W Quotes
Browse famous quotes beginning with W. This page is a child index of the full Popular Quotes A-Z directory.
“What’s wrong with being optimistic? What’s wrong in believing people can change for the better? What’s wrong with encouraging a bright outlook? What’s wrong with trying to help someone change for the better—to better themselves?”
Source: Replay: White
“What's wrong with (Captain) Jack Aubrey?"
"Everything, since he has a command and I have not.”
Source: Master & Commander
“What's wrong with Disneyland? It brings joy to millions and tutors children about the corporate, overbranded world they've been born into.”
Source: The Noble Hustle: Poker, Beef Jerky, and Death
“What's wrong with his foot?" Said Reed.
"Why even ask? It's Jason we're talking about here. He get's injured by breathing." Colt chuckled.
I grit my teeth. "That was one time and the doctor said it could happen to anyone."
"I googled it!" Max said helpfully. "It happens to llamas. And those dodo birds - the really stupid ones.”
Source: The Consequence of Rejection
“What’s wrong with Louis?” asked Ron. “Is he sick or something?”
“Yes,” said Jenny. “He’s got a real bad disease. And it’s spelled L-O-V-E.”
Source: Wayside School Gets A Little Stranger
“What's wrong with lying?... A lie is a blow to the tyranny of fact.”
Source: Warp
“What's wrong with me? I lose my footing, in here.' He touched his head. 'When a neuro-typical looses their footing, they yell or escape to the TV, or maybe the doctor throws them on depression meds. But when I slip, I fall all the way through. I feel the ground give way and I'm gone. It's a crack -- a crack in what's real, and beneath there I'm stuck. Then, I guess I become someone else. Mom says I still know my name, but I walk a different world. The shrink calls it DID -- Dissociative Identity Disorder -- with a little added autism to spice up my other personality. I suppose he's right, but only I know how it feels to slip through the cracks. Then the monster shows up.”
Source: Both of Me
“What's wrong with me? ... I might seem like the ideal student: homework always in early, every extra credit and extra curricular I can get my hands on, the good girl and the high achiever. But I realized something just now: it's not ambition, not entirely. It's fear. Because I don't know who I am when I'm not working, when I'm not focused on or totally consumed by a task. Who am I between the projects and the assignments, when there's nothing to do? I haven't found her yet and it scares me. Maybe that's why, for my senior capstone project this year, I decided to solve a murder.”
Source: A Good Girl's Guide to Murder
“What’s wrong with my clothing?' she asked, glancing down the length of her body, clothed in a tank top and shorts.
He helped her up, unable to stifle a grin. 'Let’s just say women do not dress like that in 1863.”
Source: Ghostly Encounter
“What's wrong with my proposition?"
Poirot rose. "If you will forgive me for being personal - I do not like your face.”
Source: Murder on the Orient Express
“What’s wrong with nature shows?”
“You can’t believe anything the narrators say. One claimed that some animals mate for life. Come on, they need time off to eat and sleep, don’t they?”
“What’s wrong with standing in the same place if it’s a good place?” “Even a good place gets to be a rut, especially if you’re standing in it alone. Honey, alone and lonely share the same root.”
Source: Chasing Fire
“What's wrong with Starbucks?" - Levi Stewart”
“What's wrong with the world?
It's easy to probe the ills of the nation, the Church, and the planet and come up with a grave diagnosis... But it takes all the strength we can muster to stand at Mass and honestly say, 'I have greatly sinned, in my thoughts and in my words, in what I have done and what I have failed to do..."
Sin is not out there; it's deep inside you and me... What's wrong with the world? I am, because I sin, and my sins well up from the darkness in my own heart.”
“What's wrong with writing about love? Everybody longs for love.”
“What's wrong with you? I look at you
and I find nothing in you but two eyes
like all eyes, a mouth
lost among a thousand mouths that I have kissed, more beautiful,
a body just like those that have slipped
beneath my body without leaving any memory.”
