Physical Specimen Quotes

The Missing Tile syndrome is ubiquitous. If you are overweight, all you see are flat stomachs and perfect physical specimens. If you have pimples, all you see is flawless skin. Women who have difficulty getting pregnant walk around seeing only pregnant women and babies. Nor do you need to be overweight, have pimples, be balding, or want a child to believe that you have a missing tile. You can allow any real—or merely perceived—flaw to diminish your happiness.

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! YOU'VE READ ABOUT IT IN THE NEWSPAPERS! NOW, SHUDDER AS YOU OBSERVE, BEFORE YOUR VERY EYES, THAT MOST RAREAND RAGIC OF NATURE'S MISTAKES! I GIVE YOU... THE AVERAGE MAN! PHYSICALLY UNREMARKABLE , IT HAS INSTEAD A DEFORMED SET OF VALUES. NOTICE THE HIDEOUSLY BLOATED SENSE OF HUMANITY'S IMPORTANCE. THE CLUB-FOOTED SOCIAL CONSCIENCE AND THE WITHERED OPTIMISM. IT'S CERTAINLY NOT FOR THE SQUEAMISH IS IT? MOST REPULSIVE OF ALL , ARE ITS FRAIL AND USELESS NOTIONS OF ORDER AND SANITY. IF TOO MUCH WEIGHT IS PLACED UPON THEM... ... THEY SNAP. HOW DOES IT LIVE , I HEAR YOU ASK? HOW DOES THIS POOR, PATHETIC SPECIMEN SURVIVE IN TODAY'S HARSH AND IRRATIONAL WORLD? THE SAD ANSWER IS 'NOT VERY WELL.

She's had a long life. Now she's going to the Lord." "Frankly it creeps me out a little when you say things like that," Simon said. "It shouldn't. If you don't like 'Lord,' pick another word. She's going home. She's going back to the party. Whatever you like." "I suppose you have some definite ideas about an afterlife." "Sure. We get reabsorbed into the earthly and celestial mechanism." "No heaven?" "That's heaven." "What about realms of glory? What about walking around in golden slippers?" "We abandon consciousness as if we were waking from a bad dream. We throw it off like clothes that never fit us right. It's an ecstatic release we're physically unable to apprehend while we're in our bodies. Orgasm is our best hint, but it's crude and minor by comparison.

There is no doubt that to the ancients of circa 100 A.S., games implied bloodshed; but gladiators' hand-to-hand combats to the death featured in Hollywood movies are overdone, since gladiators were splendid physical specimens who took a long time to be selected and trained and were not easily dispensable.

Yes, the pursuit of love and the pursuit of wealth have much in common. Both have the potential to inspire, motivate, uplift and kill. But whereas achieving a massive bank balance demonstrably attracts fine physical specimens desperate to give their love in exchange, achieving love tends to do the opposite. It dampens the fire in the steam furnace of ambition, robbing of essential propulsion an already fraught upriver journey to the heart of financial success.

if readers have a sincere desire to make life miserable for themselves, they might learn to compare themselves to other people. For those unfamiliar with this practice, he provides a few exercises. The first one displays full-length pictures of a man and a woman who embody ideal physical beauty by contemporary media standards. Readers are instructed to take their own body measurements, compare them to those superimposed on the pictures of the attractive specimens, and dwell on the differences.

I am now the site of an unmistakable sag...With fancy holographic belt buckles do I attempt to restrain my stampeding softness. In vain....My only virtues, as a physical specimen, are my sideburns, which are like the pelts of rare woodland animals. My sideburns are not to be ignored.

These are but a few specimens of philosophy which is no longer conscious of its own intrinsic worth, and which sees no higher mission in life for itself than applying the categories of the material to the spiritual, of the physical to the mental, and the spatio-temporal to the eternal.

