Quotes About Shaftoe

Bobby Shaftoe's gone to sea,Silver buckles on his knee;He'll come back and marry me,Pretty Bobby Shaftoe.

Now there are many Shaftoes—mostly in Tennessee—but the Shaftoe family tree still fits on a cross-stitch sampler.

Shaftoe opens his eyes just as the tarp is being peeled back from the open top of the truck. He stares straight up into a blue Italian sky torn around the edges by the scrabbling branches of desperate trees. "Shit!" he says. "What's wrong, Sarge?" "I just always say that when I wake up," Shaftoe says.

its speedometer. But the bamboo grove in Bobby Shaftoe's haiku has not been added just to put a little Oriental flavor into the poem and wow the folks back home in Oconomowoc.

Men of the other type—the ones who use speech as a tool of their work, who are confident and fluent—aren't necessarily more intelligent, or even more educated. It took Shaftoe a long time to figure that out.

I have let you live, but for one purpose only: so that you can make your way back to Paris and tell them the following: that the deed you are about to witness was done for a woman, whose name I will not say, for she knows who she is; and that it was done by 'Half-Cocked' Jack Shaftoe, L'Emmerdeur, the King of the Vagabonds, Ali Zaybak: Quicksilver!

It is October and the days are growing short. Shaftoe and Bischoff, both mired in the yet-to-be-discovered emotional dumps of Seasonal Affective Disorder, are like two brothers trapped in the same pit of quicksand, each keeping a sharp eye on the other.

Do you know what I'm saying, Shaftoe?" "Sir, no sir! But I do detect a strong odor of politics in the room now, sir!

You heard of Mary Jane?" Root asks. Shaftoe—role model, leader of men—stifles the impulse to say, Heard of her? I've fucked her!