Metallica Quotes

I went down like a drunken cowgirl trying to line dance to Metallica.

Boredom comes from a boring mind.

An angry man in cinema is Batman. An angry male musician is a member of Metallica. An angry male writer is Chekhov. An angry male politician is passionate, a revolutionary. He is a Donald Trump or a Bernie Sanders. The anger of men is a powerful enough tide to swing an election. But the anger of women? That has no place in government, so it has to flood the streets.

Arrogance and ignorance go hand in hand.

Life is ours we live it our way

Look to the sky just before you die, cause it's the last time you'll ever see it.

It's all fun and games until someone loses an eye. Then it's fun and games you can't see anymore.

How can I be lost, if I've got nowhere to go?

It wasn't enough for Megadeth to do well; I wanted Metallica to fail.

I went there anyway-knowingly, willingly-because I wanted a number one hit. I wanted what Metallica had, even if it meant selling a piece of my soul to the devil.

Life it seems will fade away/ Drifting further every day/ Getting lost within myself/ Nothing matters, no one else/

Judge not lest ye be judged yourself.

The only solution for female anger is for her to stop being angry. And yet, when Jesus flipped tables in the temple, his rage was lauded. King David railing to the heavens to rain fire on his enemies is lauded as a man after God’s own heart. An angry man in cinema is Batman. An angry male musician is a member of Metallica. An angry male writer is Chekhov. An angry male politician is passionate, a revolutionary. He is a Donald Trump or a Bernie Sanders. The anger of men is a powerful enough tide to swing an election. But the anger of women? That has no place in government, so it has to flood the streets.

Trust I seek and I find in you

It's a good feeling, that you can put your heart out there, no matter how black it is, and people can understand it.

Emptiness is filling me To the point of agony/ Growing darkness taking dawn/ I was me but now he's gone/

Then it all crashes down And you break your crown And you point your finger But there's no one around

So close no matter how far Couldn't be much more from the heart ... and nothing else matters

The Hammer Of Justice Crushes You

Darkness/Imprisoning Me/All That I See/Absolute Horror/I Cannot Live/I Cannot Die/Trapped In Myself/Body My Holding Cell

‎"Every breath I take becomes deeper, and I become more confident of myself without my crutches. The lies I've filled my body and soul with aren't needed anymore. They're not welcome. I choose to live, not just exist." -

You could hear the stereo from the downstairs neighbors just fine. They were playing Metallica. Playing isn't really the right verb for Metallica, I guess. Grinding, maybe. Extruding.

I noticed that you take your anger out on your guitar," I said finally. "Like, when i ate a bowl of your cereal, you went in your room and started playing like you were in Metallica or something." "Actually, it was Alice Cooper.

How could he know this new dawn's light would change his life forever? Set sail to sea, but pulled off course by the light of golden treasure.

Open mind for a different view and nothing else matters.

So close no matter how far ,couldn't be much more from the heart,forever trusting who we are and nothing else matters

And the Earth Becomes my Throne I adapt to the Unknown Under Wandering Stars I've grown I ask no one.

You Know, I Think I Hung My Tool T-Shirt Next To My Metallica T-Shirt And They Don't Really Get Along.

I let that swim around in my aching head for a few minutes - "the arsenal of megadeath...the arsenal of megadeath" - and then, for some reason I can't quite explain, I began to write. Using a borrowed pencil and a cupcake wrapper, I wrote the first lyrics of my post-Metallica life. This song was called "Megadeth" (I dropped the second "a"), and though it would never find its way onto an album, it did serve as the basis for the song "Set the World Afire." It hadn't occured to me then that Megadeth-as used by Senator Cranston, megadeath referred to the loss of one million lives as a result of nuclear holocaust-might be a perfectly awesome name for a thrash metal band.

DIE MOTHERFUCKER DIE!

