Phones Quotes (page 9)
I wanna get back. To the old days. When the phone would ring. And I knew it was you. I wanna talk back. And get yelled at. Fight for nothing. Like we used to. Oh kiss me. Like you mean it. Like you miss me. Cuz I know you do. I wanna get back, get back. I wanna get back, get back. I wanna get back, get back. Get Back
Demi Lovato
I loved taking off. In my own house, I seemed to be often looking for a place to hide - sometimes from the children but more often from the jobs to be done and the phone ringing and the sociability of the neighborhood. I wanted to hide so that I could get busy at my real work, which was a sort of wooing of distant parts of myself.
Alice Munro
[Calvin, who has the chicken pox, calls Susie on the telephone.] Susie: Hello? Calvin: Hi, Susie! It's me, Calvin! I was wondering if you'd like to come over and play. Susie: Why, sure! Boy, I don't think you've ever invited me to... Calvin's Mom: Calvin, what are you doing? Calvin: Nothing, Mom. Go away. Calvin's Mom: You're contagious! You can't have anyone over to play! Calvin: Shhhh! Shhhh! You'll spoil the whole thing! I was going to trick Susie into catching... HEY! OW! LET GO! Susie:...
Bill Watterson
Remember when only a few people had mobile phones. Generally regarded as an object of derision, you would occasionally see business types clutching those ridiculous grey bricks to their faces and mutter to yourself 'what a prick.' Nowadays, an eyebrow hardly even flutters when we see a ten-year-old child happily texting away. You probably wouldn't notice anyway; you'd be too busy downloading an app that could definitively pinpoint who it was that had just farted in your tube carriage.
Simon Pegg
It seemed to me that, somehow, the blue jay was trying to communicate with me. I would see him fly into the house across the way, pick up the telephone, and dial. My phone would ring, and it would be him, but it was just this squawking and cheeping. "What?! What?!" I would yell back, but he never did speak English.
Abraham Lincoln
in the cupboard sits my bottlelike a dwarf waiting to scratch out my prayers. I drink and cough like some idiot at a symphony, sunlight and maddened birds are everywhere, the phone rings gamboling its soundagainst the odds of the crooked sea; I drink deeply and evenly now, I drink to paradiseand deathand the lie of love.
Charles Bukowski