Swole Quotes

Knowledge is a swole chihuahua?

Damn, E! Looking swole all up in ya chesticles.

Ig had always liked to listen to his father, to watch him while he played. It was almost wrong to say his father played. It often seemed the other way around: that the horn was playing him. The way his cheeks swole out, then caved in as if he were being inhaled into it, the way the golden keys seemed to grab his fingers like little magnets snatching at iron filings, causing them to leap and dance in unexpected, startling fits. The way he shut his eyes and bent his head and twisted back and forth at the hips, as if his torso were in auger, screwing its way deeper and deeper into the centre of his being, pulling the music up from somewhere in the pit of his belly.

If you want to become swole then just do it

As you grow up, they grow up with you. They get born in a moment, and start off crawling. They’re kinda cute then. Other people like to pet them. People might think of them affectionately as the little quirks of your personality. Then they learn to walk. Then they start running. Then they go to the gym and start doing squats and bench presses and pull-ups. They get faster and stronger and swole. Until, one day, they hit a tipping point, and the monsters become more powerful than you.

I’ve never eaten there. I don’t know what to order. I’m afraid of spicy food. What if it melts my face off?” Deputy Sally’s jaw was clenching in a familiar way as he stared down the silver truck. The driver didn’t seem to care that he had the full, undivided attention of an unhappy cop in uniform. He just idled there. “You plank with no hands,” he reminded me. “Eat with no tongue. Bet your taste buds are mad swole.

I plank with no hands,” I bragged. “That’s why my arms ain’t swole like yours.” His brows drew together in a slightly perplexed clench. “Bet those are some mighty toes.” “Right?” I nodded seriously. “My toes are so much mightier than yours will ever be.” I

Lifting weights has trained me to understand my body not just as a consensus of cells, but as a critical mass—a medium where meaning is made. It's also helped me come to understand my own unsteady relationship with masculinity, not because I'm some big strongman in foxy Lycra pants who hogs the squat rack (though probably all of that too) but because it's breaking down my existing ideas of what manhood means and forcing me to rebuild them in my own image. Generations of American men have historically been instructed, through suggestion, inference, risk, reward, and punishment, not to express themselves, especially when that means sharing our feelings.

Because more than sorry for him, I felt a terrible sameness with Llewellyn, itching like an old scar. I knew something about the pain and the longing that so clearly filled the man--swole up inside him like the bruises on his hands; fit to burst, fit to bleed, fit at last to be said and down away with. I knew too well the ache of loving somebody who just plain don't love you, and never will.