Evel Knievel Quotes
I know that I'm very lucky to be alive. For 35 or 40 years I've spilt my blood and broke my bones and spent years in hospitals.
Quotes to Explore
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Make no little plans; they have no magic to stir men's blood and probably themselves will not be realized.
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I always love listening to Bob Dylan. 'Blood on the Tracks' is one of my favorite albums.
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I love England. I don't really like places when they're too hot. It's my Celtic blood.
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There's more to life than cheek bones.
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My great religion is a belief in the blood, the flesh, as being wiser than the intellect. We can go wrong in our minds. But what our blood feels and believes and says, is always true. The intellect is only a bit and a bridle.
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Another time I cracked two of the vertebrae in my back and broke a rib.
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My coach told me if I broke the national record for the 200, I could run a 100.
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First off, I could never become a doctor. Blood? Even the fake blood on 'American Horror Story,' I'm kind of ready to hurl.
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There were songs I would write about breaking up with somebody before I broke up with them, months and months before I broke up with them.
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The chef that grew up with the grandma who cooks tends to always beat the chef that went to the culinary institute. It's in the blood.
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Then I heard another shot which hit him right in the head, over here, and his head practically opened up and a lot of blood and many more things came out.
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Like a lot of people, I love a bit of blood and gore.
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I drink blood, you eat tacos, get the f*ck over it!" -Michel Glass
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Now Bart, since you broke Grandpa's teeth, he gets to break yours.
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My head was spinning, I had never seen blood. Four years old, this don't feel like love.
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I am ready to meet God face to face tonight and look into those eyes of infinite holiness, for all my sins are covered by the atoning blood.
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The old wanderlust had gotten into his blood, the joy of the unbound life, the joy of seeking, of hoping without limit.
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I know that you cannot hate other people without hating yourself.
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I wanted to feel those words in my mouth as I spoke them aloud. Words could be like food—they felt like something in your mouth. They tasted like something. “My brother is in prison.” Those words tasted bitter.
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I'm so grateful to Hugo Lindgren, Jon Kelly, and the people who gave me the opportunity to write a weekly column. It's an amazing thing to do, and when I started they both said, you know, the problem with columns is they just exist forever.
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Home is wherever I am. People make too big a deal about where you live. I try to be grounded in myself. Home is another way of saying 'a place where you keep all your stuff'.
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To dispense with ceremony is the most delicate mode of conferring a compliment.
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I know that I'm very lucky to be alive. For 35 or 40 years I've spilt my blood and broke my bones and spent years in hospitals.