Swallow future Spit out hope Burn your face Upon the chrome

Wish I might, Wish I may You wish your life away are you pacified? All the wants you waste All the things you chased

THE SOUNDTRACK OF WES AND LIZ Someone Like You | Van Morrison Paper Rings | Taylor Swift Lovers | Anna of the North ocean eyes | Billie Eilish Bad Liar | Selena Gomez Public Service Announcement (Interlude) | Jay-Z Up All Night | Mac Miller How Would You Feel (Paean) | Ed Sheeran Hello Operator | The White Stripes Paradise | Bazzi Sabotage | Beastie Boys Feelin’ Alright | Joe Cocker Someone Like You | Adele Monkey Wrench | Foo Fighters Bella Luna | Jason Mraz Forrest Gump | Frank Ocean Electric (feat. Khalid) | Alina Baraz Kiss | Tom Jones Enter Sandman | Metallica Death with Dignity | Sufjan Stevens We Are Young | fun. feat. Janelle Monáe New Year’s Day | Taylor Swift River | Joni Mitchell

And, you know, whenever you check yourself into rehab, they don't focus on, you know, the fact that you're an alcoholic. They go much deeper, you know? I mean, they go way deep. They crack you open and then spill you out and examine all the things that are on the table.

Then I pace the floor, rocking him softly in my arms, patting his ass. You know I must be really desperate—because I try singing: Hush, little baby, don’t say a word Daddy’s gonna buy you a . . . I stop—because why the fuck would any baby want a mockingbird? None of those nursery rhymes make any goddamn sense. I don’t know any other lullabies, so I go for the next best thing, “Enter Sandman” by Metallica: Take my hand, We’re off to never-never land . . .

No more can they keep us in Listen, damn it, we will win They see it right, they see it well But they think this saves us from our hell

Never cared for what they say Never cared for games they play Never cared for what they do Never cared for what they know

Fear of living on Natives getting restless now Mutiny in the air Got some death to do Mirror stares back hard Kill, it's such a friendly word Seems the only way For reaching out again.

What, then, can we conclude about the moral value of Metallica's music? In light of our discussion, it is decidedly mixed. Insofar as it has the potential to arouse negative emotions that lead to destructive behavior, it is morally damaging. Insofar as it helps purge us of destructive emotions, it is morally beneficial. And, insofar as it engages our imaginative empathy and gets us to think more clearly and deeply about controversial issues, it is morally edifying. So, while Metallica is unquestionably a monster of a rock band, it is far from obvious that they are some kind of monster.

Welcome to where time stands still No one leaves and no one will Moon is full, never seems to change Just labeled mentally deranged Dream the same thing every night I see our freedom in my sight No locked doors, No windows barred No things to make my brain seem scarred

Sleep my friend and you will see That dream is my reality They keep me locked up in this cage Can't they see it's why my brain says Rage

I wanted to watch a movie or listen to some music, so I did both. I put on a DVD of The Wizard of Oz and a CD of Metallica’s Ride the Lightning. IT TURNS OUT THAT WHEN YOU PLAY THEM BOTH TOGETHER, YOU GET ALL THE ANSWERS.

I just treat it like I do all my other interests in my life. I don’t like any whole thing. I like individual things. I really love one thing in particular to the exclusion of all other things that are even similar. Heavy metal? Depends. Metallica? YES!

Counting Crows—“Colorblind” David Gray—“This Year’s Love” Bon Jovi—“In These Arms” Westlife—“World of Our Own” Eagle-Eye Cherry—“Save Tonight” Metallica—“Tuesday’s Gone” Snow Patrol—“Run” The Verve—“Lucky Man” HIM—“Wicked Game” The La’s—“There She Goes

