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O Quotes

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All O Quotes

“Oh, Prince Rui, what is this? Why do you look so fragile?” Prince Zhong stood at the gates of the palace, and called out to Prince Rui. He bowed to Prince Rui with a smile. “When one gets old, you have to take care, and not get old ahead of your time.” “Thank you, Prince Zhong, for your reminder. This prince is a few years younger than you, and does not have much experience.”

“Oh r-really? Do t-tell?” I quirked an eyebrow back at him.

“Well, usually it’s best to take your shoes and socks off before you step in the stream, better balance on an uneven surface. Also, you avoid that unpleasant squelchy feeling when you wear the shoes again later.” He paused, smirking. “Also, if
I was going to paddle barefoot upstream in Yorkshire, I’d wait until at least May before I tried it. But you go ahead, love. You’re clearly a Spartan lass.”

“Oh r-really? Do t-tell?” I quirked an eyebrow back at him. “Well, usually it’s best to take your shoes and socks off before you step in the stream, better balance on an uneven surface. Also, you avoid that unpleasant squelchy feeling when you wear the shoes againlater.” He paused, smirking. “Also, if I was going to paddle barefoot “I was going to paddle barefoot upstream in Yorkshire, I’d wait until at least May before I tried it. But you go ahead, love. You’re clearly a Spartan lass.”

“Oh, really? Do you wake up heaving from bloody dreams that promise destruction like some crazy street guy forecasting the Apocalypse? Did you slam a door in your dad’s face hours before he died? Does everyone, cops included, think you’re a pestering loon ’cause ‘accident’ doesn’t sit right with you, nor the many other freakouts, like the car that keeps showing up on your street, with someone sitting in it, doing like, nothing? No? Oh no? Didn’t think so. Life sucks for everyone. Jump or deal with it.”

“Oh really?”  Megan said while waggling her eyebrows.  “What skills are we talking about and which room are they useful in?”    Ella rolled her eyes at her little sister.  “Megan, you just single handedly set the women’s movement back twenty years.”    “Oh, Ella, on the contrary.  The women’s movement involves many theories of women taking back their sexual prowess in the bedroom as a way to challenge the dominant alpha male in the relationship.  Seeing women as sexual equals is a very relevant and useful tool for the advancement of the equality for women in all realms of society.”

“Oh, right, I keep forgetting, for lots and lots of people in the world, the notion of “falling in love” has (of all things) sexual connotations. No, that’s not what I think is happening. For me, what falling in love means is different. It’s a matter of suddenly, globally, “knowing” that another person represents your only access to some vitally transmissible truth or radiantly heightened mode of perception, and that if you lose the thread of this intimacy, both your soul and your whole world might subsist forever in some desert-like state of ontological impoverishment.”

“Oh, right. She doesn’t know your secret identity.” Andy unzipped his sweatshirt and tossed it on a chair. “So, Meg Ryan just sent Tom Hanks a book but…” “No, Meg Ryan just sent NY152 a book, which was then overnighted to Tom Hanks, who lives above Meg Ryan and knows she’s Shopgirl, while she has no idea he’s NY152.” “I’m a little disturbed you know that movie so well.” “It was actually a remake of a 1937 play called Parfumerie by Miklós László.” Paul blew out a breath. “And it’s really not as fun as they made it sound.” “But hey, at least you can say you’ve got mail,” Andy said, chuckling.”

“Oh... Rohan," Kate purred after a dazzled silence. He dragged his glazed eyes open and looked at her glowing face by the flickering illumination from the distant fireplace. He reassured her of his affections with a dazed smile and a gentle kiss. A breathless laugh escaped her while his lips still lingered over hers. When he looked at her again in question, she bit her lower lip, as though to keep herself from saying something she feared might sound silly. "What is it?" he teased barely audibly, cuddling her nose against his own, while his long hair hung down and veiled the private space where they stared into each other's eyes. He never wanted this moment to end.”

“Oh,” said Hazel, “they reacted just about the way the grownups did. They just looked at it and didn’t say anything, just moved on to see what the next thing was.” “What was the next thing?” “It was an iron chair a man had been roasted alive in,” said Crosby. “He was roasted for murdering his son.” “Only, after they roasted him,” Hazel recalled blandly, “they found out he hadn’t murdered his son after all.”

“Oh," said her husband, sounding deeply pleased at something he'd read in his letter. "What?" Bridget sat up, inadvertently spilling several drops of honey on her breast. Sadly, she succumbed to her husband's fondness for nudity soon after their marriage. Valentine glanced up, but his gaze was immediately drawn to the honey slowly dripping down her breast. "Val..." Bridget moved to scoop the honey up with her finger. His hand darted out, catching hers. "Oh, don't," he breathed, leaning over her, forcing her flat on her back. He bent, closing his azure eyes, and licked her breast almost reverently. She shuddered. "It's the middle of the day," she whispered. His eyes opened, wicked and amused. "I know. Your favorite." She smiled up at him, threading her fingers through his golden hair. "I love you." "And I love you," he murmured against her lips, before taking her mouth hard and possessively. Their letters fell to the floor, abandoned, but Bridget didn't care at all. She was with her true love and the world outside could wait.”

“Oh," Sally brightened proud of herself for deciphering his sign language, "you're telling me not to leave my room." Costin nodded his big wolf head again. His eyes had begun glowing back in the party and even now they continued to emit an eerie shade of green. Sally's inner Jen had been triggered as soon as she got the words out. So naturally she did what her inner Jen told her to. She stepped forward putting one toe outside her door. Costin growled, so she stepped back. Watching him coyly she put her other toe outside her door and he growled again. She was inwardly scolding herself for taunting him and allowing her inner Jen to control her actions, but she had discovered long ago that sometimes inner Jen is just more fun. When Sally stuck her foot out for the third time, she giggled when Costin snapped at her. She could tell that he was playing by the way his tail wagged and his eyes lightened, but had not stopped glowing all together.”

“Oh scattered band, once my playmates, you few Who were amidst the gardens here and there in the city, How hesitantly we located one another, took fancies and Like the tapestry lamb whose mute words are on a scroll, Spoke through silence. Our little joys were Never communicated, - Whose indeed were they? And among all the passers-by, those hurriers, how it all Evanesced quite away, weighed down by the torment of the endless year. Past us were drawn the carriages, wholly indifferent, Round us the houses stood strong but not real, - and none Of these were aware of us. What was truly real in it all? Nothing. Only the balls we tossed, their magnificent arcs, But certainly not the children. ... Though sometimes one would step - Alas, one who would soon be lost, - beneath a falling ball.”

“Oh, send thine angels to his blessed side / And bid them there abide. It sounds like a request for reinforcements." Isabel liked the metaphor. We all needed reinforcements, she thought. We wanted others to think the way we did, to protest the values we held dear, to keep at bay the things we thought needed to be kept at bay. If imaginary beings could help to keep our courage up, then there was no harm in that.”

“Oh Senor" said the niece. "Your grace should send them to be burned (books), just like all the rest, because it's very likely that my dear uncle, having been cured of the chivalric disease, will read these and want to become a shepherd and wander through the woods and meadows singing and playing and, what would be even worse, become a poet, and that, they say, is an incurable and contagious disease.”

“oh. she heard it too-no waters coursing, canyon empty, sun soundless- and the beast your life nowhere hiding (p. 103)”