Quotes About Girl

Unfortunately, my army consists of one unreliable criminal, one girl with a disability, and one incredibly foolish young vampire with a tanning issue. I am not confident.

Michael had to pound me a couple of times to convince me not to go stage a rescue. Shane shrugged. He hits like a girl, for a vampire.

You are the weirdest girl ever." "Please. You live with Eve.

Talk. I'll just wait' shall I? Because my mission to save this town is of no importance whatsoever next to your girl talk.- Myrnin Oh, shut up, you medieval drama queen - Claire

Says the girl dressed up in formal Goth mourning, Shane said. Seriously, who buys a black lace veil? You keep that on hand for special occasions, like prom and kid's birthdays?

Damn, girl. You space so hard, you ought to look into a career at NASA.

Myrnin: There is no drama so great as that of a teenage girl. Claire: Except yours.

She doesn't usually back down that easily." "Maybe she's got class." Eve snorted. "Trust me," she said. "That girl's got no class at all.

You're always caring about strays and outcasts among us, myself included. You really are a very odd girl, you know; so little sense of what is good for you.

You look fabulous, he told her, and kissed her. Oh, crap, now I've got glitter, right? Leatherface does not do glitter. It's not manly. Claire and I both rolled our eyes, right on cue. Right. Small price to pay for the privilege of kissing such a beautiful girl, what was I thinking? Sorry.

Because I'm a girl, Claire thought. She was barely able to contain the relief welling up inside her. Because we're all stupid and insecure and think that we're never, ever good enough.

The handwriting was a girl's. I mean, you can tell. That enchanted cursive.

A bum slumped in a corner seat called out, Give the girl a dance already, ya bum!

I already know the words. I just need to learn the beat. This tone-deaf white girl will try to make music out of recovery.

She went to take the notebook, but Boris beat her to it. "Bad girl!" she chided. "I'm pretty sure Boris is a boy," I said. "Oh, I know," Mrs. Basil E. assured me. "I just like to keep him confused.

There are certain things a girl just knows, like that a fourth minute on a punk song is a bad, bad idea

I am the Velma. I am the girl with the bowl haircut and the sensible sweater—the investigator, not the cause of investigation.

The singing wasn't the hopscotch-jumprope-happy kind. This was the kind of singing that, if you tracked it to its source, you might find a little girl in a moldy old burial dress, her skin pitted & green, with lots of coffin splinters & dirt between her teeth... ...like a mermaid luring idiot sailors...Winny wasn't a sailor, & he wasn't old enough to get all sexed up by some hot siren.

I'm not much for parties. Sometimes you have to wear a funny hat, sometimes they expect you to eat sushi, which is like eating bait. And there's always some totally drunk girl who thinks you're smitten by her, when what you're really wondering is if she'll vomit on your shirt or instead on your shoes.

Libby is just a girl, but it was a girl of her age who raised the siege of Orléans in 1428 and broke the English army, and no one can say what a girl might have the capacity to endure or achieve.

Get real, my friend. If this is a crime scene and if the girl is attractive, her looks could have something to do with why she was murdered. A former husband. A jealous boyfriend.

The little girl's voice was thin with pain. "They were so pretty," she said. And then she died.

I will not dream anymore, you said. I will not set myself up for the pain. But then your team made the playoffs, or you saw a movie, or a billboard glowing dusky orange and advertising Aruba, or a girl who bore more than a passing resemblance to a woman you'd dated in high school—a woman you'd loved and lost—danced above you with shimmering eyes, and you said, fuck it, let's dream just one more time.

I will not dream anymore, you said. I will not set myself up for the pain. But then your team made the playoffs, or you saw a movie, or a billboard glowing dusky orange and advertising Aruba, or a girl who bore more than a passing resemblance to a woman you'd dated in high school— a woman you'd loved and lost— danced above you with shimmering eyes, and you said, fuck it, let's dream just one more time.