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I Quotes

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All I Quotes

“I'm here to talk to Serena only," he said firmly. Then the air filled with a sweet, musky fragrance and a delicate hand covered the face of Jimena's watch. He looked up into Serena's eyes. She leaned against Jimena, her arm around her friend, and smiled at Stanton. She was wearing tight jeans and a sheer long-sleeved pink shirt over a thin T. Her hair was curled and glistened in the sun. She looked more beautiful than ever. He smiled, wondering why he hadn't sensed her approach. Maybe she had learned some new skill to hide her presence. She gently probed his mind without trying to hide her happiness at seeing him. "I need to talk to you," he said, interrupting her before she could probe too deep. He didn't want her to see how much he had missed her.”

“I'm here to tell niggas it ain't all swell. There's Heaven then there's Hell niggas One day your cruisin' in your seven, Next day your sweatin', forgettin' your lies, Alibis ain't matchin' up, bullshit catchin' up Hit with the RICO, they repoed your vehicle Everything was all good just a week ago 'Bout to start bitchin' ain't you? Ready to start snitchin' ain't you? I forgive you. Weak ass, hustlin' just ain't you Aside from the fast cars Honeys that shake they ass in bars You know you wouldn't be involved With the Underworld dealers, carriers of mac-millers East coast bodiers, West coast cap-peelers Little monkey niggas turned gorillas.”

“I’m here to tell you that there is a way out of the entre- preneurial spiral. You CAN have freedom of money, time, andaction in your business. You CAN make an impact and still have a life. But if you really want it all—the freedom and the success, the money and the time—you need to be willing to challenge everything you thought you knew about designing, building, and running a business.”

“I'm hiding in the bathroom, waiting for the coast to clear. I peek out the door. Principal Principal spots another errant student in the hall. Principal Principal: "Where's your late pass, mister?" Errant Student: "I'm on my way to get one now." PP: "But you can't be in the hall without a pass." ES: "I know, I'm so upset. That's why I need to hurry, so I can get a pass." Principal Principal pauses with a look on his face like Daffy Duck's when Bugs is pulling a fast one. PP: "Well, hurry up, then, and get that pass." Errant Student races down the hall, waving and smiling. Principal Principal walks the other way, replaying the conversation in his mind, trying to figure out what went wrong. I ponder this and laugh.”

“I’m history’s last fucking joke—burned out in a senior center doing Namaste Yoga while God shows up in a saltine cracker, calls me a coward, and offers me a cigarette. That’s it. That’s the punchline. So fuck your hope, and fuck your healing. I’m already holy. I’m already gone.”

“I’m hitting the shower,” Braeden said and slammed his locker shut. “Hey,” I said and caught him by the shoulder. He glanced around at me. “You wanna tell me why Rimmel called you before the game?” Braeden spun. “Did you go through my phone?” “Did you lie to me about my girl?” I countered. He wiped a hand over his face. “Fucking A. Don’t put me in the middle, Rome.” “You’re my best friend, asshole. There is no middle. It’s my side.” “Hey now,” he said. “Sisters before misters and all that.” “What the fuck does that even mean?” I drawled, amused. “It means I’ve taken her on as my little sister. You’re her mister. I’m officially in neutral territory.”

“I'm honestly kind of surprised. You've got a flair for drama, Misha. I thought you might get hard over some final sacrifice for love, or whatever. I mean, you're the writer, not me, but that's got Emmy written all over it." "Bury your gays." I reply, utterly deadpan. Jack rolls his eyes. In film, in TV, in books... the queer characters never get a happy ending," I press. "Sometimes they're the first to go, other times they make some brave sacrifice in the finale, but it always ends in tragedy and death. That's why it's called bury your gays.”