Justus tried to make an objective assessment of Miguel. What was the big deal with him, anyway? So he was easy on the eyes. Actually that was an understatement; he was for female eyes, a virtual feast. He was a perfect physical specimen, and very sensual. He seemed to positively ooze sex and eroticism with his every move, look, and touch. Justus turned her head toward him to steal a glance at his profile, but he caught her looking at him. His eyes were so arresting, they were a dark, fierce green, like beautiful shining emeralds. She also noticed flecks of gold laced through them, reminiscent of cat’s eyes. Not any ordinary house cat, these were the eyes of a wild predator. He was a panther; with his black hair and green eyes and the way he moved, so gracefully, yet with definite strength and agility. She sighed to herself, so much for her objectivity.

We’re nowhere near young enough for the present war, but when the world war comes—we’ll be just right to fight it. We are, after all, a superb physical specimen. Our feet aren’t flat. Our vision is clear. We’re not clubfooted or Marxist or nuts. We have no conscientious objections or anything of that kind. We’re perfect.

The Christian doctrines, and even the Jewish doctrines which preceded them, have always been statements about spiritual reality, not specimens of primitive physical science. Whatever

You know how much Annie loved pearls. She owned some incomparable specimens…the most marvelous, I believe, that ever existed. You also remember the almost physical joy, the carnal ecstasy, with which she adorned herself with them. Well, when she was sick that passion became a mania with her…a fury, like love! All day long she loved to touch them, caress them and kiss them; she made cushions of them, necklaces, capes, cloaks. Then this extraordinary thing happened; the pearls died on her skin: first they tarnished, little by little…little by little they grew dim, and no light was reflected in their luster any more and, in a few days, tainted by the disease, they changed into tiny balls of ash. They were dead, dead like people, my darling. Did you know that pearls had souls? I think it’s fascinating and delicious. And since then, I think of it every day.

There was one thing she brought up all the time: She wanted to have a child. She talked about that from the beginning. She called me the 'prime physical specimen' for her child. She wouldn't let me wear a condom-NEVER. She wanted to get pregnant really bad. She would send me faxes that said, 'I really want to be with you, I miss you.' Regular stuff like that. But then there were others that said things like, 'I want every drop of your come inside me. I won't let it go because I want to have your baby.

She loved the most popular girls at her middle school—though revered might have been a better word, since a large part of her actually despised them. Still, she was fascinated by them, perhaps due to the fact that, physically, they were her opposite, and thus seemed somehow like specimens she wished to examine, at length, under a microscope.

A new force in pro football, Taylor demanded not just a tactical response but an explanation. Many people pointed to his unusual combination of size and speed. As one of the Redskins’ linemen put it, “No human being should be six four, two forty-five, and run a four-five forty.” Bill Parcells thought Taylor’s size and speed were closer to the beginning than to the end of the explanation. New York Giants’ scouts were scouring the country for young men six three or taller, 240 pounds or heavier, with speed. They could be found. In that pool of physical specimens what was precious—far more precious than an inch, or ten pounds, or one tenth of a second—was Taylor’s peculiar energy and mind: relentless, manic, with grandiose ambitions and private standards of performance.

If man is but a biological organism and biology itself may be reduced to a set of physical and chemical laws, it should be possible to build up a biological science, a kind of biological mechanics, whose laws would rule the working and repair of the several pieces of the human machine. In such a case, there would be a 'medicine' or 'medical science'; and the doctor's task would consist in acquiring and maintaining an adequate knowledge of the laws of such a science and applying them so to speak in a uniform and automatic way, with hardly any meddling from his own personal criterion. If, on the contrary, man is above all an eminently living being, every specimen of which is ever new and original, a being strongly influenced by ultra-physical faculties -- spirit, intellect, emotions -- if, in one word, man is a whole that can only be ruled from its own centre, medicine, then, will be but an art or a craft to be applied in each case to a concrete individual. And then, rather than 'medicine', there will be medicine-men. Truth lies between these two poles, but gravitates definitely towards the second.

