Bros For Life Quotes

We've searched our database for all the quotes and captions related to Bros For Life. Here they are! All 20 of them:

Then Rico said, “Okay, like. No offense, papi. You know I love you. Bros for life, and all that. But did you go a little nuts in your head from the mystical moon magic? Because it seems like you went a little nuts in your head from the mystical moon magic.
T.J. Klune (Ravensong (Green Creek, #2))
I don't like drama in my life, but I do like drama in my books!
Veronica E. Kelly (Bros)
Love and life sure can be scary. But not living your best life, not loving as hard as you can…what a terrible waste that would be.
Kylie Scott (Repeat (Larsen Bros, #1))
It’s how he shows he cares,” he said with a smirk. “One of these days I know he’ll gift me a vision of him tossing me from a cliff Mufasa and Scar style and then I know we’ll be bros for life.
Caroline Peckham (Broken Fae (Ruthless Boys of the Zodiac, #4))
This is all new to me. Every single part of this life is new. And yes, some of it is a little scary sometimes. I get surprised by my own reactions to things sometimes. But that doesn’t mean I want to stop or go backwards … so if you want to stop or step back for your own reasons then ok. But if you’re stopping because I flipped out for a second, then don’t. I’m going to weird out occasionally, please be ok with that.” … “Stay with me, Ed.
Kylie Scott (Repeat (Larsen Bros, #1))
Ultimately, it was Super Mario Bros. that taught me what remains perhaps the most important lesson of my life. ... There is no turning back, only going forward — for Mario and Luigi, for me, and for you. Life only scrolls in one direction, which is the direction of time, and no matter how far we might manage to go, that invisible wall will always be just behind us, cutting us off from the past, compelling us on into the unknown.
Edward Snowden (Permanent Record)
It’s not his girlfriend. It’s Princess Toadstool. And it’s not a gorilla,” I stress. “It’s Lemmy Koopa of the evil Koopa clan. And baby, as usual, you’re missing the point.” “Please enlighten me.” “The whole point of Super Mario Bros. is that it mirrors life.
Bret Easton Ellis (Glamorama)
Leif snorts. “The dude couldn’t recognize the love of his life without her makeup on and a fancy dress. I mean, how great was Charming really?” “You’re talking about Cinderella, I take it?” I laugh. “Yes. It’s a stupid story. Shoe size is a poor indicator for choosing a life partner. Ask anyone.
Kylie Scott (Pause (Larsen Bros, #2))
Ultimately, though, it was Super Mario Bros. that taught me what remains perhaps the most important lesson of my life. I am being perfectly sincere. I am asking you to consider this seriously. Super Mario Bros., the 1.0 edition, is perhaps the all-time masterpiece of side-scrolling games. When the game begins, Mario is standing all the way to the left of the legendary opening screen, and he can only go in one direction: He can only move to the right, as new scenery and enemies scroll in from that side. He progresses through eight worlds of four levels each, all of them governed by time constraints, until he reaches the evil Bowser and frees the captive Princess Toadstool. Throughout all thirty-two levels, Mario exists in front of what in gaming parlance is called “an invisible wall,” which doesn’t allow him to go backward. There is no turning back, only going forward—for Mario and Luigi, for me, and for you. Life only scrolls in one direction, which is the direction of time, and no matter how far we might manage to go, that invisible wall will always be just behind us, cutting us off from the past, compelling us on into the unknown. A small kid growing up in small-town North Carolina in the 1980s has to get a sense of mortality from somewhere, so why not from two Italian-immigrant plumber brothers with an appetite for sewer mushrooms?
Edward Snowden (Permanent Record)
Playing Super Mario Bros. 2 again, in the two-bedroom apartment I share with my wife, is to re-learn the productivity of cussing. Playing any game, for that matter, bends my larynx into the saltiest shapes imaginable. With time comes an understanding that the game on your screen is nothing compared to life’s true challenges. Still, with each fall down a pit or graze of a fireball-spitting plant, my mild-mannered speech pattern gives way to filth. Super Mario Bros. 2 is not even known as a difficult game. But to a player of limited and rusty skills, i.e., your author, it pushes back.
Jon Irwin (Super Mario Bros. 2 (Boss Fight Books Book 6))
In director Guy Ritchie’s entertainingly bumptious movies for Warner Bros., Robert Downey Jr. and Jude Law ricochet around a grimy Victorian-ish London replete with slow-motion fight scenes and massive exploding fireballs. (Watching those movies is like huffing gasified cotton candy, but the world loves them.
Zach Dundas (The Great Detective: The Amazing Rise and Immortal Life of Sherlock Holmes)
Even Bros were oddly sexless, the Disney-faced twins Matt and Luke Goss surely bred to perfection in a Nazi eugenicist’s Petri dish, with their too-ironed shirts and immaculate hair, permanently fragrant in a mist of expensive cologne. The most troubling addiction within Bros was the confectionary compulsion of the non-hunk we dubbed ‘Ken’, a teenager from Kirkcaldy not-
Sylvia Patterson (I'm Not with the Band: A Writer's Life Lost in Music)
And now, in conclusion, may we be permitted to point out the excuse for this book? It is not the story of Rin-Tin-Tin, for, after all, the real story of Rin-Tin-Tin can only be written when he, like all his forbears, goes to the happy hunting grounds. History cannot be written of those who live, only of those who have departed, for then only do we have the true perspective. No, the reason for the book, is the pictures therein, beautiful reproductions of the life of this dog, colored to add to their values. Lovers of Rin-Tin-Tin will love these pictures; lovers of all dogs will appreciate these wonderful reproductions of man's noblest friend. This, then, is the story of Rin-Tin-Tin, merely an outline, a sketch, for the real story is yet to come.
