Tomb Raider Quotes

Well,' I said. 'I could strip off my clothes and reveal to you that under my jeans and sweatshirt I'm actually wearing a tank top and short-shorts, much like Lara Croft from Tomb Raider...only mine are flame-retardant and covered in glow-in-the-dark dinosaur stickers.' No one stirred. Not even Christopher, who actually has a thing for Lara Croft. 'I know what you're thinking,' I went on. 'Glow-in-the-dark dinosaur stickers are so last year. But I think they add a certain je ne sais quoi to the whole ensemble. It's true, short-shorts are uncomfortable under jeans and hard to get off in the ladies' room, but they make the twin thigh-holsters in which I hold my high-caliber pistols so easy to get to....' The oven timer dinged. 'Thank you, Em,' Mr. Greer said, yawning. 'That was very persuasive.

You mean he's not afraid of me because I'm a woman? He ought to see Tomb Raider sometime. For all he knows, I could have a nuclear bomb under my dress and a hand grenade in each cup of my bra. I call it antifeminist!

The Babar the Elephant book is sitting in front of me. I pick it up and start reading it. I remember reading it as a small Boy and enjoying it and imagining that I was friends with Babar, his constant Companion during all of his adventures. He went to the moon, I went with him. He fought Tomb Raiders in Egypt, I fought alongside him. He rescued his elephant girlfriend from Ivory Hunters on the Savanna, I coordinated the getaway. I loved that goddamn Elephant and I loved being his friend. In a childhood full of unhappiness and rage, Babar is one of the few pleasant memories that I have. Me and Babar, kicking some motherfucking ass.

A famous explorer once said, that the extraordinary is in what we do, not who we are. I’d finally set out to make my mark; to find adventure. But instead adventure found me. In our darkest moments, when life flashes before us, we find something; Something that keeps us going. Something that pushes us.

As darkness descended, fear continued hammering on the cracks of her rational mind. Even the critters had decided to ratchet up the volume. Great. A creepy nature soundtrack for my own personal nightmare. “How about some Tomb Raider music, people!

Lucia replied: I’m about 2 go play Tomb Raider . . . but it’s REAL. Bet U wish U were here. HOOKER!

And Lazlo was surprised by the strength of his gratitude—to be believed, even by a tomb raider from a family of assassins. Or perhaps especially by a tomb raider from a family of assassins.

Men of our generation often disappear once they’ve got a woman to say ‘I love you’ back to them, because it’s almost like they’ve completed a game. Because they’re the first boys who grew up glued to their PlayStations and Game Boys, they weren’t conditioned to develop any sense of honour and duty in adolescence the way our fathers were. PlayStations replaced parenting. They were taught to look for fun, complete the fun, then get to the next level, switch players or try a new game. They need maximum stimulation all the time. ‘I love you’ is the relationship equivalent of Level 17 of Tomb Raider 2 for a lot of millennial men.

To Mum and Dad, thank you for giving me a childhood filled with stories, for raising me alongside books and films and games. I wouldn’t be here without all those years of Tomb Raider and Harry Potter. But thank you mostly for always saying I could when others said I couldn’t. We did it. And to Ben. You are my constant through every tear, tantrum, failure, worry and victory. Without you, I couldn’t have done it at all. Finally, thank you for picking up this book and reading to the end. You’ll never know how much it means.

looked like a plus-sized Tomb Raider. I zipped a light, hooded sweatshirt over the T-shirt and marched in place, wishing I liked cardio as much as I liked cheese.

A famous explorer once said, that the extraordinary is in what we do, not who we are. I'd finally set out to make my mark; to find adventure. But instead adventure found me. In our darkest moments, when life flashes before us, we find something; Something that keeps us going. Something that pushes us.

In 1907, Haber was the first to obtain nitrogen, the main nutrient required for plant growth, directly from the air. In this way, from one day to the next, he addressed the scarcity of fertilizer that threatened to unleash an unprecedented global famine at the beginning of the twentieth century. Had it not been for Haber, hundreds of millions of people who until then had depended on natural fertilizers such as guano and saltpetre for their crops would have died from lack of nourishment. In prior centuries, Europe’s insatiable hunger had driven bands of Englishmen as far as Egypt to despoil the tombs of the ancient pharaohs, in search not of gold, jewels or antiquities, but of the nitrogen contained in the bones of the thousands of slaves buried along with the Nile pharaohs, as sacrificial victims, to serve them even after their deaths. The English tomb raiders had exhausted the reserves in continental Europe; they dug up more than three million human skeletons, along with the bones of hundreds of thousands of dead horses that soldiers had ridden in the battles of Austerlitz, Leipzig and Waterloo, sending them by ship to the port of Hull in the north of England, where they were ground in the bone mills of Yorkshire to fertilize the verdant fields of Albion.

She was back on the island. On Yamatai. A hellish storm raged all around her.

Lara. The power of the Triangle is the power of a god. Take that power, and every other person in the world becomes a bit player on your stage. Their lives become figments of a dream that you're having." — Lord Richard Croft

As Leo leaned down to deposit her on the bed, she tightened her grip on him, not letting him pull away. “Kiss me,” she demanded. “I shouldn’t.” “Shouldn’t didn’t stop you earlier this evening.” “Earlier this evening you weren’t incapacitated.” “We can work it off. If we take it slow, I’ll be fine. Just don’t expect me to swing from a chandelier. The last time I did that, the whole ceiling came down,” she confided. “I’d really rather not hear about your sexual exploits,” he growled. A jealous Leo was adorable. “Oh, I didn’t do it for sex. We were playing Tomb Raider. And I would have gotten away with the treasure, too, if the bolts would have held.” “You are something else,” he muttered, brushing the hair from her face, his strokes so gentle. “I’m yours,” she muttered as her lashes fluttered shut, her battle with them lost.