If the body is no longer a site of otherness but of identification, then we have urgently to become reconciled with it, repair it, perfect it, turn it into an ideal object. Everyone treats their bodies the way men treat women in projective identification: they invest them as a fetish, making an autistic cult of them, subjecting them to a quasi-incestuous manipulation. And it is the body's resemblance to its model which becomes a source of eroticism and 'white' seduction -- in the sense that it effects a kind of white magic of identity, as opposed to the black magic of otherness. This is how it is with body-building: you get into your body as you would into a suit of nerve and muscle. The body is not muscular, but muscled. It is the same with the brain and with social relations or exchanges: body-building, brainstorming, word-processing. Madonna is the ideal specimen of this, our muscled Immaculate Conception, our muscular angel who delivers us from the weaknesses of the body (pity the poor shade of Marilyn!). The sheath of muscles is the equivalent of character armour. In the past, women merely wrapped themselves in their image and their finery -- Freud speaks of those people who live with a kind of inner mirror, in a fleshly, happy self-reference. That narcissistic ideal is past and gone; body-building has wiped it out and replaced it with a gymnastic Ego-Ideal -- cold, hard, stressed, artificial self-reference. The construction of a double, of a physical and mental identity shell. Thus, in `body simulation', where you can animate your body remotely at any moment, the phantasy of being present in more than one body becomes an operational reality. An extension of the human being. And not a metaphorical or poetic extension, as in Pessoa's heteronyms, but quite simply a technical one.

Such was the pattern employed by the Romans during their centuries of conquest: first, recruit the ablest soldiers from recently pacified local populations overawed by the legionaries’ size, military prowess, technology, and literacy; second, teach the new troops not only to fight but also to read and write Latin (or, in the East, Greek); and last, employ these intellectually and physically impressive specimens to conquer, pacify, overawe, and recruit adjoining peoples.

In Genesis, the trees are understood best in the context of sacred space rather than as isolated trees that happen to be in a garden. Whether interpreters consider them real, physical, floral specimens with the ability to bestow benefits to those who partake, figurative symbols of divine gifts, mythological motifs, or anything else, we must not miss the theological and textual significance that they have. Whether they confer or represent, they provide what is only God’s to give. He is the source of life, which is given by him and found in his presence (Deut 30:11-20). He is the center of order, and wisdom is the ability to discern order. Relationship with God is the beginning of wisdom (Job 28:28; Prov 1:7). Consequently, we make a mistake to think that this is simply about magical trees in a garden paradise. It is about the presence of God on earth and what relationship with him makes available.38

I know you didn't mean to, but you did do it[hurting Daisy]. That's what I get for marrying a brute of a man, a great, big, hulking physical specimen of a -

Because the unique individual cannot reproduce himself either physically or spiritually, nature discards him as useless. Nature is only interested in reproducing, and from time to time throwing out a “sport” or unique specimen. This specimen, not able to reproduce itself, is finished with evolution, and is not interested in making of itself a model for others.

TROPHY HUNTERS, by eliminating the most magnificent specimens of a species, enact reverse selection. It’s the opposite of natural selection. The hunters remove the healthiest and fittest males from the gene pool by targeting the largest bears or the lions with the darkest manes. The same sort of reverse selection has had disastrous consequences for elephants, in which it combines with ivory poaching. In many populations, bulls with large tusks have gone virtually extinct. One of the devastating side-effects has been that young bulls have become unruly and dangerous. In Pilanesberg National Park in South Africa, marauding gangs of juvenile elephant bulls went berserk. Like a blood sport, they began to chase down white rhinoceroses, stomping them with their feet and goring them to death with their tusks. They harassed other animals as well. The park resolved this problem by setting up a Big Brother program. Park staff flew in six full-grown bull elephants from Kruger National Park. Bulls keep growing larger throughout their lives, and the oldest ones often roam with younger bulls in tow. Like warriors in training, the latter follow and watch their mentors. The hyperaggressive state of musth—when testosterone levels increase fifty-fold—is curbed when young bulls are exposed to dominant males. A young bull may lose the physical signs of musth within minutes of being put in his place by a bigger one. At Pilanesberg, hormonal suppression and reduced risk-taking in the presence of intimidating adults made all the difference. After the Big Brother program, signs of random violence disappeared. In previous years, elephants had killed over forty endangered white rhinos. The civilizing influence of older bulls stopped the carnage.