Quest'uomo, meglio conosciuto sotto il nome di Tigre della Malesia, che da dieci anni insanguinava le coste del mar malese, poteva avere trentadue o trentaquattro anni. Era alto di statura, ben fatto, con muscoli forti come se fili d'acciaio vi fossero stati intrecciati, dai lineamenti energici, l'anima inaccessibile a ogni paura, agile come una scimmia, feroce come la tigre delle jungla malesi, generoso e coraggioso come il leone dei deserti africani. Aveva una faccia leggermente abbronzata e di una bellezza incomparabile, resa truce da una barba nera, con una fronte ampia, incorniciata da fuligginosi e ricciuti capelli che gli cavedano con pittoresco disordine sulle robuste spalle. Due occhi di una fulgidezza senza pari, che magnetizzavano, attiravano, che ora diventavano melanconici come quelli di una fanciulla, e che ora lampeggiavano e schizzavano come fiamme. Due labbra sottili, particolari agli uomini energici, dalle quali, nei momenti di battaglia, usciva una voce squillante, metallica, che dominava il rombo dei cannoni, e che talvolta si piegavano a un melanconico sorriso, che a poco a poco diventava un sorriso beffardo fino al punto di trovare il sorriso della Tigre della Malesia, quasi assaporasse allora il sangue umano. Da dove mai era uscito questo terribile uomo, che alla testa di duecento tigrotti, non meno intrepidi di lui, aveva saputo in poco volger d'anni farsi una fama sì funesta? Nessuno lo avrebbe potuto dire. I suoi fidi stessi lo ignoravano, come ignoravano pure chi egli fosse.

Build my fear of what's out there And cannot breathe the open air Whisper things into my brain Assuring me that I'm insane They think our heads are in their hands But violent use brings violent plans Keep him tied, it makes him well He's getting better, can't you tell?

Pepper remembered a quote he’d read once, it was attributed to James Hetfield, the lead singer of Metallica. Hetfield was asked the difference between himself and Sting. (Why that comparison? Who can say?) Hetfield said the difference between him and Sting was that he read a lot of books, too, but he didn’t need you to know that.

Life is ours, we live it our way.

I hunt therefore I am.

For the authors it has been an excursion into the world of a ‘family’ that at times resembles a mafia organisation, occasionally a cult, and often the coolest gang in the world.

I am the view I am the table I am the view I am the table

Yeah!

Since there are always talented players in these emerging categories, no matter how grating they may be to the ear of the more traditionally inclined, I was not surprised when the heavy metal band Metallica achieved a style that was huge and orchestral in its guitar textures, showing itself to be perfectly capable of producing beautiful melodies with unusual, finely constructed harmonies.

Fucking Hallmark never wrote anything for how I felt then. When Metallica and the rest of the metal community pitched in to pay for Acrassicauda, the Iraqi heavy metal band, to move to the US is the only thing that comes close. And maybe the late-breaking success of Anvil. I had a toasty heart, especially after I got called back to pick up first prize for Miss Frizz. Ah, never mind. You know what I'm saying.

There are many arts and sciences of which a miner should not be ignorant. First there is Philosophy, that he may discern the origin, cause, and nature of subterranean things; for then he will be able to dig out the veins easily and advantageously, and to obtain more abundant results from his mining. Secondly there is Medicine, that he may be able to look after his diggers and other workman ... Thirdly follows astronomy, that he may know the divisions of the heavens and from them judge the directions of the veins. Fourthly, there is the science of Surveying that he may be able to estimate how deep a shaft should be sunk ... Fifthly, his knowledge of Arithmetical Science should be such that he may calculate the cost to be incurred in the machinery and the working of the mine. Sixthly, his learning must comprise Architecture, that he himself may construct the various machines and timber work required underground ... Next, he must have knowledge of Drawing, that he can draw plans of his machinery. Lastly, there is the Law, especially that dealing with metals, that he may claim his own rights, that he may undertake the duty of giving others his opinion on legal matters, that he may not take another man's property and so make trouble for himself, and that he may fulfil his obligations to others according to the law.

