Quotes About Surprise

I woke up. That surprised me, in itself.

Butters blinked and looked at Thomas. "My God," he said. "You've been shot." Thomas hooked a thumb at Butters. "Check out Dr. Marcus Welby, MD, here." "I'd have gone with Doogie Howser, maybe," I said. "Split the difference at McCoy?" Thomas asked. "Perfect." "You've been shot!" Butters repeated, exasperated.

I tapped Boz on the shoulder and said, "Hey, gorgeous." His face twisted in complete surprise, turning to stare in blank incomprehension at mine. I winked at him, and whispered, "Boo.

Everything's never in the open, son," he responded. "There're things we keep hidden from one another. Things we hide from ourselves. Things that are kept hidden from us. And things no one knows. You always learn the damnedest things at the worst possible times. Or that's been my experience.

The mailman walked towards my office door, half an hour earlier than usual. He didn't sound right. His footsteps fell more heavily, jauntily, and he whistled. A new guy. He whistled his way to my office door and then fell silent for a moment. Then he laughed.

You know what, Harry, I don't think this is a garden at all! Genius.

I drove my right fist into its stupid, creepy face. Man, the yahoos I scrap with never seem to anticipate that tactic. They all assume that what with me being a wizard and all, I'm going to stand back and chuck Magic Missiles at them or something, then scream and run away the second they get close enough to let me see the whites of their eyes.

Oh wow!" Maggie exclaimed. "Santa's real! And he left me a bike!

It was that last phrase that did it. It hit me like a bucket of cold water. Maggie.

Matson threw up his skinny arms to protect himself as something huge and quick shoved its way between the bars, like a big dog going through a rotten picket fence, and engulfed him.

I blinked at that, confused. I'm not supposed to be the guy who doesn't get the reference joke, dammit.

You've played me at my own game, and ably. I thought you capable of nothing but overt action. Clearly I underestimated you." "Don't feel bad," I said. "I mean, I look so stupid.

Don't care how Titanic you are. No one expects an orbital-drop grizzly.

Michael was looking at me very oddly as he lowered the Sword. "What?" I asked him. "Charity," he predicted, "is not going to be pleased.

Although it felt much longer, within a few seconds the pilot came over the loudspeaker. He spoke in German and Roxanne couldn't discern much from the tone of his voice. Then she heard the passengers who could understand him audibly gasp. This made her even more frightened. Finally, in somewhat broken English, the pilot announced that airspace over the United States was closed and he had been ordered to land in Gander, Newfoundland. He offered no further explanation.

What surprised him was not the urge. What surprised him was the need to stay.

Nothing on my trip thus far was as I expected which shows you that rather than simply read about the United States you have to log the journey.

He had wished for a dog, and as though some good fairy had waved a magic wand, there was a dog.

Two Iranians lectured him in broken English about the Bill of Rights, followed by an indignant Sri Lankan couple who scolded him for ruining their honeymoon. Brandon stepped into the woods to pee later that night and nine Venezuelans surrendered. The shit-magnet razzing roared to new heights.

How could this have happened when everything was normal?

Grief, when it comes, is nothing we expect it to be.

wrote, "despite our preparation, indeed, despite our age, dislodges things deep in us, sets off reactions that surprise us and that may cut free memories and feelings that we had thought gone to ground long ago.

death of a parent, he wrote, "despite our preparation, indeed, despite our age, dislodges things deep in us, sets off reactions that surprise us and that may cut free memories and feelings that we had thought gone to ground long ago.

The death of a parent, despite our preparation, indeed, despite our age, dislodges things deep in us, sets off reactions that surprise us and that may cut free memories and feelings that we had thought gone to ground long ago. We might, in that indeterminate period they call mourning, be in a submarine, silent on the ocean's bed, aware of the depth charges, now near and now far, buffeting us with recollections.