Armor Quotes

“I feel bare. I didn't realize I wore my secrets as armor until they were gone and now everyone sees me as I really am.”
― Veronica Roth, Insurgent

“Love is a violent recreational sport. Proceed at your own risk. Helmets, armor, and steel-toe boots are required by law.”
― H.C. Paye

“You are
What you do
When it counts"
- The Masao”
― John Steakley, Armor

“Some of us walk around with a necklace of hope, an armour of sanity, but at the end of the day, they always come off. We reveal our naked, vulnerable, real selves.”
― Karen Quan, Write like no one is reading 2

“ARMOR, n. The kind of clothing worn by a man whose tailor is a blacksmith.”
― Ambrose Bierce, The Unabridged Devil's Dictionary

“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.”
― Brené Brown, The Power of Vulnerability: Teachings of Authenticity, Connections and Courage

“What is armor after all but a cage that moves with you?”
― Rebecca Solnit, Recollections of My Nonexistence: A Memoir

“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.”
― Jennifer Sturman, And Then Everything Unraveled

“Love is a violent recreational sport. Proceed at your own risk. Helmets, armor, and steel-toe boots are required by law.”
― H.C.Paye

“Large men in black plate mail with red cloaks and plumes don't sneak worth a damn.”
― Tanya Huff, Nights of the Round Table and Other Stories of Heroic Fantasy

“Thank you, Father," Sir Lancelot replied gratefully. "But ... er ... Father?"
"Yes, Lancelot?"
"You didn't say anything about my armor. Is it not shiny enough?”
― Gerald Morris

“Dr. Timothy Shutt, in the context of the Illiad, explains the larger meaning of armor in Greek culture. It is the visible reputation of the warrior -- his gravitas, his wake. This allows another warrior to go out and win victories in the armor of Achilles.”
― Timothy Shutt

“Yes, Father. They have the bravest hearts, the noblest souls, and the shiniest armor in all the world.”
“Shiniest armor?” repeated King Ban.”
― Gerald Morris

“Good armor and a good horse means a good ransom if I unseat him.”
― George R.R. Martin, A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms

“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.”
― Caleb Roehrig, Death Prefers Blondes

“Armored against love, for fear of loving too much, and losing.”
― Carey Harrison, Richard's Feet

“I'd spent so much time saying things in my head, never letting those thoughts come off my lips. I'd used the words of others to express myself, protecting myself. I wrapped myself in an armor of silence and written words of other people. But now? I could draw strength from those words in a different way.”
― Christina June, No Place Like Here

“chinks in the armor. There’s always one,” he’d told her, and she’d written it down. “And it’s usually where you don’t expect you’ll find it. It’s usually at the strongest point.”
― Sarah K.L. Wilson, Dance With The Sword

“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.”
― Hania Khuri-Trapper, Rest & Return: Weekly Reminders to Pause, Reflect, and Just Be

“You have such an expressive face,” he remarked. “It’s devastating when you smile—but I think I prefer you this way, wearing your anger like armor. As if you won’t fall to pieces the moment someone breaks through your defenses and sees the shatter of it in your eyes.”
― Nenia Campbell, Rent Girl

“Meng Po raised her arms.
At once, the gashes on Mulan's skin healed. Her wounds closed, and the dull pain in her ankle vanished. The rips and tears on her sleeves mended themselves, and her soldier's uniform, which had seen battle on Earth as well as in the Underworld, began to shimmer- until the simple muslin and linen cloth became a rich, forest-green silk. Her tunic lengthened, stretching until it flared behind her calves. Fitted over her chest was the finest armor, emblazoned with pink lotus blossoms and a red dragon.”
― Elizabeth Lim, Reflection

“It was an odd being which rose from Felix and through him. It was, in fact, a remarkable creature. It was a wartime creature and a surviving creature. A killing creature.