D’Agata non aveva tempo di sognare, perché era ossessionato dal terrore delle cimici. Queste incomode compagne non piacevano a nessuno, naturalmente; ma tutti avevamo finito col farci l’abitudine. Non erano poche e sparse, ma un esercito compatto, che col sopraggiungere della primavera aveva invaso tutti i nostri giacigli: stavano annidate di giorno nelle fenditure dei muri e delle cuccette di legno, e partivano in scorreria non appena cessava il tramestio del giorno. A cedere loro una piccola porzione del nostro sangue, ci saremmo rassegnati di buon grado: era meno facile abituarsi a sentirle correre furtive sul viso e sul corpo, sotto gli abiti. Potevano dormire tranquilli solo quelli che avevano la fortuna di godere di un sonno pesante, e che riuscivano a cadere nell’incoscienza prima che quelle altre si risvegliassero. D’Agata, che era un minuscolo, sobrio, riservato e pulitissimo muratore siciliano, si era ridotto a dormire di giorno, e passava le notti appollaiato sul letto, guardandosi intorno con occhi dilatati dall’orrore, dalla veglia e dall’attenzione spasmodica. Teneva stretto in mano un aggeggio rudimentale, che si era costruito con un bastoncello e un pezzo di rete metallica, e il muro accanto a lui era coperto di una lurida costellazione di macchie sanguigne. In principio queste sue abitudini erano state derise: aveva forse la pelle più fina di noi altri? Ma poi la pietà aveva prevalso commista con una traccia di invidia; perché, fra tutti noi, D’Agata era il solo il cui nemico fosse concreto, presente, tangibile, suscettibile di essere combattuto, percosso, schiacciato contro il muro.

And because of this, in a rare intimate interview in 2003, a tearful Mustaine admitted that he couldn’t help but still consider himself a failure. Despite all that he had accomplished, in his mind he would always be the guy who got kicked out of Metallica. We’re apes. We think we’re all sophisticated with our toaster ovens and designer footwear, but we’re just a bunch of finely ornamented apes. And because we are apes, we instinctually measure ourselves against others and vie for status. The question is not whether we evaluate ourselves against others; rather, the question is by what standard do we measure ourselves?

Here’s a valuable lesson I’ve learned from working as a music journalist for nearly twenty years: if given the choice between interviewing a hip, up-and-coming musician and interviewing a past-his-prime has-been, take the has-been every single time. Some of my favorite interviews ever are with artists whose music I don’t even like. I’m talking about the time that Poison guitarist C. C. DeVille told me about how he used to drink paint thinner when he ran out of booze. Or when Kip Winger told me he still hates Lars Ulrich for throwing a dart at a Winger poster in Metallica’s “Nothing Else Matters” video. Has-beens have nothing to lose, whereas younger, hipper artists must think politically, as being candid can hurt you in the long run.

Unfortunately, the band he was kicked out of was Metallica, which has sold over 180 million albums worldwide. Metallica is considered by many to be one of the greatest rock bands of all time. And because of this, in a rare intimate interview in 2003, a tearful Mustaine admitted that he couldn’t help but still consider himself a failure. Despite all that he had accomplished, in his mind he would always be the guy who got kicked out of Metallica. We’re apes. We think we’re all sophisticated with our toaster ovens and designer footwear, but we’re just a bunch of finely ornamented apes. And because we are apes, we instinctually measure ourselves against others and vie for status. The question is not whether we evaluate ourselves against others; rather, the question is by what standard do we measure ourselves?

They started calling people my grandfather’s age “generation ink”. He represents the era when extensive tattoos tipped into the mainstream. Now the old men and women sit together in the lounge room of my grandfather’s nursing home, watching daytime television. They don’t watch sport. Tattoos from their wrist to shoulders and across their chest, snake beneath their woolen cardigans and cotton shirts. Withered souls eternally painted in often incomprehensible scrawling. Faded colours. But that’s not to say that they regret getting inked. Far from it. It’s a part of who they are. As real and as precious as the blank skin they were born with. Their tastes in music haven’t mellowed either. They slowly approach the sound-system, leaning on their walking frame, and skip to songs by Pantera and Sepultura. Or Metallica, Slayer and Iron Maiden. My grandfather enjoyed punk and post-rock bands like Millencolin, Thursday, Coheed and Cambria or At The Drive-In.