Warner Bros. Productions. (The Story of Rin-Tin-Tin. The Marvelous & Amazing Dog of the Movies.)
Occasionally, Robert would be struck with the anxiety that he wasn’t “living up to his potential,” as his mom put it. He’d miss Julie and her fancy life in New York among the art snobs and finance bros. He didn’t want to be a tennis pro for the rest of his life, did he?
Emma Rosenblum (Bad Summer People)
We walk. Two bodies, two wild separate beings. Sex tingles all through me: the hunger for it, for the joy that is more than just the pleasure of it, or the pride of being desired Of connecting to someone on a profound and pre-human level. Of shredding the skin of your own unutterable separateness. And still: the fear. A face like that - he'd spent his whole life knowing he could get whatever he wanted. Someone so beautiful - his hungers could easily become extreme. He could murder me. Drug me, chain me up in a basement, torture me for ages. Or drunk jock bros could burst out of nowhere to bash us. Cops could bust our heads. But this, too - this fear, this risk - is part of the joy.
Sam J. Miller (Boys, Beasts & Men)
After its section on the decline of feudalism, The Varlet begins a chapter titled “A True Gentleman, the Last Gentle Knight” dedicated to Robert E. Lee. General Lee was president of Washington College (now Washington and Lee) when Kappa Alpha was founded there in 1865, but the order sees him as more than an administrator. “Kappa Alphas have never claimed that Lee was an initiated member of the Order, but they do rejoice that KA was born under the white light of his noble life. Members are immensely proud and honored that his ideals were woven into KA’s soul, and that he is, in a profoundly real sense, our spiritual founder.” According to The Varlet, KAs placed a wreath under his Richmond statue in 1915 and designated him the organization’s spiritual founder in 1923.
Max Marshall (Among the Bros: A Fraternity Crime Story)
Even though he didn’t post on his own social media pages, he commented on his bros’, anxious to reestablish his old friendships, to let them know one little rape charge wouldn’t keep Dylan Charter down. “Working at my dad’s firm,” he said. “Just a holdover job until I finish my degree and get into law school.” He was so confident it would happen—his setback of getting kicked out of college little more than a speed bump in his life’s plans. He was just the kind of guy who would become a lawyer—one who would let more men like him go free. Most likely he’d end up on the Supreme Court.
Erin Flanagan (Blackout)
I’m serious, Ice,” and he hands me his business card. “Call me at Warner Bros. tomorrow. If you’re interested, we’ll get you the script to look at.
Ice-T (Split Decision: Life Stories)
When Warren was a little boy fingerprinting nuns and collecting bottle caps, he had no knowledge of what he would someday become. Yet as he rode his bike through Spring Valley, flinging papers day after day, and raced through the halls of The Westchester, pulse pounding, trying to make his deliveries on time, if you had asked him if he wanted to be the richest man on earth—with his whole heart, he would have said, Yes. That passion had led him to study a universe of thousands of stocks. It made him burrow into libraries and basements for records nobody else troubled to get. He sat up nights studying hundreds of thousands of numbers that would glaze anyone else’s eyes. He read every word of several newspapers each morning and sucked down the Wall Street Journal like his morning Pepsi, then Coke. He dropped in on companies, spending hours talking about barrels with the woman who ran an outpost of Greif Bros. Cooperage or auto insurance with Lorimer Davidson. He read magazines like the Progressive Grocer to learn how to stock a meat department. He stuffed the backseat of his car with Moody’s Manuals and ledgers on his honeymoon. He spent months reading old newspapers dating back a century to learn the cycles of business, the history of Wall Street, the history of capitalism, the history of the modern corporation. He followed the world of politics intensely and recognized how it affected business. He analyzed economic statistics until he had a deep understanding of what they signified. Since childhood, he had read every biography he could find of people he admired, looking for the lessons he could learn from their lives. He attached himself to everyone who could help him and coattailed anyone he could find who was smart. He ruled out paying attention to almost anything but business—art, literature, science, travel, architecture—so that he could focus on his passion. He defined a circle of competence to avoid making mistakes. To limit risk he never used any significant amount of debt. He never stopped thinking about business: what made a good business, what made a bad business, how they competed, what made customers loyal to one versus another. He had an unusual way of turning problems around in his head, which gave him insights nobody else had. He developed a network of people who—for the sake of his friendship as well as his sagacity—not only helped him but also stayed out of his way when he wanted them to. In hard times or easy, he never stopped thinking about ways to make money. And all of this energy and intensity became the motor that powered his innate intelligence, temperament, and skills.
Alice Schroeder (The Snowball: Warren Buffett and the Business of Life)
When you’re a kid,” he said, “time lasts forever. You’re immortal. When your grandparents die, it’s not real. Not yet. Then your parents go, and … well, it’s like there’s no more insurance. You’re next in line. You’re that guy!” He laughed. “The last one standing. The one everyone wants to make sure to see at Christmas, because you never know. You never know. I can see them grieving me even while I’m still here. And there’s a comfort in that. A love. So maybe that’s what you’re giving your father by being here. Even if he doesn’t know it in his brain, he knows it in his cells.” Her throat was dry, and her eyes burned. She folded her hands, staring down at the ridgeline of her knuckles. The man said, “What?” She cleared her throat. “The mourning, it sucks, yeah, but no one tells you…” He kept his gaze steady on her. She forced out the words. “No one tells you how hard it is not to get resentful.” “Accept it,” he said. “If you accept life, you accept all its rich, awful complexities. Because if you think about it, what’s the alternative?” She thought of pork-belly sliders and dude-bros thumbing their phones over dinner and the sweet bullshit promise of demo-targeted advertising. She took the man’s hand, skin draped over bone. “Thank you.
Gregg Andrew Hurwitz (Out of the Dark (Orphan X, #4))