Buzzes N Quotes & Sayings

He scoffs. "I fucking bought this house. You did nothing but sign a piece of paper."

My teeth grind, and I point at my chest. "I did nothing? Really? Nothing? I didn't give birth to two of your children? I didn't sacrifice my career? I didn't keep your house while you were running off behind my back fucking that fake-breasted skeleton?"

I see red and my body is on fire. Everything burns. My eyes. My chest. My lips. I can't even feel my face. Every cell in body buzzes. I've never felt more alive. If this is what Saige was talking about when she said anger is healthy, then I'll have to let her know, once again, that she was right because this feels fan-fucking-tastic. — Winter Renshaw

My phone buzzes. It's from Karou: a list of conversation openers that I won't be needing. - a) Hi. I'm Zuzana. I'm actually a marionette brought to life by the Blue Fairy, and the only way I can gain a soul is if a human falls in love with me. Help a puppet out? - b) Hi. I'm Zuzana. The touch of my lips imparts immortality. Just sayin'. - c) Hi. I'm Zuzana. I think I might like you. — Laini Taylor

For some actors, their star shines brightly and fizzles out. My star doesn't shine that brightly, but it buzzes along. Hopefully, that means it will last longer. — Anna Maxwell Martin

My phone buzzes in my shirt pocket, and Frank takes a step back to let me answer it. I've got another text from Jem.
What does the breast part look like? I think I've got it upside-down.
"The fuck?" Frank says.
"He's talking about the turkey."
"Oh. Jesus. I mean ... good."
"Jem knows what human breasts look like."
Frank shudders. "I can't deal with this," he mutters and stalks away. — Abria Mattina

My head buzzes with
nervousness, but the rest of me seems to know exactly what it's doing, because it all pulses to the same rhythm, all wants the same
thing: to escape itself and become a part of him instead. — Veronica Roth

I look at the names on the mailboxes and the bells inside number 1940 and pick out a couple of women's names and press the first one. I stand there waiting, feeling the image
build up and not thinking about what I'm going to say to her because I know
something will come to me like it always does. Nothing happens. I press the second doorbell and in a few minutes she buzzes the door, twice, and I walk into the hallway. The stairs are curved around an elevator and to the right and I go up them, not in a hurry or nothing, just taking them one at a time.
Its funny, isn't it, how the first woman didn't answer the bell or wasn't home or something and just that little chance, you understand what I mean? — Sebastian Junger

The intercom buzzes while you're changing your shirt. You push the Talk button: "Who is it?" "Narcotics squad. We're soliciting donations for children all over the world who have no drugs. — Jay McInerney

If love means thinking about someone all the time and feeling special whenever you're with them, if it means little buzzes of electricity making you shiver when you kiss, if it meant listening to every word they say with hyper-awareness so you can replay the whole conversation when you're on your own, then I was in love. If love means caring about someone so much that it makes you want to cry when they're not smiling, feeling sick with excitement in the morning becauses because you're going to see them at college, feeling like half a person when you're not together, then I was completely and absolutely and utterly in love with Theo. — Keren David

Critics are like horse-flies which hinder the horses in their plowing of the soil. The horse works, all its muscles drawn tight like the strings on a double-bass, and a fly settles on his flanks and tickles and buzzes. And what does the fly buzz about? It scarcely knows itself; simply because it is restless and wants to proclaim: 'Look, I too am living on the earth. See, I can buzz, too, buzz about anything.' — Anton Chekhov

When I gave up dope and alcohol, my immediate feeling was 'I've saved my life, but there'll be a price because I'll have nothing that buzzes me any more'. But I enjoyed my kids. My wife loved me and I loved her. And eventually the writing came back and I discovered that the writing was enough. Stupid thing is that probably it always had been. — Stephen King

India buzzes for its players and that makes you feel special. — Kevin Pietersen

Janie's hip buzzes again. Maybe
she'll have to have her whole leg amputated, she thinks sadly. That
would really suck. — Lisa McMann

The ripe, the golden month has come again, and in Virginia the chinkapins are falling. Frost sharps the middle music of the seasons, and all things living on the earth turn home again ... the fields are cut, the granaries are full, the bins are loaded to the brim with fatness, and from the cider-press the rich brown oozings of the York Imperials run. The bee bores to the belly of the grape, the fly gets old and fat and blue, he buzzes loud, crawls slow, creeps heavily to death on sill and ceiling, the sun goes down in blood and pollen across the bronzed and mown fields of the old October. — Thomas Wolfe

Some people you don't give up on. Not because you can tell what they'll be or what will happen. Not because of that. It's because something inside you insists that you shouldn't
something knows more or knows better, stubbornly holds its ground, even while the the rest of the world and a million statistics and your own rational brain buzzes around you, chanting that you're a fool. And maybe they're right. Maybe you ARE a fool. But what if you're not? Can you give up without knowing if that voice was right all along? Where's the peace in that? — Jennifer DeLucy

Then my cell phone buzzes again. I can't quite get it out of my pocket because my arm is so bloody. Astley reaches down and pulls it out for me.
"You're blushing," he says.
"You just reached in my pocket. It's kind of intimate."
He smiles a wicked smile and hands me the phone. "There is candy in here as well."
"Skittles," I explain. "I like them. — Carrie Jones

