Mr D Quotes & Sayings

Come on. I know you're not a stupid man.'
'I'm quite stupid. Ask anyone.'
'Finbar, are there superheroes living among us?'
Finbar snorted with laughter and Kenny started to feel a little thick. 'Superheroes? In tights and capes, flying around? If there were superheroes, Mr. Journalist, don't you think they'd be in New York or somewhere like that? There's not that many tall buildings for Spiderman to swing from in Dublin, you know? He'd have maybe two good swings and then hang there looking disappointed.'
'These people don't wear tights and capes, Finbar.'
'So they're naked superheroes? That's grand for now, but when the good weather is over they're going to regret it.'
'They look like us. They dress like us. But they're not like us. They're different.'
'You,' Finbar said. 'Are sounding very racist right now. — Derek Landy

Mr. Bingham said, "Hey, you guys are supposedly psychic. Why didn't you see that coming and warn the girl?"
Mom sighed. "Again, we don't see the future."
"Yeah. You're a bunch of frauds."
I'd had it. My frustration boiled over. I turned to Mrs. Bingham. "Do you know a Jane Sutherland?"
Confusion swept over her delicate features. "Yes, she used to be my husband's secretary before he was laid off. What about her?"
"He wasn't laid off. He was fired. The company has rules against boinking your secretary, even though your husband apparently has no qualms with the matter."
"Clarity!" Mom screamed. — Kim Harrington

And, whoa!" He turned to Mr.D. "Your the wine dude? No way!"
Mr.D turned hi eyes away from me and gave Nico a look of loathing. "The wine dude?"
"Dionysus, right? Oh, wow! I've got your figurine!"
"My figurine."
"In my game, Mythomagic. And holofoil card, too! And even though you've only got like five hundred attack points and everybody thinks your the lamest god card, I totally think your powers are sweet!"
"Ah." Mr.D seemed truly perplexed, which probably saved my life. "Well, that's ... gratifying. — Rick Riordan

While F.D.R. once told Americans that we have nothing to fear but fear itself, Mr. Ashcroft is delighted to play the part of Fear Itself, an assignment in which he lets his imagination run riot. — Frank Rich

Ben gave an exasperated sigh. Then he strode toward her, seized her arm, and dragged her to the nearest table. "Who's coming?" she asked, too surprised by his actions to resist. "Lieutenant Wolfe and his assistant." Ben plopped onto the bench. Before she knew what was happening, he'd tugged her down, leaving her little choice but to land upon his lap. "Mr. Ross!" She gasped. "Whatever is the meaning of such familiarity?" He slid one arm around her and at the same time began unbuttoning his waistcoat. Heat crept up her neck into her cheeks. She pushed against his shoulders and attempted to rise. "Stay put." His arm around her waist pinned her, holding her prisoner. — Jody Hedlund

Apparently, I was taking U.S. History again this year, which was the only history taught at Jackson, making the name redundant. I would be spending my second consecutive year studying the "War of Northern Aggression" with Mr. Lee, no relation. But as we all knew, in spirit Mr. Lee and the famous Confederate general were one and the same. Mr. Lee was one of the few teachers who actually hated me. Last year, on a dare from Link, I had written a paper called "The War of Southern Aggression," and Mr. Lee had given me a D. Guess the teachers actually did read the papers sometimes, after all. — Kami Garcia

In another corner Nathaniel murmured to Maura, "You must know, Miss O'Connell, I ... I loved you even before I saw you. It was your father's way of talking."
Maura shook her head. "You mustn't say that. It's not my dear da's words that should do the wooing," she said gently. "I'd rather be cared for ... for what I am myself."
Nathaniel nodded. "I'll not say more. But I will tell you what I think I'm going to do."
And what is that
I'm going to California to search for gold."
And do you think, Nathaniel Brewster, you'll find it?"
I do. But it won't be as fine as what's here," Nathaniel said with a shy smile. "Maura O'Connell ... will ... will you ... wait for me to come back?"
Maura was silent.
Will you?"
You're a fine young man, Mr. Brewster. I can only say I'll not forget you. — Avi

With Mr. Montgomery, I set out to see what it would be like to write a novel in 30 days. It was hell! I'd do it again in a minute. — Nadlee Thims