Source: The Poetry of Pablo Neruda
“What’s your ability again?” I asked Brendan at breakfast the next morning. With so few memories to clog my brain, I shouldn’t have forgotten this quickly.
“Ditching best friends for a pretty face, is what it’s called.”
Source: Adaptive
“What’s your biggest idea to accomplish within the next two years? Break it down into smaller more manageable parts until you know what you must do this week to reach the next milestone.”
“What’s your business, Sir?”
“Jus’ call me Gord. Labour relations.”
“What’s that?”
“I’m a broker, kid. Middlemen need workers an’ wagons t’ bring
their recyclings south. I’m the one who supplies ‘em.”
“Where are they now?”
“Over there, you can just see the wagons under the tubes. The
men sleep under ‘em.”
“They’re shackled.”
“Yup.”
“Prisoners?”
“Nope. Indentured labour.”
Source: Against the Machine: Evolution
“What's your definition of dating?
Lengthy social time spent with a woman during which we're not actively fucking”
Source: Bared to You
“What's your enterprise of choice?"
Vane grinned. "Hops."
Patience blinked. "Hops?"
"A vital ingredient used to flavor and clarify beers. I own Pembury Manor, an estate near Tunbridge in Kent."
"And you grow hops?"
Vane's smile teased. "As well as apples, pears, cherries, and cob nuts."
Drawing back in her saddle, Patience stared at him. "You're a farmer!"
One brown brow rose. "Among other things."
Recognizing the glint in his eyes, she swallowed a humph.”
Source: A Rake's Vow
“What's your favorite color?" asked Sylvi.
"I don't have one."
"How can you not have one?"
Deep blue like the True Sea. Red like the roofs of the Shu temples. The pure, buttery color of sunlight—not really yellow or gold, what would you call it? All the colors you couldn't see in the dark.”
Source: The Demon in the Wood
“What's your favorite color?"
"My favorite color?" I hum under my breath.
"Yellow, I guess. Well, it's not really yellow." I tilt my head up to look directly at the center of the sun, feeling the burn of the light searing into my irises.
"You know when the sun is at its highest in the sky and when you stare into it, it's the brightest white but the softest yellow? That. It looks how I imagine blinding hope and freedom of possibility would, if we all lived without limitations and expectations.”
“What's your favorite?'
I must have looked confused. That's my trick; no one ever asks me which chocolate I prefer.
'Let me guess,' said the man in black, and, looking over the display, seemed to consider the chocolates, the candied fruits, the nougatines. Lingered for a moment over the green tea truffles; the salted pralines. Then he looked up, and his sea-blue eyes were filled with crazed reflections.
'You didn't like chocolate at first,' he said. 'You never used to eat it. But now, you're starting to understand. Its power to awaken the past; its dark and troubled history. The stories it tells about itself. It's many re-inventions. Ah. Here we are.' He paused at a tray of chocolate-dipped cherries, still with the stalks attached, and said. 'These, I think, Vianne Rocher. Dark chocolate, not always your favorite, but here, with cherries, it evokes something almost magical. Bite through the bitter chocolate shell to the brandied fruit inside. Hold the little stone on the tongue. Roll it gently around your mouth, like a long-kept secret.' He smiled, and I found myself liking him in spite of the coldness in my heart: the Man in Black has a kind of charm that I would never have suspected.
I said: 'You may be right, monsieur. Yours is---' A gilded thread in the air. A little bastide on the Garonne. Not Vianne, but somewhere close; light, like the bloom on an apricot, a sky like the edge of forever----
I said, in a slightly trembling voice: 'Apricot hearts. They're your favorite.”
Source: Vianne
“What’s your favorite part of the trip?”
“I don’t have one.”
“C’mon, there must’ve been something.”