How many thefts have there been?’ I asked. ‘That depends on how you define it,’ said Adrian. Because material went missing off sites all the time, which is why important finds were collated and secured the day they were found. Important in archaeological terms not always being the same as valuable – at least not in the fenceable sense. Archaeology came in all shapes, sizes, and apparent degrees of nickableness. ‘We wouldn’t have even noticed some of the thefts if they hadn’t been important to the context,’ said Adrian. Context being the key concept of modern scientific archaeology, and what separates your modern professional from the fumbling archivists and swivel-eyed tomb raiders of the past. It’s a religion they share with scene of crime technicians and it had been drummed into me from my first day at Hendon. Context – where you find an object – is more important than the actual object. In policing it’s whether the broken glass is on the inside or the outside. In archaeology it’s whether that datable coin is found in the wall foundations or its demolition infill. You can live without the coin, but you need the dating information.

The rain rapped the roof like mallets. The thunder was a tympani drum. Downstairs the raiders set fire to the refectory and the flames crackled like a hundred castanets. Those few who had not fled the church were screaming, high, pleading shrieks, met by lower barking orders of those committing the atrocities. The low and high voices, the crackling fire, whipping wind, drumming rain and crashing thunder created an angry symphony, swirling to a crescendo, and just as the invaders threw open the tomb of Saint Pascual, ready to desecrate his bones, the bells above the basilica began to chime, causing all to look up. At that precise moment, Frankie Presto was born.

Several seconds passed before James registered that the man was dead. He looked at Shay, who holstered her 9mm. The tomb raider shrugged. “It was either that or get a ruler out and offer to measure your dicks.” She snorted. “Fuck, Brownstone, were you going to talk him to death?

I woke up this morning and I just hated everything.

she’d pursue it with the fearless tenacity of a terrier…

In greed, one accepts the false and loses the real. This is chaos.

Kiss me,” she demanded. “I shouldn’t.” “Shouldn’t didn’t stop you earlier this evening.” “Earlier this evening you weren’t incapacitated.” “We can work it off. If we take it slow, I’ll be fine. Just don’t expect me to swing from a chandelier. The last time I did that, the whole ceiling came down,” she confided. “I’d really rather not hear about your sexual exploits,” he growled. A jealous Leo was adorable. “Oh, I didn’t do it for sex. We were playing Tomb Raider. And I would have gotten away with the treasure, too, if the bolts would have held.” “You are something else,

She is,” said Lara. “But I’m not a doctor.” “You’re not much of an archaeologist either, young lady,” said Professor Cahalane.

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She was running on instinct, on adrenaline, good adrenaline that made her sharp, effective. She wasn’t panicking.

Stories, legends live on in the memories of men long after artifacts are lost. They act as lessons or as examples of greatness, but they aren’t real.

It tells us much about man and his beliefs, his imagination, his aspirations, his capacity for romance, his needs. It tells us a great deal about the era the story came from and the culture. As for the artifact? If such a thing exists at all, I have no doubt that it is utterly inert. Magic is in the mind of the beholder.

Antiquities and artifacts are never simply objects. Their stories tell us about the people that made them and the times they lived in.

That shade of blue didn’t belong down here in the dark. It was like seeing a butterfly at the bottom of a shit bucket.

Shay finally realized what she’d lacked before. All animals might want to live, but not all animals had a reason to live. I should have died so many times, but I haven’t. And I’m just glad to still be alive and have a reason for it. She laughed harder. Gratitude. What a novel feeling. “It’s a great night to be alive, Lily,” Shay explained. “Maybe every night’s a great night, but I’m really feeling it this night.” She threw her head back and howled at the moon.

So the guys who are supposed to be figuring out the truth are ignoring it because they don’t want to admit they were wrong?” Shay grinned. “Funny how that works, isn’t it?

People like us… we all have places that don’t heal entirely. We just get used to the occasional stab of pain and keep going.

I like the place because, first and foremost, the beer is of excellent quality, and secondly, because the name is a reminder that greatness often has a cost. Few people accomplish anything of merit without sacrifice.” Shay shrugged. “True enough, but some people don’t seek greatness.” “Alas, sometimes greatness is thrust upon people.

I hope you live long enough for something else big to shock you and make you question everything like it did me. It’s uncomfortable at times to stare into the truth when it goes against what you think you know, but in the end, you’ll feel more satisfied.

Good news is at least the climb down will be easier. Thanks, gravity, for not always being a bitch.

Failure was the fire in the crucible of greatness. Every time a woman made a mistake, she should just think back, examine it, and figure out how to avoid making that mistake again. Shay wanted to believe that, but her heart wouldn’t let her. No. Mistakes burned in her soul, reminders of her failure and the fact that she wasn’t the best in the world at something.

the future is always more important than the past.

By far the most important survival item one can possibly have is the will to survive

Context being the key concept of modern scientific archeology, and what separates your modern professional from the fumbling archivists and swivel-eyed tomb raiders of the past. It’s a religion they share with scene of crime technicians and it had been drummed into me from my first day at Hendon. Context—where you find an object—is more important than the actual object. In policing it’s whether the broken glass is on the inside or the outside. In archeology it’s whether that datable coin is found in the wall foundations or its demolition infill. You can live without the coin, but you need the dating information.

One cannot claim to be committed to righting injustice and then abandon that principle when it is not a matter that impacts one personally.