Artemis must be present at the solstice," Zoe said. "She has been the most vocal on the council, arguing for taking action against Kronos's minions. If she is not there, the gods will decide nothing. We will lose another year of war preparations."
Are you sugesting the gods have trouble acting together, young lady?" Dionysis asked.
Yes, Lord Dionysis."
Mr.D nodded. "Just checking. Your right, of course. Carry on. — Rick Riordan

Fitz yawned, and she patted Mr. Snuggles on the head as she stood to leave. He mumbled something, the words too sleepy to be coherent. But Sophie could've sworn he'd said, Miss you. — Shannon Messenger

Where is your false, your treacherous, and cursed wife?"
"She's gone forrard to the Police Office," returns Mr Bucket. "You'll see her there, my dear."
"I would like to kiss her!" exclaims Mademoiselle Hortense, panting tigress-like. "You'd bite her, I suspect," says Mr Bucket.
"I would!" making her eyes very large. "I would love to tear her, limb from limb."
"Bless you, darling," says Mr Bucket, with the greatest composure; "I'm fully prepared to hear that. Your sex have such a surprising animosity against one another, when you do differ. — Charles Dickens

The older ones recently saw Mr and Mrs Smith and I think they thought that was the funniest thing they'd ever seen because, of course, watching your parents fight as spies is some strange sort of childhood fantasy. — Angelina Jolie

So, seeing as you know all the details already, can I count on you to be best man?" Cole watched fear creep over Blake's face. "The ceremony is at night," he added quickly.
"If Mr. Old Timey is still all jacked up from being a bullet catcher, we'll put it off," Kyle added.
Blake smiled and held his arms open to the female ball of fire. "I'll be fine, Kyle. I wouldn't want you to spend one extra day not married to Cole because of me."
Kyle hugged him carefully. "Your being well is one of the only things that could ever make me wait."
Blake answered Cole's question still hanging in the air. "I'd be honored to serve as your best man. — Debra Anastasia

Only one thing had her balking: his cool kiss. Especially when compared to Mr. Pinter's hot ones.
Curse that man. No matter how much she told herself his kisses hadn't meant anything, her wounded pride wanted to believe otherwise. Her wounded pride insisted they'd been too passionate to be meant only as a lesson.
Her wounded pride was a blasted nuisance. — Sabrina Jeffries

When Mr. Jackson had to leave the kids behind at the house for a business meeting, they would always come to the door as a group to see him off. They'd follow him right to the car and they'd each say, "I love you, Daddy." And he'd say, "I love you more." That was their little ritual every time he left the house. And when he got home, didn't matter if he was gone for two hours or twenty minutes, they'd run to meet him, screaming, "Daddy! Daddy! Daddy! — Bill Whitfield

There was a fire drill at school the next day. I think I'm more afraid of the fire alarm than I am of a fire. When the fire alarm goes off, you jump out of your skin. Your heart pounds and your ears buzz and your brain melts and all you want to do is get away from that horrible noise. "Get up and walk quickly out the door and to your right," said Mr. Dooley. "Do not pass go and do not collect two hundred dollars," said Donald. I held my hands over my ears to drown out the fire alarm. Outside we stood around waiting for the bell that means we could come back in again. "Yay! The roof is on fire! No more school!" someone joked. "Anybody got a match?" said someone else. Mr. Dooley said that wasn't funny. He said if there really was a fire, we'd be smart to know what to do. — Phyllis Reynolds Naylor

Once a week I would meet up with the coolest teacher and we'd go over my work. All my friends were like, Soooo ... once a week at lunch you meet up with Mr. Schulenberg to talk about poetry. They all thought I was having sex with my teacher. But I really just loved to write and it was a nice outlet. — Dave Franco

I glared at the man. "You know, Dr. Russell, most doctors would have found a more tactful way to break the news."
"I'm sorry, Mr. Perry," Dr. Russell said. "I don't want to seem unconcerned. But it's really not a problem. Even on Earth, testicular cancer is easily treatable, particularly in the early stages, which is the case here. At the very worst, you'd lose the testicle, but that's not a significant setback."
"Unless you happen to own the testicle," I growled. — John Scalzi

He folded back the hem of her housedress. Peeled the wet underpants from her skin and moved them down over her pale knees and her small feet and then dropped them on the floor. He could hear the voices of the children playing in the tree outside. He gently pushed her thighs apart and saw immediately that the baby had already begun to crown. Her skin was paler than his wife's was, even in midwinter. He gave her his hand to get her through the next contraction, keeping his arm steady as she squeezed. He spread the fingers of the other over her taut belly. Mr. Persichetti wore a silver Saint Christopher's medal around his neck and kept a Sacred Heart scapular in his pocket, but when Mary Keane asked him, catching her breath, "Who's the patron saint of women in labor?" he shrugged. He told her he only knew Saint Dymphna was the patron of the insane. He'd had the — Alice McDermott

How'd you like a temporary job in our shipping room?" Mr. Shanahan asked, his eyes suddenly watchful.

