Ellen Ripley: — How many drops is this for you, Lieutenant?
Gorman: — Thirty-eight... Simulated.
Vasquez: — How many combat drops?
Gorman: — Uh, two... including this one.
Hudson: — Shit.
Attempt 158
— Hi. I need to know how to fight with a sword.
— I have no idea what you just said.
— I need to learn how to fight with a sword.
— There is something intriguing about you that I like. I'm flying home to Shanghai in the morning. I would only have a day.
— I think we can get a lot done in a day.
Attempt 161
— I'm a beginner, but I'm a quick learner.
— It is the one who wields it that makes it a weapon, Roy. That sword is no more an extension of you than a set of car keys.
Attempt 198
— I've had some training, but I'm willing to work hard.
— In lesser hands, the jian blade is just a flimsy piece of forged steel. But within the most determined grip and under the keenest eyes, it becomes a weapon
of annihilation.
Attempt 200
I've had a very good teacher, but I need to learn more.
No one hits the bull's eye with the first arrow.
Never one to turn his back on a fight, Rigwarl was known for battling the biggest, meanest scrappers he could get his hands on. Christened Bristleback by the drunken crowds, he waded into backroom brawls in every road tavern between Slom and Elze, until his exploits finally caught the eye of a barkeep in need of an enforcer. For a bit of brew, Bristleback was hired to collect tabs, keep the peace, and break the occasional leg or two (or five, in the case of one unfortunate web-hund). After indulging in a night of merriment during which bodily harm was meted out in equal parts upon both delinquent patrons and his own liver, Bristleback finally met his match. "Your tusks offend me, sir," he was heard to drunkenly slur to one particularly large fellow from the northern wastes whose bill had come due. What followed was a fight for the ages. A dozen fighters jumped in. No stool was left unbroken, and in the end, the impossible happened: the tab went unpaid. Over the weeks that followed, Bristleback's wounds healed, and his quills grew back; but an enforcer's honor can be a prickly thing. He paid the tab from his own coin, vowing to track down this northerner and extract redemption. And then he did something he'd never done before: he actually trained, and in so doing made a startling discovery about himself. A smile peeled back from his teeth as he flexed his quills. Turning his back to a fight might be just the thing.
Getting away from things every now and again, having balance in our lives can be just as important to our performance as practice.
A diamond must be cut many times before it yields even a tiny jewel.
Even if you win three or four times, the next victory will not necessarily be yours without trying.
If you can only do one thing, hone it to perfection. Hone it to the utmost limit.
— You know, this is great, Frankie. Being in the main ring with you and the crew and all that, but I already have a trainer.
— Can you stop filming?
— No, don't stop.
— Stop filming. What's your problem, Kid? I thought you'd be thankful I was offering to work with you. I'm trying to do you a favor.
— I'm grateful. Nice of you to come down from your mountain to do me this favor... ...but I don't need a favor. I need a trainer. You stuck me with that guy, who's such a dumbshit... he doesn't even know I'm talking about him right now. See?
— It's what it is.
— The only reason you give a shit is I finally got some heat. Let's be honest, Frank.
— Oh. Really? Oh, okay. You're the original media whore.
— Your mother's a whore.
— What?
— Your mother's a whore. And I named my son after her best trick. Right, BJ?
Wish strongly and keep thinking about what you have to do. Continue to train, without giving up!
I always worked on fundamentals because I know athleticism is fleeting.
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