Ah well, sticks and stones may break my bones...
...and the time I tried and failed a 65' vertical drop at Montana Crans, that broke two bone, one of them in 8 places; two cheek bones while totaling a Harley Davidson in Nova Scotia (it's okay, it was a crappy AMF one!); the pre-airbag side impact crash in Bozeman broke a wrist; broke two bones in my foot missing a step and sliding on a dog toy; having 45,000 lbs. of flat steel dropped on the car I was driving pretty well destroyed every bone in my right shoulder; and two cracked ribs avoiding arrest during an interesting protest with Autonomie Operaio by going through a storefront and landing badly...
... but words, dear sweet, sweet, child psy, will never hurt me.
Unless those words are something on the order of "duck, there is a whacking great mallet flying at your head" and I fail to react in time, but I wouldn't blame the words, theirs would be merely an unheeded warning not a causal effect in the conjunction between head and aforementioned flying mallet.
Silly little boy, don't come to a battle of wits so woefully unarmed and ill-prepared. You will only end up embarrassing yourself in front of your betters.
Yet again.
Did I hurt your feelings, liitle man?
I'm flattered with all the time you spend replying to me. It only shows how important I am to your insignificant little self.
If you were as smart as you pretend to look like you would've noticed that I just don't give a rats ass about you or what you think. I just tell you to "Go fuck yourself" and get done with it.
Like now: Go fuck yourself!