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G Quotes

Browse famous quotes beginning with G. This page is a child index of the full Popular Quotes A-Z directory.

All G Quotes

“G: Did you ever go through a period of trying to imitate boys? F: When I thought it was wrong to be a lesbian, what I did then was really go over into trying to cut off all of my male behavior, to the point of shaving my arms! I thought that anybody who looked at my arms would know immediately that I had hair on them and that was a sure sign of lesbianism! So I went the other way really. I didn’t go into the male role. I went into trying to hide it from everybody else until I figured it out. G: So you figured it out? F: Yeah, it was like a secret that I didn’t want anybody else to know until I was able to handle the situation and cope with my feelings about it. And during that period, I changed into being-- into acting the female role. During that time I would just go off by myself for long periods of time. And this happened for several years. G: When did you really feel that you were strong enough to openly be what you were? F: That went on until Jeanne happened. And then I had it all together. Jeanne was all I needed to know it was right. And then I had thought it all out, all the angles of it. Enough to hit anybody who went against it. G: How old were you when that happened? F: Twenty.”

“G-Men been tryin’ to snag him for years. It ain’t gonna happen. He’s smart. He’s heartless. He’s ice cold. He’s been a killer since he was twelve. He’s survived much worse than you. And, by the way, don’t think he won’t take out a few Feds if he wants to. You’re just a bunch a shitkickers to him. Who’s gonna arrest him? Huh? Cause it won’t be anyone around here. You boys need to look elsewheres for your glory and medals. That badge you got don’t mean nothin’ on these streets.”

“G. Stanley Hall, a creature of his times, believed strongly that adolescence was determined – a fixed feature of human development that could be explained and accounted for in scientific fashion. To make his case, he relied on Haeckel's faulty recapitulation idea, Lombroso's faulty phrenology-inspired theories of crime, a plethora of anecdotes and one-sided interpretations of data. Given the issues, theories, standards and data-handling methods of his day, he did a superb job. But when you take away the shoddy theories, put the anecdotes in their place, and look for alternate explanations of the data, the bronze statue tumbles hard. I have no doubt that many of the street teens of Hall's time were suffering or insufferable, but it's a serious mistake to develop a timeless, universal theory of human nature around the peculiarities of the people of one's own time and place.”

“G-Dragonhe is very romantic. I’m his roommate so I see everything. He’s seriously romantic. If he dates someone he makes a song for them. One time he asked me how the song was. And I said oh my god if this was released in Korea there’d be a huge deal and it would make so much money. But… since it’s for the woman he loves it’s only for her and gives up that money/fame from that song.”

“G.K. Chesterton, who was part of a Catholic conservatism that was kind and loving, not reactionary or hateful, said "We're all in the same boat in a stormy sea and we owe each other a terrible loyalty." I think that's profoundly true, yet it's difficult to have civil dialogue right now with other Christians, so how can we possibly talk to "all the nations"?”

“Ga nu maar rap naar huis slapen,’ zei Sinter-Klaas tot Ceciliatje, ‘we brengen seffens het schip....’ Het kind ging naar huis, maar 't sliep niet, en zat onder den schoorsteenmantel met het kussen op zijn armkens, naar de nederdaling van het schip te wachten. De maan zag juist in het arm-triestig plaatsken. Hé, wat zag Ceciliatje ineens! Ginder op een blinkenden manestraal klabetterde het ezeltje omhoog, met op zijn rug Sinter-Klaas; en Zwarte Piet liet zich meeslijpen met den staart van 't ezeltje vast te houden. De maan ging open; een zacht groot licht viel in vonkelende regenboogkleuren over de besneeuwde wereld, Sinter-Klaas groette naar de aarde, trad binnen, en weer was het gewone groenmaneschijne nacht. Ceciliatje meende te gaan weenen. Zwarte Piet of de goede Heilige hadden het schip niet gebracht. 't Lag niet op het kussen. Maar zie! Wat geluk, het schip ‘de Congo’ stond daar, daar in de koude assche, zonder kneus of berst, glanzend van zilver, en wel voor 7½ centen witten wat smorend uit zijn twee schouwpijpen! Hoe kon het zijn! Hoe was dat zoo stil gebeurd?.... Dat weet nu juist niemand, dat is de kundigheid en 't glanzend vernuft van Zwarte Piet, en dat leert hij aan niemand voort.”