For an instant Mr. Newman succeeded in making it plain that he, like any man of his business experience, was meant for better things. A moment later, in an interesting ceremony which took place in his heart, Mr. Newman surrendered his well-loved white collar. — J. F. Powers

One aspect of Samantha's personality that drove me nuts was her tendency to reveal herself via literary allusions. She called it a quirk, but it was more of a compulsion. Her mother was Lady Macbeth; her father, Big Daddy. An uncle she liked was Mr. Micawber, a favorite governess, Jane Eyre; a doting professor, Mr. Chips.
This curious habit of hers quickly made the voyage from eccentric to bizarre when she began to invoke the names of literary characters to describe moments in our relationship. When she thought I was treating her rudely, she called me Wolf Larsen; if I was standoffish, I was Mr. Darcy; when I dressed too shabbily, I was Tom Joad.
Once, in bed, she yelled out the name Victor as she approached orgasm. I assumed she was referring to Victor Hugo because she'd been reading 'Les Miserables.'. It didn't really bother me that much though it was a little odd being with a woman who thought she was having sex with a dead French author. — John Blumenthal

What fools the public were! They were exactly like sheep ... thought Mr. Abbott sleepily ... following each other's lead, neglecting one book and buying another just because other people were buying it, although, for the life of you, you couldn't see what the one lacked and the other possessed. — D.E. Stevenson

It was painful, exceedingly painful, to know that they were under obligations to a person who could never receive a return ... "
The paper fell. It was a limited edition of Pride and Prejudice. "You, you gave me-"
"Mr. Darcy." Wes whispered in my ear. "As you can see, I also memorized some lines so that you'd swoon. — Rachel Van Dyken

On a radio drama, I'd like to feel that I had just as much chance of playing Mr. Darcy as anyone else because I can sound like him, yet many radio producers find it very difficult to extend their imaginations to employing anyone who's non-white. — Sanjeev Bhaskar

By the way, in case you weren't paying attention or something, did you catch what Mr. Powell called me? "Young artist." I bet you missed that. — Gary D. Schmidt

Mr. Morganthal shuffled out of the elevator and winked at me. "Hey, hootchie-mamma," he said. "Want a hot date?"

He was ninety-two and lived on the third floor, next to Mrs. Delgado. "You're too late," I told him. "I've already made plans."

"That's just as well. You'd probably kill me," Mr. Morganthal said. — Janet Evanovich

The past is the occupational realm of historians - their daily work - and scholars have debated what their stance toward these social issues should be. As citizens and professionals, historians may naturally form a desire, as Carl Becker puts it, "to do work in the world." That is, they might aspire to write history that is not only of scholarly value but also has a salutary impact in society. Becker defines the appropriate impact and the historian's proper role as "correcting and rationalizing for common use Mr. Everyman's mythological adaption of what actually happened."

That process is never simple, however, when the subject involves divisions so deep that they led to civil wars. One issue that inevitably leads to controversy is the extent to which history involves moral judgment. Another is the power of myths, exerting their influence on society and acting in opposition to the findings of historical research [190 - 91]. — Paul D. Escott

Imagination. As he pulled into the driveway of number four, the first thing he saw - and it didn't improve his mood - was the tabby cat he'd spotted that morning. It was now sitting on his garden wall. He was sure it was the same one; it had the same markings around its eyes. "Shoo!" said Mr. Dursley loudly. The cat didn't move. It just gave him a stern look. Was this normal cat behavior? Mr. Dursley wondered. Trying — J.K. Rowling

That's what I always wanted to know. Why would some fella be willing to do something generous for a kid he doesn't even know?" Rodney asked. "Have to say I'm surprised, Mr. Burton. Of all the people on the face of the earth," he said, his voice softening, "I figured if anyone knew the answer to that one, it'd be you. — Kenny Rogers