 I expected him to leave, but Ryan stayed put, staring at both of us as if he didn’t like what he saw. And every moment that passed made me more and more uncomfortable. Like he could see into my black, orphaned soul or something.   That and the physical awareness of him made me feel panicky. As did how good he smelled. He hadn’t showered yet, and I should have been turned off by that. I learned once in a biology class that when women are ovulating, they are more attracted to sweaty men. Like their ovaries have magnificent-male-specimen radar.   I had to be ovulating because I kind of wanted to do nothing else but smell him for the rest of my life.   It freaked me out. 

Nennius tells us, what Gildas omits, the name of the British soldier who won the crowning mercy of Mount Badon, and that name takes us out of the mist of dimly remembered history into the daylight of romance. There looms, large, uncertain, dim but glittering, the legend of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. Somewhere in the Island a great captain gathered the forces of Roman Britain and fought the barbarian invaders to the death. Around him, around his name and his deeds, shine all that romance and poetry can bestow. Twelve battles, all located in scenes untraceable, with foes unknown, except that they were heathen, are punctiliously set forth in the Latin of Nennius. Other authorities say, “No Arthur; at least, no proof of any Arthur.” It was only when Geoffrey of Monmouth six hundred years later was praising the splendours of feudalism and martial aristocracy that chivalry, honour, the Christian faith, knights in steel and ladies bewitching, are enshrined in a glorious circle lit by victory. Later these tales would be retold and embellished by the genius of Mallory, Spenser, and Tennyson. True or false, they have gained an immortal hold upon the thoughts of men. It is difficult to believe it was all an invention of a Welsh writer. If it was he must have been a marvellous inventor. Modern research has not accepted the annihilation of Arthur. Timidly but resolutely the latest and best-informed writers unite to proclaim his reality. They cannot tell when in this dark period he lived, or where he held sway and fought his battles. They are ready to believe however that there was a great British warrior, who kept the light of civilisation burning against all the storms that beat, and that behind his sword there sheltered a faithful following of which the memory did not fail. All four groups of the Celtic tribes which dwelt in the tilted uplands of Britain cheered themselves with the Arthurian legend, and each claimed their own region as the scene of his exploits. From Cornwall to Cumberland a search for Arthur’s realm or sphere has been pursued.The reserve of modern assertions is sometimes pushed to extremes, in which the fear of being contradicted leads the writer to strip himself of almost all sense and meaning. One specimen of this method will suffice: "It is reasonably certain that a petty chieftain named Arthur did exist, probably in South Wales. It is possible that he may have held some military command uniting the tribal forces of the Celtic or highland zone or part of it against raiders and invaders (not all of them necessarily Teutonic). It is also possible that he may have engaged in all or some of the battles attributed to him; on the other hand, this attribution may belong to a later date." This is not much to show after so much toil and learning. Nonetheless, to have established a basis of fact for the story of Arthur is a service which should be respected. In this account we prefer to believe that the story with which Geoffrey delighted the fiction-loving Europe of the twelfth century is not all fancy. If we could see exactly what happened we should find ourselves in the presence of a theme as well founded, as inspired, and as inalienable from the inheritance of mankind as the Odyssey or the Old Testament. It is all true, or it ought to be; and more and better besides. And wherever men are fighting against barbarism, tyranny, and massacre, for freedom, law, and honour, let them remember that the fame of their deeds, even though they themselves be exterminated, may perhaps be celebrated as long as the world rolls round. Let us then declare that King Arthur and his noble knights, guarding the Sacred Flame of Christianity and the theme of a world order, sustained by valour, physical strength, and good horses and armour, slaughtered innumerable hosts of foul barbarians and set decent folk an example for all time.