“Gaandeweg raakte ze in haar humeur. Het afwisselende, her en der 'desolate' landschap, de verkoelende wind en de mensloosheid bevielen haar. Elke paar honderd meter trok ze haar groene jack uit of juist aan. 'Ik zweet nogal snel. Heb jij dat niet? Ik had mijn jas niet moeten meenemen.' Of: 'Toch wel goed dat ik mijn jas bij me heb.' Als ze haar jack uitdeed, nam ik het van haar over. Ik hing het aan een draagband van mijn rugtasje. 'Geef mijn jas maar,' zei ze. 'Met deze wind moet ik uitkijken.”

“Gabby,” Jenna cried. “It’s so horrible. I can’t believe this happened.” “Jenna,” I said in a soothing voice, “I’m alive and okay. No worries.” She sniffled into the phone. “No, it’s not that.” I waited a beat. “What?” “The bridesmaid dresses are all wrong!” she wailed. “Wait a second,” I said. “You aren’t upset over my being dead for four days?” “I knew you’d be fine,” she explained, brushing off the subject. “But these dresses? I don’t know what to do. They’re the wrong color, and they’re hideous!” She went into a hysterical fit of tears.”

“Gabe ran his hand through his hair and suppressed sending an entreaty to God. It wouldn’t do any good. The motley crew before him could only have been sent by the devil himself. His long lost sister, a hippie vampire, an angry Italian cop, and a tattooed man with no last name. It was as if Central Casting had thrown up its hands and sent over whomever had walked in the door.”

“Gabe realized he was standing there alone, with a goofy smile on his face. Limping inside, he closed the door behind him, her words still lingering in his mind. Gabe wanted more than anything to be able to choose happiness. He wanted a rain storm to make him smile. He desired that the simple task of cooking would make him dance. To Gabe, however, it didn’t seem as simple as just making a choice. He hoped her joy was contagious, because he was in uncharted territories.”

“Gabe suffers from survivor’s remorse. He won’t admit it because he doesn’t see it. Can’t recognize it in himself. He overcompensates for coming back alive, when so many didn’t. He’s got issues. You’ve got issues. Everyone has issues. But issues are a part of life. And whether we like it or not, even bad things happen for a reason.”

“Gabe watched her move to the center of the green. In one gloved hand, she clutched a leash. The other end of the leash was attached to... something furry and brown that rolled. "What is that?" "That would be mongrel with two lamed hind legs. Apparently, Her Ladyship's friend devised a little chariot for his rear half, and the dog careens around the neighborhood like a yapping billiard ball. If you think that's strange, wait until you see the goat." "Hold a moment. There's a goat?" "Oh, yes. She grazes it on the square every afternoon. Doesn't precisely elevate the atmosphere of Bloom Square, now does it?" "I see the problem." "I'm only getting started. Her Ladyship has single-handedly set us back a month on the improvements." Hammond pulled a collection of letters from a folio. He held one aloft and read from it. "'Dear Mr. Hammond, I must request that you delay completion of the parquet flooring. The fumes from the lacquer are dizzying the hens. Sincerely yours, Lady Penelope Campion.'" He withdrew another. "'Dear Mr. Hammond, I'm afraid your improvements to the mews must be temporarily halted. I've located a litter of newborn kittens in the hayloft. Their mother is looking after them, but as their eyes are not yet open, they should not be displaced for another week. Thank you for your cooperation. Gratefully yours, Lady Penelope Campion.'" Gabe sensed a theme. "Oh, and here's my favorite." Hammond shook open a letter and cleared his throat for dramatic effect. "'Dear Mr. Hammond, if it is not too great an imposition, might I ask that your workers refrain from performing heavy labor between nine o'clock in the morning and half-three in the afternoon? Hedgehogs are nocturnal animals, and sensitive to loud noises. My dear Freya is losing quills. I feel certain this will concern you as much as it does me. Neighborly yours, Lady Penelope Campion.'" He tossed the folio of letters onto the table, where they landed with a smack. "Her hedgehog. Really.”

“Gabe watched, holding his breath as the figure slowly turned. The body moved in an almost unnatural way as it shifted and crawled slowly on all fours across the floor. When the candlelight at last fell on the figure, Gabe could make out the auburn hair of his beloved Sophie. Her hair was matted, greasy, and hung in her face. Gabe saw her shoulders were hollow looking and her skin was almost glowing white. Gabe caught sight of Sophie’s fingers, her knuckles were bloody, and her nails cracked and peeling. Instinctively, Gabe fell to his knees and crawled to Sophie. Without even giving it a thought, he grabbed her hands and pulled them closer to the light.”