Mr. Evans?" I called. "A moment of your time?"
He looked at me as if he'd never seen me before. "Do I know you?"
"My name is Dina. I own the bed-and-breakfast."
He glanced past me at the old house sitting at the mouth of the subdivision. "That monstrosity?"
Aren't you sweet? "Yes. — Ilona Andrews

I never had any thought the whole week. I figured my caddie [Jerry Beard] knew the course a lot better than me, so I put out my hand and played whatever club he put in it. I'd say, "How hard do I hit it?" He'd tell me and I'd swing. The guys who come down here once a year and try to get smart with Mr. Jones' course are the dumb ones. — Fuzzy Zoeller

This was the thing that terrified me the most - more than the victim, more than the demon, more even than the dark thoughts. It was the fact that the dark thoughts were mine. That I couldn't separate myself from evil, because most of the evil in my life came from inside my own head.
How long could I live like this? I was trying to be two people - a killer on the inside, and a normal person on the outside. I made such a show of being a good, quiet kid, who never caused problem and never got into trouble, but now the monster was out, and I was actually using him - I was actively seeking out another killer. I'd given in. I was trying to be John and Mr. Monster at the same time.
Was I fooling myself, thinking that I could split my life like this? Was it possible to be two people, one good and one bad, or was I forced to be a mix of both - a good person forever tainted by evil? — Dan Wells

Consoled him with the assurance that 'he'd catch it,' condescended to help him. Mr. Sowerberry came down soon after. Shortly afterwards, Mrs. Sowerberry appeared. Oliver having 'caught it,' in fulfilment of Noah's prediction, followed that young gentleman down the stairs to breakfast. — Charles Dickens

Dear, Mr. Ajax ... don't ye know ... the fires of Hell are stoked by righteous lawyers! Tis a fact it is. All that hot air ... How'd ya think they get that Brimstone so hot?
Old Tom Goodling from Angela's Coven — Bruce Jenvey

He swallowed. "That wager. Did anyone succeed?"
She stiffened slightly, and then her shoulders lowered in defeat. Now she did turn around.
"Oh, Mr. Carhart." It was the first time she had spoken his name since he'd returned, and she imbued those few syllables with all the starch of sad formality. "As I recall, I vowed to forsake all others, keeping only unto you, for as long as we both should live."
He winced. "I wasn't questioning your honor."
"No." She put her hands on her waist and then looked up at him. "I merely wish to remind you that it was not I who forgot our wedding vows. — Courtney Milan

After ten whole minutes of painful silence, I finally raised my hand and told Mr. O'Hara I loved Miranda Blythe's romance novels, and I decided I liked him immediately when he didn't laugh or reassure me that we'd be reading real books. Like Mrs. Andrews had last year.
He did say, 'I'm afraid Ms. Blythe is not on the curriculum this semester. We'll be starting your education with the epic poets - boring, I know, but necessary building blocks. However, an extra-credit book report is always welcome, and you're free to choose whatever topic you like.'
Then Mr. O'Hara added, 'I think Ms. Blythe's works would be a particularly interesting topic for a report. In fact, if you want an example of the archetypal hero journey - '
'Wait, wait, wait.' Fred raised his hand. 'You read romance novels?'
'My dear boy,' Mr. O'Hara replied, 'I read everything. — Caitlen Rubino-Bradway

The second thing which made speechless
a state my dad would have found amusing
was the fact Mr. Hunky gave me a masculine grin
a naughty one which made me cream my panties
and said in a velvety baritone, "Run along, sweetheart. I've got this."
Me, one of Hell's most successful bounty hunters, dismissed with a smile and a wave of his hand. His treatment made me want to tear his pants off and ride him like a cowgirl
I mean, he'd called me sweetheart, how hot was that?
while at the same time making me see red. I'm gonna wipe the smirk off his face. Then I'm gonna kiss him. Then.. — Eve Langlais

Cecily turned toward the ominous snuffling noise. There, in the underbrush, lurked a boar.
She'd never seen a boar, but she knew this must be one - else it was the largest, hairiest, most foul-smelling and predatory pig she'd ever encountered.
"Denny?" she called. Then, louder: "Portia? Mr. Brooke?"
The malodorous thing shuffled closer. It was drooling. Slobbering and snorting.
The beast's rubbery lips quivered and curled, revealing a pair of sharp, menacing tusks to complement the smaller, hooked set bracketing his snout.
"Go away," she told it. "Shoo."
No response. — Tessa Dare

