Swordplay Quotes

“I understand that you are an accomplished swords-man,” she finally said.
He eyed her curiously. Where was she going with this? “I like to fence, yes,” he replied.
“I have always wanted to learn.”
“Good God,” Gregory grunted.
“I would be quite good at it,” she protested.
“I’m sure you would,” her brother replied, “which is why you should never be allowed within thirty feet of a sword.” He turned to Gareth. “She’s quite diabolical.”
“Yes, I’d noticed,” Gareth murmured, deciding that maybe there might be a bit more to Hyacinth’s brother than he had thought.
Gregory shrugged, reaching for a piece of shortbread. “It’s probably why we can’t seem to get her married off.”
“Gregory!” This came from Hyacinth, but that was only because Lady Bridgerton had excused herself and followed one of the footmen into the hall.
“It’s a compliment!” Gregory protested. “Haven’t you waited your entire life for me to agree that you’re smarter than any of the poor fools who have attempted to court you?”
“You might find it difficult to believe,” Hyacinth shot back, “but I haven’t been going to bed each night thinking to myself—Oh, I do wish my brother would offer me something that passes for a compliment in his twisted mind.”
― Julia Quinn, It's in His Kiss

“There is no 'fair' in swordplay.”
― Daniel Thorman, Chaos in the Caravan

“Swordplay was like dancing - certain steps must be followed or else it would fall apart.”
― Sarah J. Maas, Throne of Glass

“Know your times and its designs. Swordplay is exacting. Thrus, be shrewd with your jianqizhe ‘swordpraying.’ Much is needed.

—Fencing Metaphor on Prayer
Martial Arts on Noah's Ark”
― douglas laurent

“Valley of the Damned (# 1 The 'Halla)

As she sat teary, another story arose,
Young and full of vigor hewed with manymanymany
years of repose.
“Comrades” she brightened, “listen again to my tale,
Of courage and power, and how evil can never prevail.

—Valkyrie Kari, Saint of the Blade
Chapter 15, Valley of the Damned

Footnote: In one form or another, everybody hears but very few listen. It is a lost art. Like developing a taste for classical art, music or fine wine, listening is a skill, a ‘taste’ to develop, an “acquired sound.”

Valley of the Damned et al.”
― douglas laurent

“Part Two: When St. Kari Met Darth Vader, Star Wars Dark Lord of the Sith 

“What are those?” Kari shouted grasping Luke’s arm as her eyes jolted nervously into the air. “I’ve never seen such pretty planets before.”
Luke tracked her line of vision and grimmed as he spotted three Corellian Imperial Star Destroyers coming out of hyperspace into the same vortex that his own damaged ship was whirlpooled into. They appeared to be stabilizing the vortex opening by their anti-gravity wells maintaining their relative positional orbit.
“Hey’st, what are those white things? They look like men. Surely they are not ghosters, are they?” pawed Kari at Luke to get him to see.
“Imperial troopers,” shot Luke, grabbing her arm back. “There’s too many of them C’mon, we got to hide.”
“What’s does that mean? And what are those red light-thingy’s coming toward us?” Instantly Kari and Luke were inundated by a barrage of suppressing E-11 blaster rifle fire. Luke flinched out of reaction while Kari stood upright seemingly oblivious to the inherent danger. He was struck to see the girl-entity pluck a laser bolt out of the air and examine it with an other worldly look, as if it were a rare flower in a garden.
“I like this,” she smiled. “I’ll pin it to my cloak.” And doing so she did, it maintaining its fiery penetrating redness that did nothing more than to adorn the girl’s wardrobe for quite some time momentarily puzzling Luke. Usually they burnt out quickly. “Can I get some more of these?” she politely asked Luke.
“Not right now,” drawled Luke peering over a boulder. “If they capture us we’ve had it.”
“Had what?” asked Kari naïvely. “Them ghost-men you mean’st? Oh, don’t worry, Walker of the Skies, just leave it to me,” and with that Kari pulled her blade and sashayed toward the Imperial clones humming her favorite Top 10 battle hymns.
“Wait!” Luke shouted trying to snatch her back but it was too late. Luke never saw anything such as this. Like Han, he had seen a lot of strange galactic stuff in his time. Kari had become a misty blur and was skipping across the battlefield as some sort of sword-brandishing luminescence, hovering for a short time over those she slain.
“Hey, Walkersky, these spirits don’t have any souls,” she yelled looking up from her blood soaked garments. What do you want me to do with the rest, kill ’em?”
“I, uh ,” was all he managed to get out of his mouth as he rubbed his jaw.
Kari shrugged and went back to work, picking off the whole brigade by herself. “See’st? I told’st thou not to worry” Kari said panting, coming up to Luke and sitting besides him. “What now?”
“We gotta get outta here before more Imperials arrive.”
“Untruth oats?” (Nether Trans. “art thou nuts?”) “Run from battle?—is that that what means?”
“It means Vader’s coming—.”

go to part ii con't”
― Douglas M. Laurent

“Rohan was battling invisible foes, wielding the large, lancelike weapon she had seen in his hand that first night in the great hall. His long hair flowed around his shoulders, wetted with the sweat that streamed from him and made his body gleam with rippling, raw power. He was bare-chested, wearing only loose black trousers that draped his compact buttocks and muscled thighs gracefully.
His bare feet were silent on the flagstones as he lunged, leaped, and spun about, the torchlight flashing crimson on his long, wicked blade.
Kate watched, riveted by the play of shadows and gold torchlight that slid over his sweat-slicked body, gliding across the sleekly muscled contours of his back and massive shoulders, his powerful chest and chiseled abdomen as he thrust, swung, jabbed, then spiraled up to parry an imaginary blow, only to gouge again with precision perfectly balanced with killing force.
His blade sliced through the air with naught but a deadly whisper, each slashing arc of his weapon, like his honed body, under his exquisite control.
In constant motion, he wove through the changing patterns of his regime with a beautiful---an almost otherworldly---prowess, a creature of elegant savagery.
He attacked again with a low war cry, but then suddenly went motionless, standing in a sure-footed stance below her, his chest heaving.
Slowly, he looked up, as though he had felt her there.
Kate found herself looking into the eyes of a predator; she held absolutely still.”
― Gaelen Foley, My Dangerous Duke

“Every hated enemy, every moment she'd been powerless against them simmered to the surface. And with each movement of the sword, each breath, a thought formed. It echoed with each inhale, every thrust and block.

Never again.

Never again would she be weak.

Never again would she be at someone's mercy.

Never again would she fail.

Never again, never again, never again.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A ​Court of Silver Flames