Bret Hart Quotes

I'm the best there is, the best there was, and the best there ever will be.

If, of all words of tongue and pen, The saddest are, 'It might have been,' More sad are these we daily see: 'It is, but hadn't ought to be.

The only sure thing about luck is that it will change.

For, he (The Devil) observed, the issue of the great battle of Good and Evil had been otherwise settled, as he would presently show him. "It wants but a few moments of night," he continued, "and over this interval of twilight, as you know, I have been given complete control. Look to the West.("The Legend of Monte Del Diablo")

There was, I think, a prevailing impression common to the provincial mind, that his misfortune was the result of the defective moral quality of his being a stranger.

There was a Sabbath lull in the air, which, in a settlement unused to Sabbath influences, looked ominous.

Tommy, you're a good little man, but you can't gamble worth a cent. Don't try it over again.' He then handed him his money back, pushed him gently from the room, and so made a devoted slave of Tom Simson.

I've had some mighty mean moments afore I kem to this spot,-- Lost on the plains in '50, drowned almost, and shot; But out on this alkali desert, a hunting a crazy wife, Was ra'ly as on-satis-factory as anything in my life.

The morning was bright and propitious. Before their departure, mass had been said in the chapel, and the protection of St. Ignatius invoked against all contingent evils, but especially against bears, which, like the fiery dragons of old, seemed to cherish unconquerable hostility to the Holy Church. ("The Legend Of Monte Del Diablo").

He was known to be a gambler; he was suspected to be a thief.

A bird in hand is a certainty. But a bird in the bush may sing.

It [the town] was experiencing a spasm of virtuous reaction, quite as lawless and ungovernable as any of the acts that had provoked it.

Luck is a mighty queer thing. All you know about it for certain is that it's bound to change. And it's finding out when it's going to change that makes you.

My dad was a shooter, or submission wrestler, and he loved to stretch anyone who dared to show up at his door. I remember him stretching the daylights out of Father Roberts, the Catholic priest who baptized all the Hart kids. Father Roberts got closer to God in my father’s basement dungeon than he felt comfortable with. But Stu was non-denominational; he stretched a rabbi once too.

Nellie was a good girl, and I think had a sort of quiet respect for old Fagg's unobtrusiveness. But her fancy was already taken captive by Rattler's superficial qualities, which were obvious and pleasing. I don't think Nellie was any worse than you or I. We are more apt to take acquaintances at their apparent value than their intrinsic worth. It's less trouble, and, except when we want to trust them, quite as convenient.

One thing you will discover is that life is based less than you think on what you’ve learned and much more than you think on what you have inside you from the beginning. —Bret ‘The Hitman’ Hart, quoting Mark Helprin

The best chance you have if you wanna rise to top is the give yourself loanliness, fear nothing and work hard. One thing you will discover life is the best lesson you think, what you have learned much more than you think and what you have inside right from the beginning.

Each time I glanced into the rearview mirror, the black around my eyes was bigger and darker. Every once in a while Tom and I would look at each other with a silent acknowledgement that we had just worked our greatest match. When I think of it now, a quote from Georges Braque comes to mind: "Art is a wound turned to light." To my mind, that is also the beauty of pro wrestling.

netherock,

After completing work in December 1950 on Along the Great Divide, Walter Brennan made the first of several appearances on Family Theater, a radio series conceived by Father Patrick Peyton, who convinced the Mutual Broadcasting Corporation to air 540 half hour dramas from 1947 to 1957. No commercial interruptions followed what was a short sermon to the effect that the family who prays together stays together. On January 24, 1951, in “A Star for Helen,” Brennan played a janitor, Mr. Brannigan, a man of devout faith, who provides comfort and counsel to a young girl, Helen Jackson, coping with her mother’s alcoholism. Not all Family Theater dramas had a religious message. On May 16, he starred in an adaptation of the Bret Harte story, “The Luck of Roaring Camp,” on March 5, 1952, in “The Land of Sunshine,” and on October 8 in “Mail Order Missus.

Clemens’s loss was literature’s gain. Forced to earn his daily bread once more, he turned to mining in the Mother Lode country. He found little gold, but gathered impressions and experiences. He met Bret Harte, and guessed that if Harte could make money from stories about the gold country, so could he. He proved himself right with a tale about a jumping-frog contest in Calaveras County, which won him a wide and enthusiastic national readership.

I was recognized as being an artist and a storyteller. If Hulk Hogan was the Elvis of wrestling, I was the Robert De Niro.

The gray mist was rising slowly from the river, clinging to the tree-tops and drifting up the mountain-side, until it was caught among those rocky altars, and held a sacrifice to the ascending sun.

these past months have been hard on me and I’m quite confused—physically, mentally and emotionally drained. I feel like a wounded animal stuck with spears, staggering around aimlessly. . . . I keep going on like there is nothing wrong. Sooner or later I will break. I want to break, to let it go in an agonizing wail—but I just can’t seem to let it out.

Bruce, on the other hand, was sometimes too clever for his own good. He was a tremendous influence on me, teaching me all about sports, Mickey Mantle, Babe Ruth, Johnny Unitas and Gordie Howe.

And so in mountain solitudes — o'ertaken As by some spell divine — Their cares dropped from them like the needles shaken From out the gusty pine.

On October 29, I drove to Fort Wayne, Indiana, with Kerry Von Erich, another of Fritz Von Erich’s sons. Kerry was a big, handsome, well-built kid with a kind streak a mile wide who wouldn’t think twice about giving you the shirt off his back. I loved how genuine and considerate he was, especially to the fans.

There was commotion in Roaring Camp. It could not have been a fight, for in 1850 that was not novel enough to have called together the entire settlement.

A fire of withered pine boughs added sociability to the gathering. By degrees the natural levity of Roaring Camp returned. Bets were freely offered and taken regarding the result. Three to five that "Sal would get through with it;" even that the child would survive; side bets as to the sex and complexion of the coming stranger. In the midst of an excited discussion an exclamation came from those nearest the door, and the camp stopped to listen. Above the swaying and moaning of the pines, the swift rush of the river, and the crackling of the fire rose a sharp, querulous cry,-a cry unlike anything heard before in the camp. The pines stopped moaning, the river ceased to rush, and the fire to crackle. It seemed as if Nature had stopped to listen too.

As the escort disappeared, their pent-up feelings found vent in a few hysterical tears from the Duchess, some bad language from Mother Shipton, and a Parthian volley of expletives from Uncle Billy. The philosophic Oakhurst alone remained silent. He listened calmly to Mother Shipton's desire to cut somebody's heart out, to the repeated statements of the Duchess that she would die in the road, and to the alarming oaths that seemed to be bumped out of Uncle Billy as he rode forward.

Mr. Oakhurst did not drink. It interfered with a profession which required coolness, impassiveness, and presence of mind, and, in his own language, he "couldn't afford it." As he gazed at his recumbent fellow exiles, the loneliness begotten of his pariah trade, his habits of life, his very vices, for the first time seriously oppressed him.

Whether Mr. Oakhurst had cached his cards with the whiskey as something debarred the free access of the community, I cannot say. It was certain that, in Mother Shipton's words, he "didn't say 'cards' once" during that evening.

The luck gives in first. Luck," continued the gambler reflectively, "is a mighty queer thing. All you know about it for certain is that it's bound to change. And it's finding out when it's going to change that makes you. We've had a streak of bad luck since we left Poker Flat,-you come along, and slap you get into it, too. If you can hold your cards right along you're all right.