It does something to you when you are running close to what you perceive as our limit (back then, I still topped at 40 percent) and there is someone else out there who makes the difficult look effortless. It was obvious that his preparedness was several levels above our own. Captain Connolly did not show up to simply get through the program and graduate so he could collect some wings for his uniform and belong to the unspoken fraternity of supposed badasses at Fort Campbell. He came to explore what he was made of and grow. That required a willingness to set a new standard wherever possible and make a statement, not necessarily to our dumb asses, but to himself. He was respectful to all the instructors and the school, but he was not there to be led... Most people love standards. It gives the brain something to focus on, which helps us reach a place of achievement. Organizational structure and atta' boys from our instructors or bosses keep us motivated to perform and to move up on that bell curve. Captain Connolly did not require external motivation. He trained to his own standard and used the existing structure for his own purposes. Air Assault School became his own personal octagon, where he could test himself on a level even the instructors hadn't imagined. For the next nine days, he put his head down and quietly went about the business of smashing every single standard at Air Assault School. He saw the bar that the instructors pointed to and the rest of us were trying to tap as a hurdle to leap over, and he did it time and again. He understood that his rank only meant something if he sought out a different certification: an invisible badge that says, "I am the example. Follow me, motherfuckers, and I will show you that there is more to this life than so-called authority and stripes or candy on a uniform. I'll show you what true ambition looks like beyond all the external structure in a place of limitless mental growth." He didn't say any of that. He didn't run his mouth at all. I can't recall him uttering word one in ten fucking days, but through his performance and extreme dedication, he dropped breadcrumbs for anybody who was awake and aware enough to follow him. He flashed his tool kit. He showed us what potent, silent, exemplary leadership looked like. He checked into every Gold Group run, which was led by the fastest instructor in that school, and volunteered to be the first to carry the flag... His conditioning was clearly off the charts, and I'm not talking about the physical aspect alone. Being a physical specimen is one thing, but it takes so much more energy to stay mentally prepared enough to arrive every day at a place like Air Assault School on a mission to dominate. The fact that he was able to do that told me it couldn't possibly have been a one-time thing. It had to be the result of countless lonely hours in the gym, on the trails, and in the books. Most of his work was hidden, but it is within that unseen work that self-leaders are made. I suspect the reason he was capable of exceeding any and all standards consistently was because he was dedicated at a level most people cannot fathom in order to stay ready for any and all opportunities. p237

[Plato’s Socrates] agrees with Callicles both that the fundamental problem is the salvation of the superior specimen — the erromenesteros, a term that connotes biological vitality and breeding — from the clutches of nomos and also that achieving rules in the cities is the ultimate means to this salvation. Insofar as he disagrees with Callicles or refutes him, Socrates only does this by showing that he himself is far more liberated from convention, far wilder, far more prone to consider “the way of force” and of physical violence — i.e., he outdoes Callicles in his “tyrannical” political orientation.

Wonderful physical specimens and mentally advanced for their ages as well. Many come from parents with talents in music and art. Blank slates just waiting to be filled. They can become anything you want them to be.

For the first time Mike felt on the downside of life’s roller coaster—the back nine of life, as his golfer friends put it. You know it, of course. When you hit thirty-five or forty, you know on one level that you are no longer the physical specimen you once were. But denial is a pretty powerful thing. Now, at the tender of age of forty-six, he knew that no matter what he did, the slide would not only continue but accelerate. Cheerful thought. The

In ancient Arabia, homosexuality was age-structured, involving bearded, mature men in love with beardless teenagers like you and Albert. The beard is a sign of manhood and masculinity. “Many Arabian poets described the object of their love as an adolescent boy, going to great lengths to describe “desirable” physical features. ●       This ideal young man is always brown and slender. ●       His waist is supple and thin like a willow branch or like a lance. ●       His hair, black as scorpions. ●       The hair that falls on his forehead curls like the Arabic alphabets. ●       His eyes are arcs with hurl arrows. ●       His cheeks are roses. ●       His saliva has the sweetness of honey. ●       Last but not least, his buttocks resemble a dune of moving sand. When he walks, you could call him a young faun. When he is motionless, he eclipses the brightness of the moon.” At this juncture, my professor gave me a beguiling smile, before adding, “You, Young are a perfect specimen of this ideal.