Husband and I are preparing ourselves for the new Doctor by watching - well, mainly rewatching - Mr. Capaldi's back catalogue, we've just finished The Crow Road in which he is utterly drop-dead gorgeous and actually I'd better stop there as husband is probably reading this so just let me point out that of course I'm only excited about upcoming Doctor Who because of the stories and it's definitely not because I fancy the new Doctor. — Jacqueline Rayner

I'd have to say that "Mr. Crowley" in my most memorable solo ... I had spent hours trying to figure out a solo for the song ... Ozzy came in and said "it's crap - everything you're playing is crap" .. he told me to get in there and just play how I felt. He made me really nervous, so I just played anything. When I came back to listen to it, he said it was great.. — Randy Rhoads

Speaking of scents, if Mr. Cologne-laced Letters really wants to stalk me, he'd be wise to follow me here, maybe offer to buy me a new release. That would get him a lot more action than his current bi-polar approach. — Angela Graham

Atticus sat looking at the floor for a long time. Finally he raised his head. "Scout," he said, "Mr. Ewell fell on his knife. Can you possibly understand?"
Atticus looked like he needed cheering up. I ran to him and hugged him and kissed him with all my might. "Yes sir, I understand," I reassured him. "Mr. Tate was right."
Atticus disengaged himself and looked at me. "What do you mean?"
"Well, it'd be sort of like shootin' a mockingbird, wouldn't it?"
Atticus put his face in my hair and rubbed it. When he got up and walked across the porch into the shadows, his youthful step had returned. Before he went inside the house, he stopped in front of Boo Radley. "Thank you for my children, Arthur." he said. — Harper Lee

I'd leave London only for Man
United, the club of my dreams. For
Mr Ferguson I'd also stay silent on
the bench. — Adel Taarabt

it is important to seek godly counsel and the peace of the Spirit. But too often we believe Mr. or Ms. Right will miraculously fill all the gaping holes in our lives. No human being is up for that task. It's a role only God can fill. And you can't manage the condition of anyone else, reforming them into exactly what you think you need. What you can do is embrace God's process of refinement and become a man or woman who selflessly lays down your life for your current or future spouse. In the process of laying down your life, you will discover more fulfillment than if you'd sought your own interests. — John Bevere

Jules could have sworn there was a devilish glint in the shopkeepers eye.
'I find today I am in need of a bonnet.'
Mr. Postlethwaite was silent. And then his eyes crept toward the marquess's hairline.
'It will be a gift for a woman, Mr. Postlethwaite.'
'Of course, sir.'
The marquess wished the 'of course' sounded a bit more sincere. He'd scarcely been in the shop for more than three minutes and already his dignity was fraying. — Julie Anne Long

The only problem with him and Henry was they were like Charlie Brown and Lucy. The only difference was once in a while Henry would hold onto the football so Eddie could kick it
not often, but once in a while. Eddie had even thought, when in one of his heroin dazes, that he ought to write Charles Schultz a letter. Dear Mr. Schultz, he would say. You're missing a bet by ALWAYS having Lucy pull the football up at the last second. She ought to hold it down there once in a while. Nothing Charlie Brown could ever predict, you understand.
Sometimes she'd maybe hold it down for him to kick three, even four times in a row, then nothing for a month, then once, and then nothing for three or four days, and then, you know, you get the idea. That would REALLY fuck the kid up, you know? — Stephen King

Mr. Dowd," Miller said. "What I am about to do to you is literally the only bright spot in my day. If you could see your way clear to resisting arrest, I'd really appreciate it." "Harry? — James S.A. Corey

And it was this location that provides my second memory. (It must come after the first because in it I am now standing up.) I was bitten by a rabbit. Or rather, I was nibbled by a rabbit, but, because I was such a weedy, namby-pamby little pansy, I reacted as though I'd lost a limb. It was the sheer unfairness of it all that so upset me. One minute, I was saying, 'Hello, Mr Bunny!' and smiling at its sweet little face and funny floppy ears. The next, the fucker savaged me. It seemed so gratuitous. What, I asked myself, had I done to the rabbit to deserve this psychotic response? — John Cleese

