Quotes & Sayings About Mister Right

All right mister, let me tell you that winning means you're willing to go longer, work harder, give more than anyone else. — Vince Lombardi

You're the right colour for the Angel of Death, Mister Cale. But a little short.' 'I could cut your head off and stand on it. Then I'd be taller. — Paul Hoffman

The gravel road widened into a large turnaround where three similar looking and designed brothels sat waiting for customers. They were called Sheila's Front Porch, Tawny's High Five Ranch and Miss Delilah's House of Holies.
"Nice," Rachel said as we surveyed the scene. "why are these places always named after women
as if women actually own them?"
"You got me. I guess Mister Dave's House of Holies wouldn't go over so well with the guys."
Rachel smiled.
"You're right. I guess it's a shrewd move. Name a place of female degradation and slavery after a female and it doesn't sound so bad, does it? It's packaging. — Michael Connelly

He thought here you are Joe Bonham lying like a side of beef all the rest of your life and for what? Somebody tapped you on the shoulder and said come along son we're going to war. So you went. But why? In any other deal even like buying a car or running an errand you had the right to say what's there in it for me? Otherwise you'd be buying bad cars for too much money or running errands for fools and starving to death. It was a kind of duty you owed yourself that when anybody said come on son do this or do that you should stand up and say look mister why should I do this for who am I doing it and what am I going to get out of it in the end? But when a guy comes along and says here come with me and risk your life and maybe die or be crippled why then you've got no rights. You haven't even the right to say yes or no or I'll think it over. There are plenty of laws to protect guys' money even in war time but there's nothing on the books says a man's life's his own. Of — Dalton Trumbo

I tell you, mister, if there's anything good about being a hot-tempered bitch, it's knowing right well what buttons to push in others seeing as they're the same ones what get your own back up. — J.D. Jordan

Right, enough talk. I think it's time Mister Vassikin was introduced to my friend, Mister Fist. — Eoin Colfer

All right, so you're an orc,' said Trev. 'So they used to eat people. Have you eaten anyone lately?' 'No, Mister Trev.' 'Well, there you are, then. — Terry Pratchett

The Tuatha De do not speak of Tuatha De matter to"
he gave her an icy sneer
"mere mortals."
"Well, mister-mere-mortal-yourself," she bristled right back at him, "maybe you'd better get used to it, because whether or not you like it, you need at least one of us 'mere mortals' to help you become a pompous-asshole-fairy-thing again."
He tried to maintain his icy stare, but his lips curved despite his efforts and he shook with silent laughter. A pompous-asshole-fairy-thing. The indignity of it. Had any of his race ever been called such a thing? Nothing cowed the woman. Nothing. "Point made, ky-lyrra," he said dryly.
-Gabrielle and Adam — Karen Marie Moning

IT (The country) IS HEADED TOWARD OVERSIMPLIFICATION. YOU WANT TO SEE A PRESIDENT OF THE FUTURE? TURN ON ANY TELEVISION ON ANY SUNDAY MORNING - FIND ONE OF THOSE HOLY ROLLERS: THAT'S HIM, THAT'S THE NEW MISTER PRESIDENT! AND DO YOU WANT TO SEE THE FUTURE OF ALL THOSE KIDS WHO ARE GOING TO FALL IN THE CRACKS OF THIS GREAT, BIG, SLOPPY SOCIETY OF OURS? I JUST MET HIM; HE'S A TALL, SKINNY, FIFTEEN-YEAR-OLD BOY NAMED "DICK." HE'S PRETTY SCARY. WHAT'S WRONG WITH HIM IS NOT UNLIKE WHAT'S WRONG WITH THE TV EVANGELIST - OUR FUTURE PRESIDENT. WHAT'S WRONG WITH BOTH OF THEM IS THAT THEY'RE SO SURE THEY'RE RIGHT! THAT'S PRETTY SCARY - THE FUTURE, I THINK, IS PRETTY SCARY. — John Irving

Each tim I think I am falling for Mister Right, and then what happens? BAM! The guy turns out to be a fraud, a swindling scoundrel, or a dishonest, disparaging jerk! — Kym Petrie

All right," said Kaz. "Let's talk in the solarium. I'd prefer not to sweat through my suit." When the rest of them made to follow, Kaz halted and glanced over his shoulder. "Just me and the privateer."
Zoya tossed her glorious black mane and said, "We are the Triumvirate. We do not take orders from Kerch street rats with dubious haircuts."
"I can phrase it as a question if it will make your feathers lie flat," Kaz said.
"You insolent - "
"Zoya," said Sturmhond smoothly. "Let's not antagonize our new friends before they've even had a chance to cheat us. Lead on, Mister Brekker. — Leigh Bardugo

Constable Shoe,' said Constable Shoe, when the door of the bootmaker's factory was opened. 'Homicide.'
'You come 'bout Mister Sonky?' said the troll who'd opened the door. Warm damp air blew out into the street, smelling of incontinent cats and sulphur.
'I meant I'm a zombie,' said Reg Shoe. 'I find that telling people right away saves embarrassing misunderstandings later on. But coincidentally, yes, we've come about the alleged deceased. — Terry Pratchett