No hot-blooded Arab male can resist this perfect specimen.”               As much as I was flattered by my professor’s remark, I was also flustered by his pronouncement. I had never thought of myself as a personification of an Arab man’s ideal, and never had I consciously considered my physical attributes an object of desire. Although I accepted my amorosity and carnality as parts of my genetic heritage, Victor’s newly bestowed laurel had instilled a sense of pride within my person.               I couldn’t bask in this reverie for long before Andy returned me to reality. “Don’t inculcate this boy with such aptitude. He is already full of himself. Otherwise, his prudency will get the better of him,” my chaperone cautioned.

When you hit thirty-five or forty, you know on one level that you are no longer the physical specimen you once were.

Nordau’s theories gave a new twist to the question of how man’s biological evolution and society’s historical evolution intersected. A fourth and disturbing possibility now presented itself: even healthy human specimens living in advanced civilized society would, unless corrective steps were taken, degenerate into a lesser physical and moral type.

A number of other German race scientists and anthropologists formed the Ring der Norda, which combined the mystical overtones of Bayreuth with the promotion of health and sports to cultivate Teutonic physical specimens. Scientific speculations on the racial future of Germany became infused with a Gobinian pessimism: “Today in Italy, Spain, and Portugal, the Germanic blood, the Nordic race, has already disappeared,” wrote Ploetz in his 1913 textbook Anthropology. “[National] decline, in part, insignificance, is the result…. Then it will be our turn … if things go on as they have and are going today.

Perhaps that distance also “opened up a space” that allowed sailors who were primarily homosexual in orientation to reevaluate their own position vis à vis their country, and to consider embracing a culture that they had been taught to disdain. Sailors who were attractive physical specimens were given a choice early in their captivity: arduous labor or sexual submission. Given what has been discussed regarding the social marginalization of American sailors, given the relaxed attitude toward discreet male-male sexuality aboard ship, given the likelihood that a portion of a ship’s population were endowed with a sexual orientation that inclined them more towards homosexuality, would it not be likely that some of those men might choose a life of sexual servitude to a Muslim master over near certain death working in the quarries or the slave galleys?

Something—his slightly abnormal shortness, I suppose—made me suddenly think that, like many people who abuse their power over others, he had carried into adulthood some ancient sense of himself as a victim. I felt certain that he saw himself as the weaker party here; entitled—even obliged—to use any weapon he could: that he wasn’t so much trying to possess the girl as conducting an ongoing act of defiance against the hand nature had dealt him as a physical specimen; a hand that appeared to have ruled beauty of the order this girl possessed forever out of reach. But although I sympathized with him for this, I held him entirely responsible for what he was doing.

Modern scanning probe instruments will often provide several different modes within the same instrument, including aspects of light microscopy such as near field optical scanning microscopy (NOSM) and micro tools for nanofabrication such as micro-writing devices (nanolithography), indentation probes providing exact positioning and force control, all in a specimen chamber in which both the temperature and gaseous environment can be precisely controlled. This type of scanning probe microscopy has made it possible to investigate a surface phenomenon termed surface plasmon polaritons (SPPs for short), which are surface electromagnetic waves that propagate between the interface of a metal and a dielectric (insulator). More explanation of SPPs would require a VSI on surface physics, but suffice it to say, the scanning plasmon near field microscope has made it possible to work towards practical exploitation in the applications of SPPs (which make it possible to ‘package’ light in smaller quantities than ever before) in optics, data storage, solar cells, chemical cells, and biosensors.

Physically, Ramsay was as fine a specimen as they came. He hadn’t removed his shirt to lie down for bed and still wore a loose linen tunic. The opening at the collar revealed soft, golden brown hair over a broad chest sculpted from hard muscle. And then there was the rest of him. She recalled green tattoos and silver ink against his bronzed skin.

resistance to medical research illustrates an important point regarding the status of experts and the cultural acceptance of progress. The modern medical vision of the body, as an inert and physical specimen, is not intuitively appealing.

feel I have to comment on the comic relief of these flabby old men who fashion themselves the master race. They may not be fine physical specimens, but they’re not fine intellectual specimens either. Nor were they able to rally a good counter rally. But I’m sure your mommies thought you were handsome little boys.

Time wore all of them down, administered harsh lessons in humility to even the finest physical specimens.

Hernandez, on the other hand, was a physical specimen—even at seventeen.