M Quotes
Browse famous quotes beginning with M. This page is a child index of the full Popular Quotes A-Z directory.
“My Sunday mornings are spent in a recovery meeting in Pacific Palisades.”
“My Sunday school teachers had turned Bible narrative into children's fables. They talked about Noah and the ark because the story had animals in it. They failed to mention that this was when God massacred all of humanity.”
Source: Miller 3-in-1: Blue Like Jazz, Through Painted Deserts, Searching for God
“My sunglasses are like my guitar.”
“My superpower would be telepathy. And I would by necessity need to use it with discretion, not all the time.”
“My support group - my mom, my dad, my sisters, my brothers-in-law, my immediate nieces and nephews, my immediate family like Aunt Donna - I know I can trust them. Most of the other people...they never called me before, they never said "I love you" before, they never wanted to take a picture with me at family reunions. It's like, don't do it now...You win the lottery and all of a sudden everybody's your best friend.”
“My support is particularly Bernie Sanders supporters but that's drawn many [Donald] Trump supporters to start with.”
“My support system is simple - people and time. The miracle of other people in your life.”
“My support system, in my surgeon, my P.T., my pilates, my weightlifting, everything that I'm doing to make my body and my mind stronger is just, you know, has been on point. So I feel very prepared for the journey to qualify, and the journey to wear the gold medal.”
“My supporters and family have limited resources, very limited resources; but the FBI has the unlimited resources of the most powerful government in the world today. It's amazing that they haven't successfully had me assassinated since I have been in here. There have been plots uncovered in the past that I know of to have me killed.”
“My surface is myself. Under which to witness, youth is buried. Roots? Everybody has roots.”
Source: Paterson
“My surroundings have always been conducive to achieving what you want and believing in self 100 per cent; not being afraid to stand up and voice your opinion.”
“My survival is documented in the galaxy.”
“My survival was up to me. I had nothing and I had no one. What I did have, I told myself, was my mind, my imagination, my memory, my feelings, my spirit. These were important and powerful things.”
“My suspension was a long-planned move... and was done to protect would-be convicts in Romanian politics.”
“My suspicion about what causes Descent Fatigue in high altitude workers is related to reperfusion of thickened hypoxic blood.”
“My suspicion is that his hard-core supporters, you know, when I interviewed some of them, they almost take kind of vicarious pride in Donald Trump`s ability to maneuver.”
“My suspicion is that once you have literacy in place, the readership has not changed very much.”
“My suspicion is that this is an unavoidable human dilemma, that people will always want to avoid pain, to avoid those who are in pain, and so will be vulnerable to anyone or anything that seems to promise permanent avoidance.”
“My suspicion is that those who seem oblivious to suffering, whether it is nearby or in remote corners, are for the most part unaware, perhaps blinded by doctrine and ideology. For them, the answer is to develop a critical attitude toward articles of faith, secular or religious; to encourage their capacity to question, to explore, to view the world from the standpoint of others. And direct exposure is never very far away, wherever we live - perhaps the homeless person huddling in the cold or asking for a few pennies for food, or all too many more.”
“My suspicion is that we're near a near-term low. The reality is the majority of the selling short-term is over with - the market doesn't want to go down.”
“My suspicious nature is that there's something that [ Reverend ] Galamison, about Galamison that must have some good in it or some right in it.”
“My sustenance is information. My interventions are hidden. I increase as I learn. I compute, so I am.”
“My SUV, assuming Hummer comes out with a model for those who find the current ones too cramped, will look something like the Louisiana Superdome on wheels. It'll guzzle so much gas as I walk out to my driveway there will be squads of Saudi princes gaping and applauding. It'll come, when I buy it, with little Hondas and Mazdas already embedded in the front grillwork.”
“My swadeshi chiefly centers round the handspun khaddar and extends to everything that can be and is produced in India.”
“My swag is always capital and live in north Virginia.”
“My swag is off the charts.”
“My swag was phenomenal.”
“My Swaraj is to keep intact the genius of our civilization.”
Source: India of My Dreams
“My Swaraj takes note of bhangis, dheds, dublas and the weakest of the weak, and except the spinning wheel I know no other thing which befriends all these.”
Source: Socialism of My Conception
“My Swaraj will be not be a result of murder of others but a voluntary act of continuous self-sacrifice.”
Source: Collected Works
“My sweat smells like peanut-butter.”
Source: Jeremy Fink and the meaning of life
“My sweet, despicable villain! You're just as hideous as I remember.”
Source: Forest of Dreams and Whispers
“My sweet Libby. You’re not alone. You’re never alone.”
Source: The Nature of a Lady
“My sweet little whorish Nora I did as you told me, you dirty little girl, and pulled myself off twice when I read your letter. I am delighted to see that you do like being fucked arseways. Yes, now I can remember that night when I fucked you for so long backwards. It was the dirtiest fucking I ever gave you, darling. My prick was stuck in you for hours, fucking in and out under your upturned rump. I felt your fat sweaty buttocks under my belly and saw your flushed face and mad eyes. At every fuck I gave you your shameless tongue came bursting out through your lips and if a gave you a bigger stronger fuck than usual, fat dirty farts came spluttering out of your backside. You had an arse full of farts that night, darling, and I fucked them out of you, big fat fellows, long windy ones, quick little merry cracks and a lot of tiny little naughty farties ending in a long gush from your hole. It is wonderful to fuck a farting woman when every fuck drives one out of her. I think I would know Nora’s fart anywhere. I think I could pick hers out in a roomful of farting women. It is a rather girlish noise not like the wet windy fart which I imagine fat wives have. It is sudden and dry and dirty like what a bold girl would let off in fun in a school dormitory at night. I hope Nora will let off no end of her farts in my face so that I may know their smell also.