“I'm honored that my parents trust me enough to take on their jobs when they retire, so how can I refuse? I am originally from Dream Town. This was my bed. This was my home. I can't just ignore my duty. But in a way, the scenes captured in these watercolor paintings feel like someone else's life. Halloween Town is the only home I've ever truly known. Whether or not I belonged there, I grew to adore it. The black cat's chorus of midnight wails. The silver glow of the full moon. The scent of fire-roasted pumpkin soup on an autumn breeze. I used to sit at my barred window in Dr. Finkelstein's house and watch the townspeople like they were characters in my own macabre little dollhouse: the Mayor wheeling around in his hearse. The trio of musicians playing a morose melody. The corpse family bringing in the pumpkin harvest with their lumbering gaits and rattling chains. They all became such dear characters to me, even if half of them never knew my name. And so, when I married Jack and became the Pumpkin Queen, it meant everything that they embraced me. There were bumps along the road, of course, but now I'm traipsing around that macabre little dollhouse village with them all. Dancing. Delivering potions. Making queenly proclamations. Even now, it brings tears to my eyes. I want to hold on to this beautiful feeling of belonging for all eternity.”

“I’m hopelessly stuck with nothing more than an idea and a handful of sentences.” Nick returned his gaze to the page. “Write your own words,” he said quietly. “What?” “Do not search for inspiration within another poet or author’s tales orverse.” He captured her fingers and guided them to her breastbone. “Write from here.” From that place where all great agony, love, and despair lived in a synchronistic harmony that left a man forever in tumult.”

“I’m hungry,” Jason grumbled as he stared at the empty plates on his small coffee table. Brad groaned, “You practically ate both plates of cookies. How in the hell are you hungry?” Jason shrugged leaning back in his chair to watch the game. “I just am. Leave me the hell alone I’m a growing boy, damn it!” “Yeah, a growing thirty-one year old boy,” Brad mumbled. “I’m still growing damn it so shut the hell up and feed me!” “Order something and stop bitching!” Brad snapped. “You order something. I’m too weak to move.”

“I'm hungry.' 'Me too.' 'Will you get us something to eat?' 'I suppose I could take a look around. Maybe find a baby bird or a dead squirrel, or something. One word about a quiche, and I'll kill you.' 'While you're up there, try to find some nice, soft grasses we can sit on and be more comfortable.' 'Yes, comrade. ... Here. I found some eggs to suck on.' 'Did you remember to get the grasses?' 'No. I forgot.' 'Are you going to get the grasses?' 'Can I eat first?' 'I don't know why you say you'll do things if you don't mean it.' 'I MEANT it! I just FORGOT!' 'You can get the grasses after you finish eating.' 'Thank you.' 'And try to find some water. We're going to need water if we plan on hiding out here.' 'YES COMRADE! ANYTHING ELSE?' ... 'Y'know, we could've had these eggs in a quiche!”

“I’m imagining your response as you read this letter —which by then will have spent a week or two sitting in this lagoon, then another month riding the chaos of the Italian mail system, before finally crossing the Atlantic and being passed over to the US Post Office, who will have transferred it into a sack to be pushed along in a cart by a mailman who’ll have slugged through rain or snow in order to slip it through your mail slot where it will have dropped to the floor, to wait for you to find it.”

“I'm Impossible (Sonnet 1272) I don't need to play word games, to say, impossible means I am possible; my existence is epitome of the impossible. I don't make plans, I make purpose, then the purpose plans me, into unstoppable. Does that mean, loneliness doesn't bother me, Of course it does - it makes the torture worse. Anybody who says, they enjoy loneliness, is either lying or plain narcissistic retard. But then again, just when I feel super gloomy, I remember my responsibility to my world family. Time and again, my purpose drags me out, Electrifying my veins with incorruptible duty. ¡Viva la humanidad, viva la familia mundial! Long live humanity, long live world family! Whenever you are down, take refuge in purpose; Your purpose will reawaken your invincibility.”

“I’m in a caregiver's relationship with my body, a perpetual internal gauging of wellness. My spine is Hogarth’s thermometer. I ascend and descend its rungs a hundred times a day, reading the mercury level. The same dis-ease speaks many languages. If you block one mouth, another will speak. The symptoms represent differently, and as I get older, my translation changes. The prescription changes. Must be vigilant. Must be my best nurse.”