Pig Wrestling Quotes

Never wrestle with pigs. You both get dirty and the pig likes it.

I learned long ago, never to wrestle with a pig, you get dirty; and besides, the pig likes it.

I remembered something my first partner had told me. Never wrestle with a pig, Lindsay. You both get dirty. The pig likes it.

Never wrestle with a pig—because you both get dirty but the pig loves it

Don’t ever wrestle with a pig. You’ll both get dirty, but the pig will enjoy it.

Never wrestle with pigs for the pigs remain clueless and you end up muddy.

Royce saw to his horse’s needs; then, finding a suitable place, he unrolled his blanket and lay down. “I take it we’re camping here, then?” Royce said nothing, still refusing to acknowledge his existence. “You could have said, ‘We’re going to bed down here for the rest of the night.’ No, wait, you’re right, too much. How about ‘sleeping here’? Two words. Even you could manage that, right? I mean, I know you can talk. You had plenty to say back in Arcadius’s office. Couldn’t keep the words from coming out then, but no, utterly impossible to indicate in any way that we’ll be stopping here for the night.” Hadrian dismounted and began unloading Dancer. “How long were we on the road?” He paused to look up at the moon. “What? Five, six hours? Not a damn word. Getting chilly out, don’t you think, Hadrian? Moon looks like a fingernail, ain’t that right, Hadrian? That tree looks like a goddamn bear, don’t it, Hadrian? Nothing. By the way, in case you hadn’t noticed, I was attacked by a goshawk and a pig-riding dwarf that shot eggs at me with a sling. I was knocked from my horse and wrestled with the dwarf, the hawk, and the pig for what had to be half an hour. The dwarf kept smashing eggs in my face, and that ruddy pig pinned me down, licking them off. I only got away because the dwarf ran out of eggs. Then the hawk turned into a moth that became distracted by the light of the moon.” Royce shifted to his side, hood up. “Yeah, well … thank Maribor and Novron I didn’t need your help that time.” “Didn’t care for my help too much in the stable,” Royce said. “It speaks!

Engaging with them (malignant narcissists) alone is futile - never wrestle a pig, as the old saying goes; you both end up covered in shit, and the pig likes it. The fundamental rules of human interaction do not apply to them, although they weaponize those rules against everyone else.

Never wrestle with a pig, Lindsay. You both get dirty. The pig likes it.

I learned a long time ago never to wrestle with a pig. You get dirty and besides, the pig likes it.

Hadrian dismounted and began unloading Dancer. "How long were we on the road?" He paused to look up at the moon. "What? Five, six hours? Not a damn word. Getting chilly out, don't you think, Hadrian? The moon looks like a fingernail, ain't that right, Hadrian? The tree looks like a goddamn bear, don't it, Hadrian? Nothing. By the way, in case you haven't noticed, I was attacked by a goshawk and a pig-riding dwarf that shot eggs at me with a sling. I was knocked from my horse and wrestled with the dwarf, the hawk, and the pig for what had to be half an hour. The dwarf kept smashing eggs in my face, and the ruddy pig pinned me down, licking them off. I only got away because the dwarf ran out of eggs. Then the hawk turned into a moth that became distracted by the light of the moon." Royce shifted to his side, hood up. "Yeah, well...thank Maribor and Novron I didn't need your help THAT time.

As Bill likes to say, never wrestle a pig in the mud.

I don’t believe it. Come on. I wrestled pigs for you. You can give me one dance.

My grandfather used to tell me that when you wrestle a pig, you both get dirty… but the pig likes it.

Don’t ever wrestle with a pig. You’ll both get dirty, but the pig will enjoy it.

Don’t ever wrestle with a pig. You’ll both get dirty, but the pig will enjoy it. - Cale Yarborough

Paul said, “Michael, experience has taught me something very valuable.  I have learned not to wrestle a pig.  You see,” he continued, “there’s only two things that ever happen when you wrestle a pig.  1)  It amuses the pig.  2) You end up getting the mire all over you!” God bless you, Paul.  We no longer wrestle pigs. 