Bobby conjured up something that scared him to death and he ran out of the house and never came back. Of course you’re supposed to close those doors but they never did… I found these cards dating back to the Salem witch trials that were at a house in New York where we lived with Raven, and they were covered in human blood. They were horrifying. I took about ten of them and they almost destroyed my life…The toilets flushed black and there was infestation of flies. Objects were flying off the counters at us. The house smelled like Rosewater Lavender, which was an old cologne people used in the 1600’s. We would tell the spirit to leave but it would go into another room. I was someone who didn’t believe in any of this and in two weeks I had to become an expert or it would have killed me and my son. Finally I found out who it was, what it was and I had to return it to Salem. Since then it has been a process of getting rid of the residual effects. I had an exorcism done several times….I am a very religious person because of it today. I won’t go into it any further but I will say that Cliff Burton of Metallica had the other half of the artifacts that I had and I really believe they killed him

A surprisingly large majority of people are quite happy to be fed a steady diet of music chosen by others, but there is a small minority who really don’t like it. These naysayers are concentrated in one social group—males over the age of forty, or, to use their more technical appellation, grumpy middle-aged men. The psychologist’s best guess as to why we grumpy middle-aged men don’t like background music is that we are used to having control over things around us.17 We don’t like it when we can’t choose, so we get tetchy and disagreeable, and we don’t like shoe shops anyway, so the irritating music gives us a good excuse to stalk off to the nearest pub.

Despite taking a horrible event in his life and making something positive out of it, as Mustaine did with Megadeth, his choice to hold on to Metallica’s success as his life-defining metric continued to hurt him decades later.

Cliff was the backbone. Cliff was the guy that everybody looked to. If there was a big decision to be made it was done in the inner workings. But it seemed to me, if there was something Cliff wasn't gonna like, it wasn't gonna happen. Cliff was the Keith Richards of the band. No one fucked with Cliff.

Black Sabbath’s self-titled debut album stands as a death knell for the idealistic hippie dreams of the Sixties. Inspired by horror movies, bad dreams, drug come-downs and the terminal grind of the factory floor, it was designed to unnerve and unsettle

Mustaine and Hetfield were like two brothers that didn’t get on, each pushing the other out of the way, but it was so exciting. There’s certain bands where the minute you see them, you just know they’re going to go all the way.’ In the early hours of October 19, Russell placed a phone call to his bosses at Kerrang! ‘In ten years’ time,’ he told them, ‘this will be the biggest band on the planet.

Metallica are too proud to dress up; their uniform is the uniform of their average fan, the teenage American slob: sneakers, ripped jeans, T-shirts.

Interviewed twenty-seven years and three days after the recording of Master of Puppets began, today it seems as if its producer’s abiding memory of the entire process is that of watching James Hetfield track one devilishly precise rhythm guitar part on top of another. ‘I’ve never seen anything like that since,’ he says. ‘And neither do I expect to.

Inside the studio walls the alpha male personalities of James Hetfield and Lars Ulrich battled for territory, their sometimes discordant creative visions coalescing to the point where no aspect of the music being made was left unexamined or unsubjected to alternative methods of interpretation. The pair were learning that in order that an instrument in a song be emphasised, by definition another instrument must be de-emphasised, thus beginning a battle between guitarist and drummer, the energy from which would fuel the group for years to come.

