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W Quotes

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

All W Quotes

“Wait, is that... ... a Calzone?!" *A calzone is meat and cheese folded together in a pouch of pizza dough, depending on the area of Italy, calzones are either baked or deep-fried. "Aren't calzones usually stuffed with salami, mozzarella cheese and other pizza toppings?" "Ah, I know! Yes, I was right! This calzone is stuffed with curry! Then this dish is "Italian-Style Curry Bread!" Oh-ho! This dish is already interesting, being so different from all the others! Now let's see what it tastes like." "Mph! Th-this flavor... tomatoes? The curry is bursting with the rich tanginess of tomatoes!" "Yep. I made that curry using only water I extracted from tomatoes." "Tomato water only?! Are you saying you used no other liquid in this curry at all?!" Yes, sir! See, if you stuff a pot full of tomatoes and turn on the heat, you can get a surprising amount of water out of them. I blended a special mix of spices that works with the tart tomato water... ... and made a thick curry sauce that's full of the rich flavor of tomatoes. The crust is a sourdough I made using my family's handmade, natural grape yeast too." The outer crust is crispy and flakey... ...while the inside is chewy and mildly sweet.”

“Wait, is this a nice-ish way of telling me we had sex and I was lousy? That's how you can tell I'm inexperienced? Because, if so, that's just rude. And what were you doing at Shenanigans? And how did you find me on the road?" Gabriel looked wounded. "To answer your questions in order: The only body fluid I exchanged with you is blood--" "That's very comforting, thank you.”

“Wait." Isabelle suddenly sat up straight. "What did you say that name was?" she demanded, turning to Jace. "The name in Clary's head." "I didn't," said Jace. "At least, I didn't finish it. It's Magnus Bane." He grinned at Alec mockingly. "Rhymes with 'overcareful pain in the ass.'" Alec muttered a retort into his coffee. It rhymed with something that sounded a lot more like "ducking glass mole." Clary smiled inwardly.”

“Wait on the Lord" is a constant refrain in the Psalms, and it is a necessary word, for God often keeps us waiting. He is not in such a hurry as we are, and it is not his way to give more light on the future than we need for action in the present, or to guide us more than one step at a time. When in doubt, do nothing, but continue to wait on God. When action is needed, light will come.”

“Wait,” one of the apes objected, “we have never driven a car! What if we destroy everything? The humans might use our lack of experience to add stronger restrictions to apes, and we might look incapable.” “Well,” another member insisted, “that would be absurd. It’s not our fault that we are inexperienced! The humans were the ones who did not give us access to the experience we need! It’s in their nature: discrimination. I mean, they even restricted each other from having education, voting, and career rights!”

“Wait! Orihime! Where are you going?” “To save Ichigo!” “Wait! He’s fine! The one who kidnapped him was the boss at the place he works!” “His boss?” “She said so herself! There’s no mistake!” “You’re sure it wasn’t some weirdo?” “Well, sure she seemed weird, but everyone he hangs out with is weird to a degree!” “You’re right! That goes for me and you too.” “Huh?! Well…yeah, I guess.”

“Wait,” said Ragnor, and he started to snigger. “Is this about your Nephilim boyfriend?” “Our relationship is as yet undefined,” said Magnus with dignity. Then he clutched the phone and hissed, “And how do you know private details about my personal life with Alexander?” “Ooooh, Alexander,” Ragnor said in a singsong voice. “I know all about it. Raphael called and told me.” “Raphael Santiago,” said Magnus, thinking darkly of the current leader of the New York vampire clan, “has a black ungrateful heart, and one day he will be punished for this treachery.”

“Wait till Buzz takes charge of us. A real Fascist dictatorship!" "Nonsense! Nonsense!" snorted Tasbrough. "That couldn't happen here in America, not possibly! We're a country of freemen." "The answer to that," suggested Doremus Jessup, "if Mr. Falck will forgive me, is 'the hell it can't!' Why, there's no country in the world that can get more hysterical—yes, or more obsequious!—than America. Look how Huey Long became absolute monarch over Louisiana, and how the Right Honorable Mr. Senator Berzelius Windrip owns his State. Listen to Bishop Prang and Father Coughlin on the radio—divine oracles, to millions. Remember how casually most Americans have accepted Tammany grafting and Chicago gangs and the crookedness of so many of President Harding's appointees? Could Hitler's bunch, or Windrip's, be worse? Remember the Kuklux Klan? Remember our war hysteria, when we called sauerkraut 'Liberty cabbage' and somebody actually proposed calling German measles 'Liberty measles'? And wartime censorship of honest papers? Bad as Russia! Remember our kissing the—well, the feet of Billy Sunday, the million-dollar evangelist, and of Aimée McPherson, who swam from the Pacific Ocean clear into the Arizona desert and got away with it? Remember Voliva and Mother Eddy?... Remember our Red scares and our Catholic scares, when all well-informed people knew that the O.G.P.U. were hiding out in Oskaloosa, and the Republicans campaigning against Al Smith told the Carolina mountaineers that if Al won the Pope would illegitimatize their children? Remember Tom Heflin and Tom Dixon? Remember when the hick legislators in certain states, in obedience to William Jennings Bryan, who learned his biology from his pious old grandma, set up shop as scientific experts and made the whole world laugh itself sick by forbidding the teaching of evolution?... Remember the Kentucky night-riders? Remember how trainloads of people have gone to enjoy lynchings? Not happen here? Prohibition—shooting down people just because they might be transporting liquor—no, that couldn't happen in America! Why, where in all history has there ever been a people so ripe for a dictatorship as ours!”