Have you ever wrestled a greased pig? No, me neither. But I could. I could seriously win like the redneck Olympics of greased-pig wrestling because that’s what I do every damn day. At some age babies start to HATE being on the changing table, and the second you get the diaper off they’re basically a rolling pin on a pile of poop. Yo, Darwin, I used to believe your theories, but now I’m starting to think you’re wrong. ’Cause if evolution were really happening, moms would have eight arms. At least. And noses that couldn’t smell.

the question is not “Are you flawed?” It’s “What do you do about your flaws?” Do you learn from your mistakes so you can do and be better in the future? Or do you reject the hard work of self-improvement and instead tear others down so you can assert they’re as bad or worse than you are? I’ve always tried to do the former. And, by and large, so has our country, with our long march toward a more perfect union. But Donald Trump does the latter. Instead of admitting mistakes, he lashes out, demeans, and insults others—often projecting by accusing others of doing what he himself has done or is about to do. So if he knows that the Donald J. Trump Foundation is little more than a personal piggy bank, he’ll turn around and accuse, with no evidence, the well-respected Clinton Foundation of being corrupt. There’s a method to this madness. For Trump, if everyone’s down in the mud with him, then he’s no dirtier than anyone else. He doesn’t have to do better if everyone else does worse. I think that’s why he seems to relish humiliating people around him. And it’s why he must have been delighted when Marco Rubio tried to match him in slinging crude personal insults during the primaries. Of course, it hurt Rubio much more than Trump. As Bill likes to say, never wrestle a pig in the mud. They have cloven hooves, which give them superior traction, and they love getting dirty. Sadly, Trump’s strategy works. When people start believing that all politicians are liars and crooks, the truly corrupt escape scrutiny, and cynicism grows.

It’s like the aphorism “Never wrestle with a pig—you end up dirty, and the pig likes it.

Then he speaks, still staring. “George Bernard Shaw used to say you shouldn’t wrestle with a pig, because you’ll get dirty—” “—and the pig likes it.” “Exactly,” he says. “Exactly.

Rubio’s crass comments did him no favors. Unfair or not, it was accepted that Trump was a boorish bully. People didn’t expect better from him. When Rubio stooped to his level, he looked—no pun intended—small and petty. He undermined his own brand as a fresh-faced, different kind of Republican. He wrestled with a pig and came out of it filthy.

You once told me that bearing a grudge was like mud wrestling with a pig. You both finish up dirty, but only the pig enjoys it.

If he could dehumanize his opponents, why couldn’t we? It calls to mind a famous quote frequently attributed to George Bernard Shaw—and no, this isn’t me making a fat joke—“Don’t wrestle with pigs. You both get filthy and the pig likes it.

you wrestle with a pig you both get dirty, but the pig likes it.

If you wrestle with a pig, you both end up muddy and only the pig is happy,

Arguing with an engineer is like wrestling with a pig in the mud. After a while, you realize the pig likes it.

And she knew that there was no coming back from this. Now, she would forever be known to Jonah as the girl wrestling a pig in the porta-potty.

A lady does not confirm or deny idle gossip; doing so is like wrestling with a pig: you both get dirty, but the pig enjoys it.

In one corner of the large bar room I saw a pit filled with mud and a pig. I watched a buxom, mature woman as she rolled around in this soup, trying to catch a pig that seemed to be more elusive than expected. Squealing the pig escaped from the pit and ran for his life. Everyone joined in trying to catch the critter and eventually some guys did return him to the pit he called home. Picking him up with a mud covered towel the woman and her pig disappeared behind a curtain, only to be replaced by two other women who started wrestling each other. It was an expected typically crude performance that everyone seemed to enjoy. After finishing my overpriced beer I hightailed out of there and took the city rapid transit back to the ship.

I can’t think of a better way to describe what it feels like to try and get your head and heart around who you are and where you come from than wrestling a greased pig in the dark. Our identities are always changing and growing, they’re not meant to be pinned down. Our histories are never all good or all bad, and running from the past is the surest way to be defined by it. That’s when it owns us. The key is bringing light to the darkness—developing awareness and understanding.

Just like there will always be bosses who are rude, haughty and arrogant. One cannot change them. Trying to get the better of them will only be like, to use an old saying, ‘wrestling with a pig’.At the end of it, you both are exhausted and filthy and the pig actually enjoys it. We have learnt that it is best to be like the duck that goes with the flow. To float along the river effortlessly, enjoying the gentle flow of the water and to treat barbs and insults thrown at you, like the ‘water off a duck’s back’.

Imagine that someone has enjoyed success in the past by being strong willed and consistently sure of their course of action, even in the face of doubters. That sort of attitude can easily grow out of a period in a tough management role. So, it becomes their default way of operating.” She paused and raised her eyebrows. “Then, one day, they find themselves in a situation they haven’t faced before, one where their tried-and-tested bullish methods do not work. And the more they try, the more they fail. They just keep hammering away, assuming that everyone and everything else is wrong. That the world has gone mad.” Andrea rolled her eyes. “That’s when other people start labelling them. They’re stubborn. They’re pig headed. But it’s really not their fault,” she explained. “They’re just stuck in the mud.