The Engine, Felix thought. It's not me. It's my Engine. It will work when I cannot. It will examine and determine and choose and, at last, act. It will do all this while I cower inside.”
― John Steakley, Armor

“He leaned back and looked Ned full in the face, his grey-green eyes bright with mockery. “You wear your honor like a suit of armor, Stark. You think it keeps you safe, but all it does is weigh you down and make it hard for you to move. Look at you now. You know why you summoned me here. You know what you want to ask me to do. You know it has to be done . . . but it’s not honorable, so the words stick in your throat.”
― George R.R. Martin, A Game of Thrones

“Mulan found it easier to face the morning by pretending that her clothes were armor. The stiff coronation robe Ting was smoothing down over her shoulders? She imagined it woven with threads of spun gold, the embroidered phoenixes stitched with blazing-red iron. Her sash, hanging loose down her back, was a shoulder guard of blue iron, and the phoenixes on her shoes were spikes and spurs.
“Please keep your head forward, Empress.”
A handmaiden gripped a handful of hair, pulling it taut enough to make Mulan’s eyes water. The hair, at least, was easy to imagine as a helmet. By the time the maid finished wrapping it around multiple combs and adorning the layered buns with everything from flowers to jade to tiny golden bells, Mulan’s coiffure would stop arrows far better than anything the imperial blacksmiths could craft.
The maid inserted one last pin and stepped back. “All done.”
She pulled the train of Mulan’s robe out as Mulan stepped in front of a full-length mirror. Mulan’s reflection was warped and metallic on the coppery finish, but she could see that she was made up as intricately as the finest ladies of court, her face powdered white, her eyes lined with charcoal, and her lips painted red as her sash. Her eyebrows had been shaved and drawn back in with blue-black pigment. Tiny silver beads adorned her yellow-tinted forehead, and three flowers had been painted on her right cheek.
“Armor,” Mulan said under her breath.
“Your Majesty?”
“Nothing, just talking to myself.”
― Livia Blackburne, Feather and Flame

“Mulan found it easier to face the morning by pretending that her clothes were armor. The stiff coronation robe Ting was smoothing down over her shoulders. She imagined it woven with threads of spun gold, the embroidered phoenixes stitched with blazing-red iron. Her sash, hanging loose down her back, was a shoulder guard of blue iron, and the phoenixes on her shoes were spikes and spurs.
“Please keep your head forward, Empress.”
A handmaiden gripped a handful of hair, pulling it taut enough to make Mulan’s eyes water. The hair, at least, was easy to imagine as a helmet. By the time the maid finished wrapping it around multiple combs and adorning the layered buns with everything from flowers to jade to tiny golden bells, Mulan’s coiffure would stop arrows far better than anything the imperial blacksmiths could craft.
The maid inserted one last pin and stepped back. “All done.”
She pulled the train of Mulan’s robe out as Mulan stepped in front of a full-length mirror. Mulan’s reflection was warped and metallic on the coppery finish, but she could see that she was made up as intricately as the finest ladies of court, her face powdered white, her eyes lined with charcoal, and her lips painted red as her sash. Her eyebrows had been shaved and drawn back in with blue-black pigment. Tiny silver beads adorned her yellow-tinted forehead, and three flowers had been painted on her right cheek.
“Armor,” Mulan said under her breath.
“Your Majesty?”
“Nothing, just talking to myself.”
― Livia Blackburne

“The strongest armor one can wear is integrity.”
― Aloo Denish Obiero

“There’s a whisper of something at the back of my neck, and I bristle, knowing that for weeks I’ve been
leaving my armor at the door, slipping around the warm floors in nothing sturdier than gossamer, assuming the world outside was the problem.”
― Lauren Nossett

“There’s a whisper of something at the back of my neck, and I bristle, knowing that for weeks I’ve been leaving my armor at the door, slipping around the warm floors in nothing sturdier than gossamer, assuming the world outside was the problem.”
― Lauren Nossett, The Professor

“It wasn’t a suit of armor, it was my insides on the outside. A wearable prayer.”
― Robin Brown, Glitter Saints: The Cosmic Art of Forgiveness, a Memoir

“Without will of my own, my startled sight jumped to Guenhumara's face and I saw the tide of painful color flood up to the roots of her hair, and I knew too that she had had no warning, but that unlike me, she had feared in advance; and that the heavy paint of her face had been put on as a young man takes up his armor.”
― Rosemary Sutcliff, Sword at Sunset