Lucy gripped her chilled glass of orange and raspberry juice. When Rebecca talked about Austen, she'd mostly mentioned Mr. Darcy or Mr. Knightley. She hadn't really thought of the doe-eyed, pale-skinned heroines.
On the screen, Anne Elliot walked down a long hallway, glancing just once at covered paintings, her mouth a grim line. Lucy thought Jane Austen would start the story with the romance, or the loss of it, but instead the tale seemed to begin with Anne's home, and having to make difficult decisions. Maybe this writer from over two hundred years ago knew how everything important met at the intersection of family, home, love, and loss. This was something Lucy understood with every fiber of her being. — Mary Jane Hathaway

You say you know me, Mr. Railey, but obviously, you don't. If you did, you'd know I don't spit out. — Tiffany Reisz

It's not the solution, Mr. Canton. It's the path to the solution that's fascinating. — Gary D. Schmidt

Personally," Mr. D continued, "I couldn't care less, but congratulations. Also, I should tell you that we have a new camper today. Peter Johnson." Chiron murmured something. "Er, Percy Jackson," Mr. D corrected. "That's right. Hurrah, and all that. Now run along to your silly campfire. Go on. — Rick Riordan

I just ... tell me something true about you."
"I own a pair of bell-bottoms," he confessed. "And an orange disco shirt."
"I don't believe you. You must wear it, then, next time I see you."
"I couldn't," the Gray Man said, amused. "I'd have to change my name to Mr. Orange. — Maggie Stiefvater

I had the great idea of using markers to gently color the ants so I could tell them apart, but I learned that this is exactly like somebody trying to gently color on you with a thirty-story building.
Without dwelling on the tragedy, I'd just like to say that I'm deeply sorry to Mr. Purple and the surviving Purple family. — Jim Benton

You're worth three of these other retards that I have working for me," Mr. Fletcher said. For a moment, he'd been flattered; then he realized he'd just been given the value of three retards. — T. Ellery Hodges

He'd forgotten all about the people in cloaks until he passed a group of them next to the baker's. He eyed them angrily as he passed. He didn't know why, but they made him uneasy. This bunch were whispering excitedly, too, and he couldn't see a single collecting tin. It was on his way back past them, clutching a large doughnut in a bag, that he caught a few words of what they were saying. "The Potters, that's right, that's what I heard - " " - yes, their son, Harry - " Mr. — J.K. Rowling

Nowhere. No one is ever going to hear from you again, sir. No one."
'Uh ... well ... I ... '
'You profane my world, sir! I cannot ... I will not permit you to exist ... here!"
'In that case, Doctor, why not tell me of your work? You know ... condemned man's last request.'
He walked over and put a paternal arm around my shoulders, but the grip of his hand was like steel. He was a lot stronger than he looked. Not big or beefy. But strong.
'Just a dumb reporter ... doing his job ... '
He looked closely at me, eye to eye.
'You grovel nicely, Mr ... '
'Kolchak, sir.'
'Story. You want your story, do you, Mr. Kolchak? Your precious, pitiful story? Your bloody pound of journalistic flesh?'
I smiled but it stuck halfway into a sickly grin. I was clammy. I was trembling. I could feel my wet trouser leg sticking to my flesh and was grateful I'd eaten nothing solid. — Jeff Rice

A suitably sultry voice answered his office phone. I gave my name, and she checked to see if Mr. Walsh was in. Given that Grace said he was the only lawyer at his firm, one wouldn't think she'd need to check — Kelley Armstrong

Black holes aren't an Earth Science topic, but Mr. Zerbiak is like that. One minute Adam Bell was asking a question about a meteoroid he found in his backyard, and the next Mr. Zerbiak was saying that he was "going a little off topic here, but ... " and of course everyone was suddnely all interested. If teachers pretended that everything they said was "off topic", we'd have a whole school full of straight-A students. — Carol Rifka Brunt

You? Really now, Mr. McGee. You are spectacularly huge, and a tan that deep is almost vulgar, and you have a kind of leathery fading boyish charm, but this is not and never was a game for dilettantes, for jolly boys, for the favor-for-an-old-buddy routine. No gray-eyed wonder with a big white grin can solve anything or retrieve anything by blundering around in my life. Thanks for the gesture. But this isn't television. I don't need a big brother. So why don't you just go on back to your fun and games? — John D. MacDonald

