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S Quotes

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

All S Quotes

“So it's like your brain has a large filing cabinet and it's opening up each drawer and it's taking in various images and memories from the day, consolidating what it needs to and puts in whatever file. And then if there's something that doesn't fit in any of the files and doesn't really belong, you'll forget about it. So it's a way of really getting a succinct way of storing things in your brain.”

“So it's not gonna be easy. It's going to be really hard; we're gonna have to work at this everyday, but I want to do that because I want you. I want all of you, forever, everyday. You and me... everyday.”

“So it's not really whether you talk about politics, but how well were you able to do it. Peter Gabriel and Sting get away with it...U2...the examples are there, of people being able to carry these subjects in the music, and the audience is absolutely able to embrace subjects that aren't just the stuff they already know about. And they're actually able to learn stuff.”

“So it's Rosemary Clooney - Rosemary? Rosemary Clooney, right? The singer? Yes. Clooney, doing, singing, "I've Grown Accustomed To Your Face," which is, you know, really a love song, but what we see on stage is we see one puppet that's got a ridiculous blonde wig on and she looks ridiculous, and next to her is a head that's just a piece of fabric with a pretty face on it.”

“So Jafar knows I'm in the city- he probably already knew that. He doesn't know where I'll be next. Because... I never stay still. I never sleep in the same place twice. I move like the wind and the shadows. I am sheltered by the good and faithful all over Agrabah, in every neighborhood. Go crawling back to your master, scum. Tell him that I am the eyes and ears of my people, and they do not want him.”

“So Janie waited a bloom time, and a green time and an orange time. But when the pollen again gilded the sun and sifted down on the world she began to stand around the gate and expect things. What things? She didn't know exactly. Her breath was gusty and short. She knew things that nobody had ever told her. For instance, the words of the trees and the wind. She often spoke to falling seeds and said, 'Ah hope you fall on soft ground,' because she had heard seeds saying that to each other as they passed. She knew the world was a stallion rolling in the blue pasture of ether. She knew that God tore down the old world every evening and built a new one by sun-up. It was wonderful to see it take form with the sun and emerge from the gray dust of its making. The familiar people and things had failed her so she hung over the gate and looked up the road towards way off. She knew now that marriage did not make love. Janie's first dream was dead, so she became a woman.”

“So, Jessamine,” said Lucie. “Can ghosts lie?” “Certainly not!” Jessamine looked shifty. “Ghosts are completely honest. I keep telling you, it was mice who knocked your silver mirror behind the desk and broke it.” “It appears clear that if ghosts are liars, they are terrible liars,” said James. Matthew sighed. “It is very strange to see you conversing with the invisible.” “Humph,” said Jessamine. She wobbled a bit and firmed up, her outlines clearing as she drifted down toward the floor. Shadowhunters, having the Sight, could generally see ghosts who wanted to be seen, but Lucie knew it was an effort for Jessamine to make herself visible to all eyes. “Oh!” said Cordelia. “It’s very nice to meet you, Jessamine. Lucie speaks of you often.” Jessamine beamed. “You are a very attractive ghost,” said Matthew, tapping his ringed fingers against his chest. “I do hope Lucie and James have mentioned as much.” “They have not,” Jessamine noted. “Very remiss,” said Matthew, his eyes sparkling. “You are not at all like Henry,” said Jessamine, eyeing Matthew speculatively. “He was forever setting things on fire, and not a compliment to be heard.” “Jessamine,” Lucie said. “This is important! Do tell us, can ghosts lie? Not you, of course, my dear.” “Ghosts can lie,” Jessamine conceded.”

“So, Jim, are you going to sing a solo at the Christmas concert?" Bruce Holtzman whispered to me as we sat in our usual seats in the back of the crescent-shaped dais, strategically placed between the basses and the tenors. “I know you’ve been saying you don’t want to, but you still have a few days to practice – if you change your mind, that is.” “I don’t think so,” I muttered back as quietly and firmly as possible. Class was still in session, and even though Mrs. Quincy was easygoing and not as strict as some of the other teachers at South Miami High School, she still expected us to focus on learning our songs for the concert and behaving like mature young adults. Not like “a bunch of undisciplined hooligans,” as she once put it. “But it’s an easy way to get extra credit,” Bruce persisted. “I don’t get it. You’ve been a Singing Cobra for what? Nearly a year now? And we only get a few chances to shine per semester, you know.” “Bruce,” I said, trying to keep my voice low and calm so as not to draw attention. “I don’t mind singing in a group, as part of a larger unit. Singing a solo? That’s another story altogether.” “Why? What’s the difference?” “I don’t know,” I confessed. “Safety in numbers, maybe? I’m perfectly happy to sing the songs in the program and let others who want to sing a solo strut their stuff. I get nauseous at the thought of going on stage and singing all by myself in front of everyone in the auditorium.” “Why, Jim,” Bruce exclaimed with a surprised, puzzled tone, “don’t tell me you still get stage fright!” “Hey,” I snapped, “pipe down, man. Do you want us to get in trouble with Mrs. Quincy? I’m not doing a solo. End of story.” “Okay, okay,” Bruce said in a placating tone. “But that extra credit sure will look good on your transcripts come next year. Especially if you want to get a scholarship.”

“So, judges, what was your favorite dish?" The producer stepped back so the cameras could pan over the long table. Tarquin answered. "A crisp almond tart." Sophia's heart began to pound. "Smooth lemony custard. Light as air." She clenched the edge of her worktable. "Only one person chose the boysenberries as an ingredient today. They were ripe, juicy, bursting with flavor. But somewhat difficult to wrestle with in terms of tartness. This contestant made a truly inspired syrup, infused with basil... and lemon thyme, I think." Jonathan shrugged. "I can't wait to find out how this syrup was created." Sophia started to sway. The blogger smiled. "I love lemon. It's bright. It's sunny. But I don't have a big sweet tooth. This dish was not too sweet. It was lovely." "And best of all," Tarquin interrupted, "a little surprise under the tart. Hidden. Using the organic bittersweet chocolate we provided. Well played." "And the flowers!" Jenny sighed. "This plate captures the very essence of summer. Sprinkled with flower petals.”