Lars Ulrich decided that if he were going to be hung it may as well be for stealing a sheep as a lamb:

left to navigate the treacherous stairs of the Ritz and have a moment of peace. I get to my dressing room, and there are these three wankers with mullets drinking my beer. I said, “How did you get down here?” and they said, “We’re Metallica.” And then they turned away from me. I said, “Okay, this is my dressing room. Why are you still here? Scramtallica.” They told me to fuck off, which was the wrong thing to do. I grabbed my deli tray, looked at these arrogant fuckers, and

Metallica’s “Nothing Else Matters” fills the space as the room becomes silent.

And you're quite sure about this video game thing?" Jay looked and sounded skeptical. "She is a princess." Sylvie snorted. "So her personal hobbies ought to be---what? Practicing ribbon-cutting? Swanning around St. Giles unveiling makeshift plaques? The girl walks her pit bull in a Metallica T-shirt, and showed up to the Easter service at the Abbey wearing a skull necklace. Gamer princess seems entirely on brand.

Quinn wore an oversized Metallica T

ONE TREANT TO BLOOM THE LEAFLET TO MANY : JM EVERY BOOK TURNS THE PAGE : METALLICA

solipsism

insouciance,

maudlin

alacrity,

amorphous

furore,

diffident

mewling.

opprobrium

spurious.

invective

venally

loquacious

apotheosis,

aegis,

prescient.

incongruent

During the murder investigation, police would remove boxes of Metallica and Slayer T-shirts and Stephen King books from the trailers where Damien Echols and Jason Baldwin lived, proof they would submit, of the pair’s satanic leanings. Jason Baldwin would later ask why the officers did not take any of his white T-shirts as evidence.

Mustaine’s metric of being better than Metallica likely helped him launch an incredibly successful music career. But that same metric later tortured him in spite of his success.

Old Will reminds me of a twentieth-century Rip Van Winkle who fell asleep at the end of the Vietnam War only to wake up two decades later in a mosh pit at a Metallica concert.

Okay, okay, I’ll tell you…” They both wait expectantly as I try to make myself look meek and broken, even letting tears fill my eyes, real ones from the hurt. Sucking in another painful breath, my ribs protesting, I belt out, “And I will always love you…” Andrew flinches from how loud I sing. He backhands me again, cutting me off mid-song, so I spit the blood out and spin back to him. “No? Not feeling it? What about some Metallica? No, what about Tay-Tay? You look like a secret Swifty fan!

Zach’s Fanfare #2” (MFSB)* “Comeback Kid” (Sleigh Bells) “Monkey Gone to Heaven” (The Pixies) “Spaceman” (Harry Nilsson) “Going Down” (Freddie King) “I’m Bad” (Rocket to Memphis) “Pumped Up Kicks” (Foster the People) “Nobody Does It Better” (Me First and the Gimme Gimmes) “Skull & Crossbones” (Sparkle Moore & Dan Belloc and His Orchestra) “Switchblade Smiles” (Kasabian) “I Wanna Destroy You” (The Soft Boys) “Drain You” (Foxy Shazam) “T.O.R.N.A.D.O.” (The Go! Team) “Woman of Mass Destruction” (The Woolly Bandits) “Tough Lover” (Nick Curran and the Lowlifes) “(I’m Stuck in a Pagoda With) Tricia Toyota” (The Dickies) “Apache” (The Sugarhill Gang) “For Whom the Bell Tolls” (Metallica) “We All Go Back to Where We Belong” (R.E.M.) “Change Reaction” (David Uosikkinen) “Satellite” (The Hooters) “Fanfare for Rocky” (Bill Conti)*

The idea,’ admits Ulrich, ‘was to cram Metallica down everybody’s fucking throat all over the fucking world.

With appetites whetted by the release of the album’s lead-off single ‘Enter Sandman’ earlier that same week, on the evening of Saturday August 3, 1991, no fewer than 10,000 people convened on 7th Avenue in order to be the first to hear the fruits of Metallica’s labours. Among this number were the members of that summer’s other most celebrated band: Nirvana.

So far so “Fuck you”.