Ah, the Hand of Glory!" said Mr. Borgin, abandoning Mr. Malfoy's list and scurrying over to Draco. "Insert a candle and it gives light only to the holder! Best friend of thieves and plunderers! Your son has fine taste, sir." "I hope my son will amount to more than a thief or a plunderer, Borgin," said Mr. Malfoy coldly, and Mr. Borgin said quickly, "No offense, sir, no offense meant - " "Though if his grades don't pick up," said Mr. Malfoy, more coldly still, "that may indeed be all he is fit for - " "It's not my fault," retorted Draco. "The teachers all have favorites, that Hermione Granger - " "I would have thought you'd be ashamed that a girl of no wizard family beat you in every exam," snapped Mr. Malfoy. "Ha!" said Harry under his breath, pleased to see Draco looking both abashed and angry. — J.K. Rowling

That's the way it was, always will be. nothing we can do to make it different. It's a story now, and stories have endings even when you don't know- fools like me- that you're already in the middle of one, and you're already making choices... Choices that will bring you to places you'd never thought you'd be, places in your heart you'll mourn and love the rest of your life.~Mr. Dees — Lee Martin

You sometimes have to join forces with those you'd rather avoid. — J.K. Rowling

From Time for College - Mr. Chiardi & Other Stories

It was time for Junior to go to college. He'd sprouted pubic hair and was eyeing all the girls.
"I want to go to college," he said.
"Yes," I replied, "It's time."
His mother, my wife, was resigned to the fact that it was time for Junior to leave the nest. She sat on a stool at the granite kitchen counter, spiked coffee beside her, reading The New York Times. She looked almost real. — Rita Buckley Aka Charles Maxwell

I looked over at the others. "Anyone have tree-climbing issues?"
Obviously Ash and I didn't. Daniel, Hayley, and Corey said they'd be fine. Chloe hoped she would - she had gymnastics training. Mr. Bae joked that it would be his first time in a couple of decades. Derek said nothing.
"Derek?"
"It looks like I'll be the guy doing the distracting. I'm not trusting a tree branch to hold me."
"You're not playing decoy," Chloe said. She turned to us. "I'm sorry. I know that sounds like a cop-out, but he really can't. The last time we were in a fight against the St. Clouds, the orders were to tranq all of us except Derek. For him, it was shoot to kill. They don't trust werewolves."
"I think they've calmed down," Derek said. "They've been watching us for months and haven't tried to assassinate me yet."
Chloe put her hands on her hips. "And that's your definition of acceptance? Not going out of their way to kill you?" — Kelley Armstrong

Yeah? What'd you name all those cats?" Death, Famine, Pestilence, War, and Mr. Whiskers." You named your cats after the riders of the apocal
wait. Mr. Whiskers?" Well, there are only four horsemen. — Richelle Mead

I'm thoroughly addicted to you, Becca. If I don't get a regular fix of your body, I might go into withdrawal."
"That's a very serious condition. Maybe we should wean you off that addiction."
"Oh, no. I'm happily addicted. I don't have many vices, you know. I don't really drink, don't smoke, I'm not into partying or anything like that. But you? I'm very much into you. I wouldn't give you up for anything."
"Well, in that case, we'd better make sure you get your fix, Mr. Dorsey. I wouldn't want you to go into withdrawal."
"No, we wouldn't want that. it'd be bad."
"What are the symptoms of withdrawal, just so I know what to look for?"
"Well, I tend to get cranky, that's the firs thing. I get really horny, and it's hard for me to concentrate."
"I see. And what's the best method of giving you a fix?"
"I'm not particular."
"So if you touched me, right here in this parking lot, that would help you? — Jasinda Wilder

Frank will be okay, Alice," Mr. Vargas said. "He's an odd duck, but brilliant children often are. I make myself out to be," he said. "I'm worried, yes. But I'd worry more if she didn't have Frank. She's all he got, and she knows it. — Julia Claiborne Johnson

So Mr. Pizarsky had been a poet? That was how he'd said it: "I was a poet." As if the poet had died. He was hiding, perhaps. — Helen Oyeyemi

But it is infamous that they have not told you!' declared Eustacie. 'Je n'en reviendrai jamais!'
'If it's all the same to you, miss, I'd just as soon you'd talk in a Christian language,' said Mr. Stubbs. — Georgette Heyer

