Call Quotes (page 77)
-
-
-
yeah, i'm a rocket ship on my way to marson a collision coursei am a satellite i'm out of controli am a sex machine ready to reloadlike an atom bomb about tooh oh oh oh oh explodei'm burnin' through the sky yeahtwo hundred degreesthat's why they call me mister fahrenheiti'm trav'ling at the speed of lighti wanna make a supersonic woman of you
Freddie Mercury
Do you have your own room, Charlie Brown?"Oh, yes... I have a very nice room."I hope you realize that you won't always have your own room... Someday you'll get drafted or something, and you'll have to leave your room forever!"Why do you tell me things like that?"It's on a list I've made up for you... I call it, Things You Might As Well Know!
Charles M. Schulz
(Talks about a school production) 'There was one solo; but it was a guy. It was this character called 'Freddy Fast Talk' and it was the bad guy. I didn't care, I was like I will dress up like a guy, I want to sing that song. And so I remembered we drew on eyebrows, and I had like a moustache, and we put all my hair up in this hat. So I dressed like a guy and sang the solo.
Taylor Swift
[The Devil] And me? I suffer, and still I do not live. I am an x in an indeterminate equation. I am some sort of ghost of life who has lost all ends and beginnings, and I've finally even forgotten what to call myself...You're eternally angry, you want reason only, but I will repeat to you once more that I would give all of that life beyond the stars, all ranks and honors, only to be incarnated in the soul of a two-hundred-and-fifty-pound merchant's wife and light candles to God.
Fyodor Dostoevsky
Evening by evening. Among the Brookside rushes, Laura bow'd her head to hear, Lizzie veil'd her blushes: Crouching close together. In the cooling weather, With clasping arms and cautioning lips, With tingling cheeks and fingertips."lie close," Laura said, Pricking up her golden head:"We must not look at Goblin men, We must not buy their fruits: who knows upon the soil they fed. Their hungry thirsty roots?"Come buy," call the Goblins. Hobbling down the glen
Christina G. Rossetti
Jack? . . . No, there is very little music in the name Jack, if any at all, indeed. It does not thrill. It produces absolutely no vibrations . . . I have known several Jacks, and they all, without exception, were more than usually plain. Besides, Jack is a notorious domesticity for John! And I pity any woman who is married to a man called John. She would probably never be allowed to know the entrancing pleasure of a single moment’s solitude. The only really safe name is Ernest.
Oscar Wilde
On Chesil Beach he could have called out to Florence, he could have gone after her. He did not know, or would not have cared to know, that as she ran away from him, certain in her distress that she was about to lose him, she had never loved him more, or more hopelessly, and that the sound of his voice, would have been a deliverance, and she would have turned back.
Ian Mcewan
