Quotes About Boy

So with my luck, I'll never make it in time to save the boy in the forest because my hair will have snagged on a tree branch a mile back.

If I hear 'Karma Chameleon' one more time, I swear I'm going to find Boy George and make him eat Jesse's record. What does red, gold, and green have to do with anything anyway? (Gloria)

The old lady pulled her spectacles down and looked over them about the room; then she put them up and looked out under them. She seldom or never looked through them for so small a thing as a boy; they were her state pair, the pride of her heart, and were built for style, not service — she could have seen through a pair of stove-lids just as well. She looked perplexed for a moment, and then said, not fiercely, but still loud enough for the furniture to hear:

Dear me, what would this barren vocabulary get out of the mightiest spectacle?—the burning of Rome in Nero's time, for instance? Why, it would merely say, 'Town burned down; no insurance; boy brast a window, fireman brake his neck!' Why, THAT ain't a picture!

TOM! No answer. TOM! No answer. What's gone with that boy, I wonder? You TOM! No answer. The old lady pulled her spectacles down and looked over them about the room; then she put them up and looked out under them. She seldom or never looked THROUGH them for so small a thing as a boy; they were her state pair, the pride of her heart, and were built for style, not service-- she could have seen through a pair of stove-lids just as well.

he hoped she would be happy, and never regret having driven her poor boy out into the unfeeling world to suffer and die.

The old lady pulled her spectacles down and looked over them about the room; then she put them up and looked out under them. She seldom or never looked THROUGH them for so small a thing as a boy; they were her state pair, the pride of her heart, and were built for "style," not service—she could have seen through a pair of stove-lids just as well. She looked perplexed for a moment, and then said, not fiercely, but still loud enough for the furniture to hear:

What's gone with that boy,  I wonder? You TOM!

she turned just in time to seize a small boy by the slack of his roundabout and arrest his flight.

TOM! No answer. TOM! No answer. What's gone with that boy,  I wonder? You TOM! No answer. The old lady pulled her spectacles down and looked over them about the room; then she put them up and looked out under them. She seldom or never looked through them for so small a thing as a boy; they were her state pair, the pride of her heart, and were built for style, not service—she could have seen through a pair of stove-lids just as well.

THROUGH them for so small a thing as a boy; they were her state pair, the pride of her heart, and were built for style, not service—she could have seen through a pair of stove-lids just as well. She looked perplexed

In the ancient city of London, on a certain autumn day in the second quarter of the sixteenth century, a boy was born to a poor family of the name of Canty, who did not want him.

A book floated down the Amper River. A boy jumped in, caught up to it, and held it in his right hand. He grinned. He stood waist-deep in the icy, Decemberish water. "How about a kiss, Saumensch?" he said.

And the boy whose hair remained the color of lemons forever.

In the tree shadows, Liesel watched the boy. How things had changed, from fruit stealer to bread giver. His blond hair, although darkening, was like a candle. She heard his stomach growl - and he was giving people bread. Was this Germany? Was this Nazi Germany?

Maxi Taxi, you've got him now, you've got him, Jew boy, you've got him, you've got him!" A small kid with soft tufts of hair, a beaten nose, and swampy eyes, Max was a good head shorter

There is an old story about the boy at Eton who committed suicide. The other boys in his house were gathered together and asked if any of them could suggest a reason for the tragedy. After a long silence a small boy in the front put up his hand: 'Could it have been the food, sir?

My grandfather blasted in. Aw now, hell, carolyn, don't go twisting the boy back up in knots all over again now that you finally got him straightened out. They aren't leprechauns, son. they're elves. Leprechauns are those little drunk motherfuckers from Ireland.

At the end of the day, Cameron won't be a cyberkinetic superhero ready to save the world. He'll be a boy, standing in front of a girl, offering her the meager gift of his heart and hoping that it's enough.

Earth stuff, Mars boy.

He was the boy that made mix tapes with themes and hand-colored covers until the day he hit my sister and stopped crying.

It'll be your damnation, boy. You'll wear out a hundred pairs of boots on your way to hell.

Once upon a bye, before your grandfather's grandfather was born, on the edge of an unexplored wilderness called the Endless Forest, there lived a boy named Tim

When I set out from the boy's attic window, my head was so full of competing plans and complex stratagems that I didn't look where I was going and flew straight into a chimney. Something symbolic in that. It's what fake freedom does for you.