“I took a weekend trip to Caño Cristales. I liked seeing the different colors of the river. It was like a liquid rainbow.” Many of the students had spent their time traveling around Colombia on the weekends. No one had a car, but we could hop on a plane for fairly cheap and fly into different areas such as Bogotá, the country’s official capital city, or Cali, the salsa-dancing capital of the world. Amanda had even convinced me to fly with her to the seductive, sizzling city of Cartagena. We climbed the fortified walls that had once protected the city from pirate attacks and watched the sunset. The entire city had a Miami-style skyline and, after the sun went down, infatuation seemed to bloom into fever and take hold of the city. At night we could hear the clink of rum bottles and mojito glasses in cafés on almost every street as moonlight picked out the silhouettes of softly swaying couples. We walked for hours along the coastal city streets. Candle flames beckoned from the dimness of nearby baroque churches.”
“What’s your favorite place to visit?” He absently answered, “Wherever you are.”
“Bowen, five things about you can’t all be about me.”
But you’re the only good thing that I’ve got.”
Source: Wicked Deeds on a Winter's Night
“What’s your favorite rumor?” I whispered.
“All of them.” Meir breathed in my hair. “For starters, people say that I wear collared shirts to hide the marks you leave on me.”
Source: The Smitten Sky: An Enemies to Lovers Dark Fantasy Romance
“What's your favourite painting?'
'Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte,' Win says without hesitation. 'By Georges Seurat.'
'Isn't that the one made up of dots?'
'Pointillism. Yeah. It represents the two sides of art that I love-on one habd, it's just beautifully rendered because the artist made sure every inch of the canvas was pulsing with life. But there's a whole other side of it - pointillism is a metaphor for society and politics. Painting dot by dot stands in for the industrial revolution and how it was filtering into leisure time in society. I could write a whoe paper on it.' She smiles. 'I did.'
'Sounds like a perfect marriage of skill and significance, 'I say.
'A perect marriage, ' Win repeats. 'Yes.”
Source: The Book of Two Ways
“What's your idea of November?” he asked, his eyes half-closed.
I wanted to tell him that it was mostly the opening of the bird season, and the Thanksgiving holidays, the persimmons wrinkled and ripe on the trees, when the weather was real nice, and it was hog-killing time in the country, and the pumpkins looked yellow and jolly in the fields, and the sun set good and red, and a lot of other things, but I couldn’t manage to squeeze it all out because I had no way with words.
“The bird season,” I said.
- November Was Always the Best By Robert Ruark”
Source: The Greatest Quail Hunting Book Ever, Collector’s Edition
“What’s your job occupation? I am a zookeeper teaching sign language to blind Gorillas.”
“What’s your name, Farm Boy?”
“Charlie Heggensford, ma’am.” He stuck out his hand and she smiled as she shook it.”
Source: Fluffers, Inc.
“What’s your name?” he asked, a boyish grin creeping across his face.
“Henley Brooks,” I murmured, tucking my hair behind my ear.
“My name's Lucas.”
“I know,” I replied, regretting the words as soon as they left my mouth. His grin grew larger as he ran his fingers through his dark hair.
“No wonder you look so scared.”
Source: Shameless
“What's your name?" he asked above the roar of the music.
She leaned close. "My name is Wind," she whispered. "And Rain. And Bone and Dust. My name is a snippet of a half-remembered song."
He chuckled a low, delightful sound. She was drunk and silly, and so full of the glory of being young and alive and in the capital of the world that she could hardly contain herself.
"I have no name," she purred. "I am whoever the keepers of my fate tell me to be."
He grasped her by her wrist, running a thumb along the sensitive sknin underneath. "Then let me call you Mine for a dance or two.”
Source: The Assassin and the Underworld
“What’s your name?”
“My name is that of all women,” the woman replied. “Sorrow.”
Source: Blue Lily, Lily Blue
“What's your name, New Bite?" he asked.
"June," I said, keeping my voice even.
"Smokey. You want me to kick this one's ass for getting you into this situation?" he asked, while jabbing a thumb in Dom's direction.
"Not right now, thank you. Maybe later, I haven't decided yet.”
Source: Dirty Lying Wolves
“What's your name."
