Opponent Lovers Quotes

I look coolly in to the blue eyes of the person who is now my greatest opponent, the person who would keep me alive at his own expense. And I promise myself I will defeat his plan.

Often, conducting a dialogue with inner “opponents”—usually forms of the immature masculine energies—will defuse much of their power. What they—like all children—really want is to be noticed, honored, and taken seriously. And they have a right to be. Once they are honored, and their feelings validated, they no longer need to act out through our lives.

Sometimes people don't get sick from bacteria or a virus- -living organisms alien to the human body- -but from the human brain itself. Our brains can be our worst enemy, our cruelest opponent.

Love is the great intangible. In our nightmares, we can create beasts out of pure emotion. Hate stalks the streets with dripping fangs, fear flies down narrow alleyways on leather wings, and jealousy spins sticky webs across the sky. In daydreams, we can maneuver with poise, foiling an opponent, scoring high on fields of glory while crowds cheer, cutting fast to the heart of an adventure. But what dream state is love? Frantic and serene, vigilant and calm, wrung-out and fortified, explosive and sedate –love commands a vast army of moods. Hoping for victory, limping from the latest skirmish, lovers enter the arena once again. Sitting still, we are as daring as gladiators.

The word 'philosopher' means 'lover of wisdom.' Also there is a Greek word to describe the philosopher's opponent: that word is 'philodoxer,' meaning 'lover of opinion'--that is, an opinionated man suffering from vain wishes, who passionately pursues illusion. Out of the doxa, the false opinion fanatically held, comes disorder in the soul and disorder in the body politic.

It is axiomatic that men who know little are often intolerant of a point of view that is contrary to their own. The bitterness that has been brought about by arguments on public questions is proverbial. Lovers have been parted by bitter quarrels on theories of pacificism or militarism; and when an argument upon an abstract question engages opponents they often desert the main line of arguments in order to abuse each other.

Even though this duel has broken no rules, it’s not ben clean,” she said. “You began a brawl. Society will murmur its disapproval even before Ronan and Jess destroy your reputation.” “Society will disapprove of me?” Irex sneered. “Your reputation is not so lily white. Slave-lover.” Kestrel wobbled on her feet. It took her a moment to speak, and when she did, she wasn’t sure that what she said was true. “Whatever people say about me, my father will be your enemy.” Irex’s face was still sharp with hate, but he said, “Very well. You can live.” His voice became hesitant. “Did you tell the general about Faris?” Kestrel thought of her letter to her father. It had been simple. I have challenged Lord Irex to a duel, it had said. It will take place on his grounds today, two hours before sunset. Please come. “No. That would have defeated my purpose.” Irex gave Kestrel a look, one that she had seen before on the faces of her opponents in Bite and Sting. “Purpose?” he said warily. Kestrel felt triumph surge through her, stronger even than the pain in her knee. “I want my father to believe that I’ve legitimately won this duel. You are about to lose. You’ll throw the match, and give me a clear victory.” She smiled. “I want first blood, Irex. My father is watching. Make this look good.

First, I assessed their combat skills. Aeneas performed surprisingly well for a son of Aphrodite; I expected him to be a lover, not a fighter, and yet he actually knew how to use his sword as a sword rather than as a fashion accessory. The other demigods had some work to do. Atalanta seemed to think all training matches had to be fought to the death. She also referred to her classmates as dirty, stupid men, which made team-building difficult. Achilles spent his entire time in combat defending his right heel, an unusual manoeuvre that baffled me until I found out about his childhood dip in the River Styx. I tried to tell the boy to wear iron-shod boots rather than sandals, but he simply wouldn’t listen. As for Asclepius, in one-on-one melees he had an off-putting habit of darting in and feeling his opponent’s forehead for signs of fever.

True affection neither dies nor can be wiped out from the heart and mind of a lover regardless of distance, culture, believings, language, high or low ranking, and opponents.

One sided love is the only game, where there is no opponent, still the opponent wins the game and lover lose the game. © Deepak Gupta

We as an English-speaking people can’t not eat our dead—our language loves a cannibal. We don’t just win at sports, we kill the other team; we demolish them; we devour our opponents. To express our appreciation for a baby’s cuteness, we say we could eat her up. When we have sex, we ravish our lovers, nibble their ears, lick their vulvas, or swallow their cocks. Gleeful, we banquet on flesh.

1892 is not only an ordinary date, but it is the time of existence of a football giant, a rare legend of the 21st century that does not smell of blood and tears. It is the date of birth of a team which wrote a history that not only must be read, but must also be memorized. A little after its foundation, it became the nightmare of first the Premier League clubs and then other clubs around the World. There was no team it didn’t defeat and no fun group it didn’t upset. Within 125 years, it won 18 league championships, 5 European cups, 7 FA cups, 8 league cups, 3 UEFA Super Cups, 15 Charity Shield Cups, ve 3 FA Youth Cups. As the club began to win cups, it got richer and its support group expanded. It conquered the hearts of about 600 million people around the World, its name and its song was chanted everyday by its supporters. Joy and sorrow, night and day, death and life always follow each other like victory and defeat. By the early 1990s the ship began to leak. Its popularity diminished around the World as it weakened and its opponents strengthened. That made its management hopeless, its supporters sad and its players pressured. Infrequent derby victories became only a consolation and past memories and childish dreams became the only sanctuary for its supporters. However its love has never ceased and will not. Because it is not only a football team, it is an excitement, a desire for victory, a passion, a love. Yes, it is a love, a red-white love. And this book is a message thrown into the ocean of the future within a bottle to highlight the expectations and dreams of lovers of red-white colors. Will the bottle reach the shore, will anyone read its message, will the message mean anything for the people? No one can predict this.

True affection neither die nor can be wiped out from the heart and mind of a lover regardless of distance, culture, believing, language, high or low ranking and opponents.