“Wait until France gets a hard shot in the nose. Wait until France reacts with some nasty work. They'll get a golf-clap from the chattering class over here and a you-go-girl from Red America. France could nuke an Algerian terrorist camp and the rest of the world would tut-tut for a day, then ask if the missiles France used were for sale. And of course the answer would be oui.”

“Wait until I am stronger and can go with you to protect you. She shook her head. “You keep getting mixed up. I’m supposed to be protecting you. I’m your doctor.” You are my lifemate. There is only one. You are mine. Only one. She lifted her head, green eyes searching his face. “You’ve never lived with a woman? You must have had sex.” Carpathians do not live with any other than their lifemate. Sex is a simple sharing of the body, a pleasure that fades along with emotions after two hundred years if we do not find our lifemate. “I don’t understand. Without a lifemate, Carpathians feel nothing?” Nothing, Shea. Not affection or remorse, not right or wrong. Certainly not desire. After two hundred years Carpathian males cannot feel. Color flooded her face. “You feel desire when you’re with me. I may not be experienced, but I do have medical training.” His fingers tightened around hers, his breath warm along her knuckles. I want you with every cell in my body, with my mind and my heart. Your soul is the other half of mine. When you are with me, I feel. Joy, desire, anger, even laughter. You are my lifemate. I have waited over eight hundred years to find you. I could not see color until you came into my life. His black eyes, worn with suffering, fastened on her green ones. I cannot lose you. I can never be alone again. Mortals and immortals alike would be in danger should I lose you. She didn’t want to touch that. She murmured his name softly, brushed a kiss against his temple almost without knowing it. I cannot exist without you, little red hair. There is darkness in me. The beast is strong. I struggle every moment against loss of control. My lifemate is my anchor. Only you can save me, keep me from walking in complete madness.”

“Wait until the truffles hit the dining room---absolute sex," said Scott. When the truffles arrived the paintings leaned off the walls toward them. They were the grand trumpets of winter, heralding excess against the poverty of the landscape. The black ones came first and the cooks packed them up in plastic quart containers with Arborio rice to keep them dry. They promised to make us risotto with the infused rice once the truffles were gone. The white ones came later, looking like galactic fungus. They immediately went into the safe in Chef's office. "In a safe? Really?" "The trouble we take is in direct proportion to the trouble they take. They are impossible," Simone said under her breath while Chef went over the specials. "They can't be that impossible if they are on restaurant menus all over town." I caught her eye. "I'm kidding." "You can't cultivate them. The farmers used to take female pigs out into the countryside, lead them to the oaks, and pray. They don't use pigs anymore, they use well-behaved dogs. But they still walk and hope." "What happened to the female pigs?" Simone smiled. "The scent smells like testosterone to them. It drives them wild. They destroyed the land and the truffles because they would get so frenzied." I waited at the service bar for drinks and Sasha came up beside me with a small wooden box. He opened it and there sat the blanched, malignant-looking tuber and a small razor designed specifically for it. The scent infiltrated every corner of the room, heady as opium smoke, drowsing us. Nicky picked up the truffle in his bare hand and delivered it to bar 11. He shaved it from high above the guest's plate. Freshly tilled earth, fields of manure, the forest floor after a rain. I smelled berries, upheaval, mold, sheets sweated through a thousand times. Absolute sex.”

“Wait, wait,' he began, interrupting Oblonsky. 'Aristocratism, you say. But allow me to ask, what makes up this aristocratism of Vronsky or whoever else it may be - such aristocratism that I can be scorned? You consider Vronsky an aristocrat, but I don't. A man whose father crept out of nothing by wiliness, whose mother, God knows who she didn't have liaisons with... No, excuse me, but I consider myself an aristocrat and people like myself, who can point to three or four honest generations in their families' past, who had a high degree of education (talent and intelligence are another thing), and who never lowered themselves before anyone, never depended on anyone, as my father lived, and my grandfather. And I know many like that. You find it mean that I count the trees in the forest, while you give away thirty thousand to Ryabinin; but you'll have rent coming in and I don't know what else, while I won't, and so I value what I've inherited and worked for... We're the aristocrats, and not someone who can only exist on hand-outs from the mighty of this world and can be bought for twenty kopecks. 'But who are you attacking? I agree with you,' said Stepan Arkadyich sincerely and cheerfully, though he felt Levin included him among those who could be bought for twenty kopecks.”