' And he understood for the first time the earnestness with which May, who was incapable of tying a ribbon in her hair to charm him, had gone through the solemn rite of selecting and ordering her extensive wardrobe.”

“Drag wasn’t a disguise or an illusion; it was armor. When he stepped onstage, Axel became someone fierce and untouchable, a force of nature that gave no fucks and couldn’t be bothered. He brought hecklers to their knees, read homophobes until they needed the Da Vinci Code to piece their dignity back together, and faced the worst with a smart remark and a tongue pop. Lisel was both shield and weapon, the only refuge he’d had from these ugly years.”

“Standing there, I had the feeling of putting on armour, taking up secret weapons, becoming like a dreamer, invulnerable for the moment—safe in my dream. Now I could face the world, having no part in life; the presence of waiting phantoms could be forgotten. I was outside everything, surrendered unconditionally to my dream, giving no thought to my next move, prepared to obey whatever impulse next reaches me from the unseen.”

“I think we all wear armor. I think those who don't are fools, risking the pain of being wounded by the sharp edges of the world, over and over again. But if I've learned anything from those fools, it's that to be vulnerable is a strength most of us fear. It takes courage to let down your armor, to welcome people to see you as you are. Sometimes I feel the same as you: I can't risk having people behold me as I truly am. But there's also a small voice in the back of my mind, a voice that tells me, "You will miss so much by being so guarded."Perhaps it begins with one person. Someone you trust. You remove a piece of armor for them; you let the light stream in, even if it makes you wince. Perhaps that is how you learn to be soft yet strong, even in fear and uncertainty. One person, one piece of steel.”

“Oversharing? Not vulnerability; I call it floodlighting. ... A lot of times we share too much information as a way to protect us from vulnerability, and here's why. I'm scared to let you know that I just wrote this article and I'm under total fire for it and people are making fun of me and I'm feeling hurt -- the same thing that I told someone in an intimate conversation. So what I do is I floodlight you with it - I don't know you very well or I'm in front of a big group, or it's a story that I haven't processed enough to be sharing with other people - and you immediately respond "hands up; push me away" and I go, "See? No one cares about me. No one gives a s*** that I'm hurting. I knew it." It's how we protect ourselves from vulnerability. We just engage in a behavior that confirms our fear.”

“For example, a monk’s celibacy might armor the pelvis. It blocks orgasmic release and reinforces emotional numbness. Reich’s solution was orgastic potency. This is the ability to fully surrender to orgasm. It dissolves armor and restores vitality.”

“Do you care about your image?' Even as the words were coming out of my mouth, I was mentally kicking myself. He'd been kidding around, and meanwhile I sounded like an afternoon special. But he didn't seem to mind. 'Sure. It's my armor.' 'Your what?' The WALK sign flashed, and he put a hand on my elbow as we crossed the street. And yes, even that faint pressure on that small spot made my entire arm tingle. 'My armor. You know. Self-protective camouflage. Everybody has an armor. Even you, I bet, even though I still haven't figured out what form yours takes.”

“Try these," she suggested. She held out a pair of simple long gauntlets that were almost as fine as gloves, chain underneath and plate on top. Aurora Rose carefully took off the ones she wore and slipped the others on. They fit perfectly. "This is a bit more your style," the blue one said, approaching her with a breastplate that was almost as big as she was. It was curved femininely to fit Aurora Rose's body, but not ridiculously so. A staid design of roses and thorns was inlaid along the sides. It was sturdy, and 'heavy.' The princess had to readjust the way she stood to support it while everyone helped buckle it on the back. "And for the top..." the red one said, looking around. "Let 'her' choose," the green one suggested gently. Aurora Rose walked down the aisle slowly, getting used to the weight of the armor. She passed each of the women and then Phillip- dashing in his shining cuirass and silver-white greaves, like a soldier from ancient Rome. Her eyes swept over everything, everywhere, pausing nowhere. Golden helms, intricate onyx headpieces, spiked and dangerous-looking crowns, plated metal turbans. Finally, she saw what she wanted. She strode forward and lifted a helmet- one she 'knew' would fit- off the top shelf. A point came down the middle of the forehead to protect her nose- and was also vaguely reminiscent of Maleficent's headpiece. But instead of horns, silver wings swept back over the ears. With slow, sure movements she put it on. It 'did' fit. Perfectly. She turned around to show the others. Phillip sucked in his breath. "You look 'magnificent,' Rose. Like- like an ancient goddess of war." "Like victory," the green one said softly.”

“I don't consider an actor a star if he's paid $20 million and grimaces in front of the camera and has a stunt man stand in for him. They may be fine actors, but they're not role models. The real stars are wearing body armor in 130-degree heat . . . They're getting shot at and they don't have any stunt doubles standing in for them.”