Quotes About Jeering

Still here, Faulkner? Luke sneered. Still doing that terrible impression of Draco Malfoy? I asked.

derision. (Psalm

In the evening we are taken to see Rain. I discover Joan Crawford. I think you told me you loved her. So do I. Her face haunts me. The dream-like exaggeration of features, the big mouth, the mouth. The story is ridiculous. The French are jeering. Absolutely jeering and there is almost a scene. The Americans are weeping. Joan Crawford as slut and as angel . . . magnificent.

Mayakovsky, brazen poet of the revolution, sicced his jeering muses on gourmet fancies: Eat your pineapples, gobble your grouse Your last day is coming, you bourgeois louse!

In fourth grade we played hard. The fifth-grade girls played four square, too, but they didn't jeer at each other when they played, and they hit the ball gently from square to square. Their slowness seemed deliberate, as if they were dancing. Their skirts brushed slowly against their knees as they swayed. It wasn't so much that they looked different; they just looked as if they knew they were being watched.

Love is a jeering mime.

I can't help it. I was born sneering.

If you know that youth is dying on the run and my daughter trades dope stories with your son we'd better see what all our fearing and our jeering and our crying and our lying brought about. Take Time Out.

We did not notice the jeering glances of the passengers, a lubber-like assembly, who marvelled that two fellow beings should be so companionable; as though a white man were anything more dignified than a white-washed negro.

They would owe most of their success to a curious rape mania that rides on the shoulder of American journalism like some jeering, masturbating raven. Nothing grabs an editor's eye like a good rape.

In moments the whole assembly was rocking with jeering laughter as I stood ridiculously before them. My hands clenched uncontrollably; I had been prepared for any humiliation but the martyrdom of laughter.

They continued to jeer at him, but he said nothing more. He leaned on the rail, looking down at the trout which he had already spent, and suddenly the acrimony, the conflict, was gone from their voices…they too partaking of that adult trait of being convinced of anything by an assumption of silent superiority. I suppose that people, using themselves and each other so much by words, are at least consistent in attributing wisdom to a still tongue…

The devil damn thee black, thou cream-faced loon! Where got'st thou that goose look?

He was dignity distorted, bravery become knavery, sanctimoniousness masking sin. He was a mirror, jeering at the subject it reflected. Yet so muted were the jeers, so delicate the inaccuracies of delineation, that they evaded detection. True and false were blended together. The false was merely an extended shadow of the true.

Seeing Seb's jeering face, it came to her that Seb had always loved her the way most people bear a grudge.

The best way to drive out the devil, if he will not yield to texts of Scripture, is to jeer and flout him, for he cannot bear scorn.

From there, Elisha went up to Bethel, and as he was walking up the road, a group of boys came out of the city and jeered at him, chanting, “Go up, you baldhead! Go up, you baldhead!”