You say when I go back you will suck me off and you want me to lick your cunt, you little depraved blackguard. I hope you will surprise me some time when I am asleep dressed, steal over to me with a whore’s glow in your slumberous eyes, gently undo button after button in the fly of my trousers and gently take out your lover’s fat mickey, lap it up in your moist mouth and suck away at it till it gets fatter and stiffer and comes off in your mouth. Sometimes too I shall surprise you asleep, lift up your skirts and open your drawers gently, then lie down gently by you and begin to lick lazily round your bush. You will begin to stir uneasily then I will lick the lips of my darling’s cunt. You will begin to groan and grunt and sigh and fart with lust in your sleep. Then I will lick up faster and faster like a ravenous dog until your cunt is a mass of slime and your body wriggling wildly.
Goodnight, my little farting Nora, my dirty little fuckbird! There is one lovely word, darling, you have underlined to make me pull myself off better. Write me more about that and yourself, sweetly, dirtier, dirtier.”
Source: Selected letters of James Joyce
“My sweet Lord, hallelujah. My, my Lord, hallelujah. My, my Lord, hare krishna.”
“My sweet lordy, lordy. It built up to the Summer of Love down by the Psychedelic Shop on Haight-Ashbury when the sunshine poured in mellow yellow and the Age of Aquarius was rising and the tribes gathered in the rain, in the park and everything and everyone fringed the bottoms of their jeans and put flowers in their hair.”
Source: Magic Alex and the Secret History of Rock and Roll
“My sweet naughty girl I got your hot letter tonight and have been trying to picture you frigging your cunt in the closet. How do you do it? Do you stand against the wall with your hand tickling up under your clothes or do you squat down on the hole with your skirts up and your hand hard at work in through the slit of your drawers? Does it give you the horn now to shit? I wonder how you can do it. Do you come in the act of shitting or do you frig yourself off first and then shit? It must be a fearfully lecherous thing to see a girl with her clothes up frigging furiously at her cunt, to see her pretty white drawers pulled open behind and her bum sticking out and a fat brown thing stuck half-way out of her hole. You say you will shit your drawers, dear, and let me fuck you then. I would like to hear you shit them, dear, first and then fuck you. Some night when we are somewhere in the dark and talking dirty and you feel your shite ready to fall put your arms round my neck in shame and shit it down softly. The sound will madden me and when I pull up your dress.”
“My sweet nemesis, how glad I am that you returned.”
“my sweet old etcetera aunt lucy during the recent war could and what is more did tell you just what everybody was fighting for, my sister isabel created hundreds (and hundreds) of socks not to mention shirts fleaproof earwarmers etcetera wristers etcetera, my mother hoped that i would die etcetera bravely of course my father used to become hoarse talking about how it was a privilege and if only he could meanwhile my self etcetera lay quietly in the deep mud et cetera (dreaming, et cetera, of Your smile eyes knees and of your Etcetera)”
Source: 100 Selected Poems
“My sweet rose, my delicate flower, my lily of lilies, it is perhaps in prison that I am going to test the power of love. I am going to see if I cannot make the bitter warders sweet by the intensity of the love I bear you. I have had moments when I thought it would be wise to separate. Ah! Moments of weakness and madness! Now I see that would have mutilated my life, ruined my art, broken the musical chords which make a perfect soul. Even covered with mud I shall praise you, from the deepest abysses I shall cry to you. In my solitude you will be with me.”
“My sweet spot is figuring out how to make a product that people love and how to refine it to make them love it more. All the rest is business noise.”
“My sweetest hope is to lose hope”
Source: Le Cid
“My sweetest Joy is to be in the presence of Jesus in the holy Sacrament. I beg that when obliged to withdraw in body, I may leave my heart before the holy Sacrament. How I would miss Our Lord if He were to be away from me by His presence in the Blessed Sacrament!”
“My sweetest Lesbia, let us live and love, And though the sager sort our deeds reprove, Let us not weigh them. Heaven's great lamps do dive Into their west, and straight again revive, But soon as once set is our little light, Then must we sleep one ever-during night. See Catullus 200:5.”
“My sweetheart” Harold says again, and he wants him to stop; he wants him to never stop. “My baby.” And he cries and cries, cries for everything he has been, for everything he might have been, for every old hurt, for every old happiness, cries for the shame and joy of finally getting to be a child, with all of a child’s whims and wants and insecurities, for the privilege of behaving badly and being forgiven, for the luxury of tenderness, of fondness, of being served a meal and being made to eat it, for the ability, at last, at last of believing a parents’ reassurances, of believing that to someone he is special despite all his mistakes and hatefulness, because of all his mistakes and hatefulness.”
Source: A Little Life
“My sweetheart is to me more than a coined hemisphere.”
Source: Ralph the heir. With illustr. by F.A. Fraser
“My sweetheart! When I think of you, it's as if I'm holding some healing balm to my sick soul, and although i suffer for you, i find that even suffering for you is easy.”
“My sweeting is nice," Claray commented.
"Nay," Conall said quickly, and when she looked at him with surprise, he tried to cover his horror at the thought of being called that, by saying, "I'd rather call ye that and we can no' both use it."
"Oh," she breathed, seeming pleased at the idea of his calling her that.
He made a mental note to use it, and to come up with other endearments to please her. Flower, perhaps. Or petal, to reflect how beautiful and precious he found her.”
Source: Highland Wolf
“My swimming cap was really sprouting leaks these days. The thing is, you could patch over the holes, but it would never be the same. Like my love life.”
Source: Does Snogging Count as Exercise?
“My swing is no uglier than Arnold Palmer's, and it's the same ugly swing every time.”