Solitude is the surest nurse of all prurient passions, and a girl in the hurry of preparation, or tumult of gaiety, has neither inclination nor leisure to let tender expressions soften or sink into her heart. The ball, the show, are not the dangerous places: no, 'tis the private friend, the kind consoler, the companion of the easy vacant hour, whose compliance with her opinions can flatter her vanity, and whose conversation can sooth, without ever stretching her mind, that is the lover to be feared: he who buzzes in her ear at court, or at the opera, must be contented to buzz in vain. — Samuel Johnson

When the power falls on me, it buzzes in the warm, dark spaces of my skull. It stings like nettles at the tips of my fingers. The power is a fever I have felt since early childhood, a heat in the blood that leaves me flushed and unsteady, dreaming in daylight. — Victoria Lamb

Man, that kind of little honeybee just buzzes from flower to flower."
"Maybe, but honey is sweet, you know? — Colleen Coover

That's when this warm feeling buzzes through you and you smile to yourself, knowing God's watching you, knowing that He knows you're trying to be strong to please Him. — Randa Abdel-Fattah

I don't think so," the Mayor buzzes -
And my feet stop running -
But then I pick up one -
And then the other -
And I'm running for it again -
I hear the Mayor laugh behind me. "Well done," he says. — Patrick Ness

My phone buzzes again.
Crush: You're single. I'm single. Let's mingle. — Jillian Dodd

Biological diversity is messy. It walks, it crawls, it swims, it swoops, it buzzes. But extinction is silent, and it has no voice other than our own. — Paul Hawken

Karma Police

Karma police
arrest this man,
he talks in maths,
he buzzes like a fridge,
he's like a detuned radio.

Karma police
arrest this girl,
her Hitler hairdo
is making me feel ill
and we have crashed her party.

This is what you get,
this is what you get,
this is what you get,
when you mess with us.

Karma police
I've given all I can,
it's not enough,
I've given all I can
but we're still on the payroll.

This is what you get,
this is what you get,
this is what you get,
when you mess with us.

For a minute there
I lost myself, I lost myself.
Phew, for a minute there,
I lost myself, I lost myself.

For a minute there
I lost myself, I lost myself.
Phew, for a minute there,
I lost myself, I lost myself. — Radiohead

I know exactly how that is. To love somebody who doesn't deserve it. Because they are all you have. Because any attention is better than no attention. For exactly the same reason, it is sometimes satisfying to cut yourself and bleed. On those gray days where eight in the morning looks no different from noon and nothing has happened and nothing is going to happen and you are washing a glass in the sink and it breaks-accidentally-and punctures your skin. And then there is this shocking red, the brightest thing in the day, so vibrant it buzzes, this blood of yours. That is okay sometimes because at least you know you're alive. — Augusten Burroughs

My phone buzzes and I fish it from my pocket, expecting Tacey or maybe my parents checking in to make sure I'm okay. But it's an unfamiliar number.
Do you blame yourself?
I read the words once. Twice. I see Stella's locker door swinging open and I hear a train whistle, but neither are happening. It's all in my head. I force myself to take a breath and head outside. This text is a wrong number. It's not for me, and it's definitely not about Stella.
And then another message.
Do you wish you'd done something? What if you still could?
I text back quickly.
I think you have the wrong number.
I don't have the wrong number, Piper. — Natalie D. Richards

A strange night, he thought. Somewhere now there is shooting and men are being hunted and imprisoned and tortured and murdered, some corner of a peaceful world is being trampled upon, and one knows it, helplessly, and life buzzes on in the bright bistros of the city, no one cares, and people go calmly to sleep, and I am sitting here with a woman between pale chrysanthemums and a bottle of calvados, and the shadow of love rises, trembling, lonesome, strange and sad, it too an exile from the safe gardens of the past, shy and wild and quick as if it had no right — Erich Maria Remarque

The caterpillars are coming. They're coming. As they passed a blunt rolled with marijuana shake around the bonfire, filled plastic cups with beer from a keg in the back of John Anderson's Bronco, snuck cigarettes at the red doors that led to the make-out woods behind school. As they waited on line at the cafeteria for pizza and Tater Tots, warmed up during choral practice, and changed for gym in the locker room. Until Maddie felt something titanic rushing toward the island, gathering steam like a nor'easter barreling toward shore, and the waiting filled with a tingling urgency she knew they all felt. She felt it. Car engines revved harder, highs soared higher, buzzes and crushes burned brighter. "Look." She lifted her palm as the insect inched across. The two lines of blue and red dots on its back glimmered like spots of blood rising after a pinprick. "They're here. — Julia Fierro

My shift isn't over until six," I say glumly.
"Hold on," he says. He pulls a Blackberry from his coat pocket and taps out a text. It buzzes, and he taps out another text before stashing it back in his pocket. "I think you can take the rest of the afternoon off."
"I only have a week left, but my boss would kill me," I say.
"I'm your boss, Anna."
"What do you mean?"
There's that smile again, the one with all those teeth. "I just bought Walmart," he says. — Andrew Shaffer

Suspicions that the mind, of itself, gathers, are but buzzes; but suspicions that are artificially nourished and put into men's heads by the tales and whisperings of others, have stings. — Francis Bacon

There is a definite romance that buzzes and ticks and takes you by the elbow when Christmastime arrives in the city. It's something about the lights. The way the wreaths dress up the streetlamps. How everyone seems to commute home at night with much more purpose, and I often found myself wondering what they were barreling back for. If it was a tree that needed to be decorated, or cookies needing to be frosted, or just someone worth holding all winter long. — Hannah Brencher