Ben Jonson Quotes

A burnt child dreads the fire.

A burnt dog dreads the fire.

Burnt child fire dredth.

The burned hand teaches best.

Scalded cats fear even cold water.

You get hit over the knuckles enough, you don't stick them out anymore.

My first fear was about the devil, when I was around fire, something I saw in a movie. I think it's about pain, in whichever form it comes.

Two things scare me. The first is getting hurt. But that's not nearly as scary as the second, which is losing.

A good scare is worth more to a man than good advice.

The scalded head feares cold water.

Oh no, oh no... don't lift me, don't lift me.

Anytime you have an injury, you're going to be iffy about stuff.

I don't like getting hit.

Physical violence is always a bore in films today. We don't see how much it hurts. We don't learn the true consequences of it.

Every morning when I woke up, I would pray, 'I have to throw today, please let there be no pain.' Those were very gloomy days. Meanwhile, the atmosphere around me had become, 'Is he faking an injury?' 'Is it a mental problem?' Those words made it extremely difficult for me to stop and rest, and it really took a toll on me emotionally.

I said I fell down. Ah. The ground bloodied your nose, split yer lip, and punched ye in th' eye, all at once. I said I don't want to talk about it.

If history has a habit of repeating itself, doesn't someone have to stay behind to shout out a warning?

I might have tried bungee jumping, until I saw that video of that guy whose cord came untied. He didn't know it 'till he hit the ground. Oh, he flew off that tower, hollering at his buddies. "Whoo, check me out, dudes! Oh, that ground is coming up..." WHAM! And what do you say, if you're the operator of that ride, to the next guy in line? "All right dude, you're up."

History was an incredibly damaging experience, and now it's over . . . in a sense.

It has always seemed to me that the only painless death must be that which takes the intelligence by violent surprise and from the rear so to speak since if death be anything at all beyond a brief and peculiar emotional state of the bereaved it must be a brief and likewise peculiar state of the subject as well and if aught can be more painful to any intelligence above that of a child or an idiot than a slow and gradual confronting with that which over a long period of bewilderment and dread it has been taught to regard as an irrevocable and unplumbable finality, I do not know it.

No honey for me, if it comes with a bee.

The reward of pain is experience.

The bathroom door swings open. Emma sees the blood painting my skin and the red rivers carved on my body. Emma sees the wet knife, silver and bone. The screams of my little sister shatter mirrors.

For one half second, I wondered what it would feel like to put my hand in the fire. What it would feel like when I burned.