Quotes About Playground

I must apologise because I know all writers have memories of being on the outer because it's the children on the side of the playground who become the dangerous writers.

If Aphrodite chills at home in Cyprus for most of the year, then Fez must be the goddess's playground

IN THE SECOND GRADE, WHEN YOU ARE A BOY WHO LIKES A GIRL, YOU GIVE HER YOUR BEST POKEMON CARD. OR YOU PULL HER HAIR. NOT HARD ENOUGH TO MAKE HER CRY, THOUGH. OR YOU CAN ASK TO HER ROLLERSKATE BACKWARDS WITH YOU, AND THEN HOLD HER HAND SO SHE DOESN'T FALL DOWN.

Clothes do not interest her. They hang on her body as if they are there only because there is no place else for them to go, like men on street corners, like children on the school playground on weekends.

The playground song in my head went, First comes love, then comes hideous betrayal, then comes endless regret requiring expensive therapy. It was a terrible song. It didn't even rhyme. But it was mine, and I hadn't made a family, even though I'd wanted one

During a recess game of Four Squares—the dumbest game since Tetherball—Lance's pants had split. What made it worse, what made it one of those wholly horrifying childhood incidents, was that Lance had not worn underwear that day.

They had this angry look about them, as if they had been falling off swings all day.

Back in 2004, Vince McMahon basically told me to consider WWE to be my playground, and that I could come and play any time I wanted to.

What I do remember about first grade and that year was that it was very lonely. I didn't have any friends, and I wasn't allowed to go to the cafeteria or play on the playground. What bothered me most was the loneliness in school every day.

Acting is playing - it's actually going out on a playground with the other kids and being in the game, and I need that. Writing satisfies that part of myself that longs to sit in my room and dream.

I grew up on 'S.N.L.,' doing all the sketches on the playground.

I remember, my first time in the studio, I was with my dad, Dark Skies. I was, like, 4 years old. It changed my life. I was like, 'I've found my playground.'

Yard Apes! yelled Ramona, her name for the sort of boys who always got the best balls, who were always first on the playground, and who chased their soccer balls through other people's hopscotch games.

a fad started by Yard Ape, who sometimes brought his lunch.

If Luna Marie is at the park, my child is not happy unless she's on the highest bar of the jungle gym or the tallest branch of a tree or jumping over the biggest, deepest hole.

There's a large oak tree in the Newton Centre park playground that is legendary because only a few humans have hit it with a baseball from home plate, and B.J. Novak is among them. And I was there that day.

Look at a football field. It looks like a big movie screen. This is theatre. Football combines the strategy of chess. It's part ballet. It's part battleground, part playground. We clarify, amplify and glorify the game with our footage, the narration and that music, and in the end create an inspirational piece of footage.

My whole life, I heard, 'Jingle bells, Batman smells, Robin laid an egg.' It's all I heard throughout elementary school.

Youth is terrible: it is a stage trod by children in buskins and a variety of costumes mouthing speeches they've memorized and fanatically believe but only half understand. And history is terrible because it so often ends up a playground for the immature; a playground for the young Nero, a playground for the young Bonaparte, a playground for the easily roused mobs of children whose simulated passions and simplistic poses suddenly metamorphose into a catastrophically real reality.

A guilty conscience is jealousy's playground.

The universe is a playground of improvisation—it follows no external pattern. —COGITOR RETICULUS, Observations from a Height of a Thousand Years

The girls in kindergarten would chase us boys around trying to kiss us. I'm proud to say I was the first to stop running.

Boys? Megan's mind was flooded with images of boys. Boys with missing teeth, their faces smeared with red Popsicle goo, their beady little eyes laughing at her as they lured her behind their house to see their new "puppy" and then lassoed her to a tree and hung her upside down. Greasy-haired, chubby-legged, evil little boys. Boys with worms in their pockets who ate gum off the ground and pulled her hair.

At playtime she twirled and spun across the playground so fast that none of the little boys in her class could catch her and they were all very cross.