"Um......" I don't know why I hesitate, but Betrise just doesn't sound right anymore. I have a chance to be remade here. A new fraction, a new name.
"Tris," I say firmly.
"Welcome to dauntless," he says to me.”
Source: Divergent
“What's your name?
What do you do?
Do you want to do anything else, and if so what is it?
What's your first memory?
What's the most amazing thing you've ever witnessed?
What's the best thing about being you? What's the worst?
If you could switch bodies with someone for 24 hours, who would it be? What three superpowers do you wish you had?
What is life going to look like in the year 3000?
How far is a light year?
What have you been listening to lately?
Do you have any secret talents?
What would you do on your last day on Earth?”
Source: Frank Ocean - Blond
“what's your name?"
what?" i asked, squinting at the light.
your name." I reconized Dr. Olendzki peering over me.
you know my name."
I want you to tell me."
Rose. Rose Hathaway."
Do you know your birthday?"
Of course I do. Why are you asking me such stupid things? Did you lose my records?"
Dr. Olendzki gave an exasperated sigh and walked off, taking the annoying light with her. "I think she's fine,”
Source: Frostbite
“What's your one wish tonight?”
Source: The Fall of Gods
“What's your pick?"
"Jesus Camp"
"Never heard of it, Is it a slasher flick?"
'It's a documentary." We all laughed but he didn't seem to be joking. "I'm telling you, if that movie doesn't scare you, nothing will."
Jared looked at hi in astonishment. "A documentary about religion?"
"It's not about religion. It's about fanaticism. Not the same thing."
Angelo was looking thoughtful, and I knew we'd have a copy by the end of the month.”
Source: A to Z
“What’s your poison or should I just waste my money by guessing something you probably won’t even drink? I’d much rather get you something you like.”
Source: A Ghost In New Orleans
“What's your source of inner peace? asked the Imam today at the Friday Prayer. I smiled wide instantly and whispered, 'Knowing that she is mine'.”
“What's your story, then?' Cassian said to me with a jerk of his chin.
I'd assumed Rhysand had told them everything. Rhys merely shrugged at me.
So I straightened. 'I was born to a wealthy merchant family, with two older sisters and parents who only cared about their money and social standing. My mother died when I was eight; my father lost his fortune three years later. He sold everything to pay off his debts, moved us into a hovel, and didn't bother to find work while he let us slowly starve for years. I was fourteen when the last of the money ran out, along with the food. He wouldn't work- couldn't, because the debtors came and shattered his leg in front of us. So I went into the forest and taught myself to hunt. And I kept us all alive, if not near starvation at times, for five years. Until... everything happened.”
Source: A Court of Mist and Fury
“What's your type?' she asked.
'Well, the right person wouldn't need to know.”
Source: The Goodbye Song
“What's your usual gig?"
"Physical fitness coach. I find it rather humdrum. Your assignment will be a welcome break in the quotidian ennui.”
Source: Perseus Spur
“What’s your version of old-fashioned discipline?”
“A belt across the back! I felt the belt a few times growing up. Didn’t hurt the way I turned out.”
Source: Cindy Divine: The Little Girl Who Frightened Kings
“What’s your version of the perfect guy?”
“I guess I’d like someone who proves he cares by his actions instead of just saying it all the time.”
“That’s reasonable.”
“And I’d like someone who has his own life, too. You know I work a lot of hours at the hospital, and I like what I do. I imagine I’d come to resent a guy who expects me to work a nine-to-five schedule just because it fits his needs.”
“Anything else?”
“But he still has to be—” she cut herself off.
“Good in bed?”
Source: Naked Truth
“What sad faces one always sees in the asylums for orphans! It is more fatal to neglect the heart than the head.”
Source: The Collected Works of Theodore Parker: Sermons. Prayers
“What saddens me is the corruption of youth and beauty, and the loss of soul, which is only replaced by money.”
“What sadness lengthens Romeo's hours?
Romeo: Not having that, which, having, makes them short.”
Source: Romeo and Juliet