Hey mister, where you goin' in such a hurry? Don't you think it's time you realize There's a whole lot more to life than work and worry All the sweetest things in life are free And they're right before your eyes? You've got to stop and smell the roses You've got to count your many blessings every day You're gonna find your way to heaven is a rough and rocky road If you don't stop and smell the roses along the way — Mac Davis

You believe in heaven, Mister Stoner?'
'More than I believe in here, aye.'
She smoothed a corner of the folded blanket. 'Out here in the quiet heaven seems near, nearer than the inn where it's all bustle and noise.'
'You can hear the Almighty speak in the silences, you mean. See His hand most clear. I believe so too, but you got to want to see Him. hear Him.' He looked toward the hatchet throwers. 'Not turn a blind eye and ride right over what He's put in your path, nor try to outrun Him. Mebbe it's up to you and me to slow some folks down so they get quiet enough to hear Him. — Laura Frantz

Gus, do I have to put you in a cage or something? Because I will! Don't push it, mister!"
"As an officer of the court, I feel obliged to speak up and tell you that child imprisonment is against the law," I said.
"Right. Well, then, I'll take that as your offer to babysit all four of my precious angels when you get home."
"Then again, cages can be very comfortable. — Kristan Higgins

How do you get your information, Mister Brekker?"
"You might say I'm a lockpick."
"You must be a very gifted one."
"I am indeed." Kaz leaned back slightly. "You see, every man is a safe, a vault of secrets and longings. Now, there are those who take the brute's way, but I prefer a gentler approach - the right pressure applied at the right moment, in the right place. It's a delicate thing."
"Do you always speak in metaphors, Mister Brekker?"
Kaz smiled. "It's not a metaphor."
He was out of his chair before his chains hit the ground. — Leigh Bardugo

I won't tell them about it," said Abra. "You're pretty sure of yourself." "Yes," she said, "I'm pretty sure of myself. Will you kiss me?" "Right here? Right in the street?" "Why not?" "Everybody'd see." "I want them to," said Abra. Aron said, "No. I don't like to make things public like that." She stepped around in front of him and stopped him. "You look here, mister. You kiss me now." "Why?" She said slowly, "So everybody will know that I'm Mrs. Lettuce-head. — John Steinbeck

Because right now, he is staring at me with these blue eyes. Not the usual blue. Not like my Mister-Know-It-All-blue. My mister has turquoise-blue eyes. This guy has a more sophisticated version of turquoise. His eyes are teal. Teal signifies trustworthiness and reliability. It promotes spiritual advancement and commitment. — Ritika Chhabra

If you think you can just scare the crap out of me and walk home like nothing happened you are very wrong, mister." Cassie's voice, although steady, was now seething with anger. "What the hell happened out there, Trevor!?"

Trevor checked his surroundings, crawled closer to the gate, and popped his head around the corner of the wall to check the house. Again, loud growls echoed in his ears and the gate shook under weight of a body butting up against it. The dogs were right in his face doing what they were trained to do - guard the property.

"Dogs, Cassie...big dogs happened. — Cecilia Aubrey

It's so hot, Mister Dunn's rooster walks in my door and squats his red self right in front of my kitchen fan. I come in to find him looking at me like 'I ain't moving nowhere, lady — Kathryn Stockett

Among those dazzled by the Administration team was Vice-President Lyndon Johnson. After attending his first Cabinet meeting he went back to his mentor Sam Rayburn and told him with great enthusiasm how extraordinary they were, each brighter than the next, and that the smartest of them all was that fellow with the Stacomb on his hair from the Ford Motor Company, McNamara. "Well, Lyndon," Mister Sam answered, "you may be right and they may be every bit as intelligent as you say, but I'd feel a whole lot better about them if just one of them had run for sheriff once." It is my favorite story in the book, for it underlines the weakness of the Kennedy team, the difference between intelligence and wisdom, between the abstract quickness and verbal fluency which the team exuded, and the true wisdom, which is the product of hard-won, often bitter experience. Wisdom for a few of them came after Vietnam. — David Halberstam

I look over at Ed. He's staring out the window giving Leo the thumbs-down. I wait till he's looking at me, then I give him two fingers up. He gives me two fingers back. I give him the middle finger. He gives it back to me. I don't know any more signs, so I make up one. Three fingers. Take that, mister. He sticks up four. I call your four and raise you five. He skips straight to ten and does something with his thumb that disturbs me. I bounce my hands on my lap. Ed bounces his lap right back. — Cath Crowley

You from?" the driver asked with a complete lack of interest. "Liverpool." "Limey, huh? Well, you'll be all right. It's the goddamn New York Jews cause all the trouble." I found myself with a British inflection and by no means one of Liverpool. "Jews - what? How do they cause trouble?" "Why, hell, mister. We know how to take care of this. Everybody's happy and getting along fine. Why, I like niggers. And them goddamn New York Jews come in and stir the niggers up. They just stay in New York there wouldn't be no trouble. Ought to take them out. — John Steinbeck

This is CID homicide, mister, and neither heat nor rain nor gloom of night will stay these men from their rendezvous with callousness. Cruel jokes? The cruelest. Sick humor? The sickest. And, you ask, how can they possibly do it? Volume. That's right, volume. They won't be outsold, they won't be undersold; they will solve no crime before its time. — David Simon