Quotesdtb.com
Popular Searches
Marcus Aurelius
Albert Einstein
Oscar Wilde
Mark Twain
Confucius
Plato
Authors
Topics
Quotes
Home
Authors
Quotes of the day
Top quotes
Topics
There's a line, players usually don't cross it and coaches usually don't cross it. Every once in a while you get a little temper tantrum on both sides, I certainly have had 'em. I'm not proud of those.
Bill Parcells
Embed this Quote Image
×
Copy the code below to show this image on your website:
Embed code
<a href="https://www.quotesdtb.com/quote/11730571/bill-parcells-cross-line" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer"><img loading="lazy" src="https://cdn.quotesdtb.com/img/quotes_images_webp/62/bill-parcells-cross-line-796962.webp" alt="There's a line, players usually don't cross it and coaches usually don't cross it. Every once in a while you get a little temper tantrum on both sides, I certainly have had 'em. I'm not proud of those. (Bill Parcells)" style="max-width:1200px;width:100%;height:auto;border:0;display:block;" width="1200" height="630"></a>
Copy code
Code copied!
Add to your website
Related topics
cross
line
once
tantrum
temper
while
Related quotes
Where do you draw the line between a humble man who knows his own weaknesses but tries to act out virtues he hasn't quite mastered yet, and a proud man who pretends to have those virtues without the slightest intention of acquiring them?
Orson Scott Card
I remember once, when I started writing for the alto saxophone, a saxophonist told me to think of it as being like a cross between an oboe and a viola, but louder.
Gavin Bryars
How loved, how honored once, avails thee not, To whom related, or by whom begot A heap of dust alone remains of thee 'Tis all thou art, and all the proud shall be.
Alexander Pope
I once had a sparrow alight upon my shoulder for a moment, while I was hoeing in a village garden, and I felt that I was more distinguished by that circumstance than I should have been by any epaulet I could have worn.
Henry David Thoreau
We cross our bridges when we come to them and burn them behind us, with nothing to show for our progress except a memory of the smellof smoke, and a presumption that once our eyes watered.
Tom Stoppard