What are we watching?" [ ... ]
[ ... ] He hugged her closer. "The sacrifices I make for you -just watch."
She was intrigued enough to pay attention to the screen. "Pride and Prejudice," she read out. "It's a book written by a human. Nineteenth century?"
"Uh-huh."
"The hero is ... Mr. Darcy?"
"Yes. According to Ti, he's the embodiment of male perfection." Dev ripped open a bag of chips he'd grabbed and put it in Katya's hands. "I don't know -the guy wears tights. — Nalini Singh

I got a lot of Ph.D.-types and smart people around me who come into the Oval Office and say, 'Mr. President, here's what's on my mind.' And I listen carefully to their advice. But having gathered the device, I decide, you know, I say, 'This is what we're going to do.' — George W. Bush

Mr. Ballard, there's nothing in the world I wouldn't do to have my husband proved innocent. I know he's innocent. He begged me to ask you to help him. He said you were the toughest man he'd ever met, and that you tried to be honest with him, and that if you ever made up your mind to do something, nothing in the world could ever stop you." I — Harry Whittington

I have just realized that it is due to you, and to Mr. James Thomas and his staff of the Army Navy Country Club that the putting green here on the White House lawn is already in such excellent condition. I assure you that I get a great deal of pleasure and relaxation out of using the green in an occasional late afternoon hour ... — Dwight D. Eisenhower

The poem 'What Teachers Make' is not without its detractors. This one person wrote to me and said: 'Gee, Mr. Mali. You don't possibly have a teacher-God complex, do you?' And that was the first time I'd ever heard of that expression. So, yeah, I'm sure I have a teacher-God complex. — Taylor Mali

We can accommodate Mr. Delgado as well. (LaCrosse)
'He'd agreed with polite grace, but he wasn't particularly happy. Someone had him by the short hairs and was braiding them.' (Carlos) — Sherrilyn Kenyon

Big D. November '63. He was there that Big Weekend. He caught the Big Moment and took this Big Ride.
He was a sergeant on Vegas PD. He was married. He had a chemistry degree. His father was a big Mormon fat cat. Wayne Senior was jungled up all over the nut Right. He did Klan ops for Mr. Hoover and Dwight Holly. He pushed high-line hate tracts. He rode the far-Right zeitgeist and stayed in the know. He knew about the JFK hit. It was multi-faction: Cuban exiles, rogue CIA, mob. Senior bought Junior a ticket to ride.
Extradition job with one caveat: kill the extraditee. — James Ellroy

Dilly clapped her hands as she bounced on her feet, her excitement bubbling over even more. "They come ta help you, Mr. T. See? I tole ya there'd be someone. There's always someone that comes when you need them. Always, always, always. — Jackie Castle

Mollie blushed as Mr. Walters released his hold on Jacob in order to embrace her in an enthusiastic hug. Jacob frowned at the sight of another man's arms around his woman, but it was only right that she receive credit for the part she'd played. His woman. Had he really just labeled her as such? It seemed odd yet so very, very right. What also felt very, very right was getting Trent Walters's arms away from Mollie. — Karen Witemeyer

The game played a song and Mr. D progressed to level 254. Ha! — Rick Riordan

I would not have said anything about Mr. Trump, never - I would never have said anything if he didn't call himself a Christian. It'd be none of my business whatsoever to make any comments about his language, his vulgarities, his slander of people, but I was deeply troubled ... that here's a man who holds up a Bible one day, and calls a lady "bimbo" the next. — Max Lucado

TO MR. CYRIACK SKINNER UPON HIS BLINDNESS
Cyriack, this three years day these eys, though clear
To outward view, of blemish or of spot;
Bereft of light thir seeing have forgot,
Nor to thir idle orbs doth sight appear
Of Sun or Moon or Starre throughout the year,
Or man or woman. Yet I argue not
Against heavns hand or will, nor bate a jot
Of heart or hope; but still bear vp and steer
Right onward. What supports me, dost thou ask?
The conscience, Friend, to have lost them overply'd
In libertyes defence, my noble task,
Of which all Europe talks from side to side.
This thought might lead me through the world's vain mask
Content though blind, had I no better guide. — John Milton

For in this sickened world, it is better to believe in something too fiercely than to believe in nothing.' Words, words, wonderful words. But lies too. 'No, it isn't!' shouted Mosca the Housefly, Quillam Mye's daughter. 'Not if what you're believin' isn't blinkin' well True! You shouldn't just go believin' things for no reason, pertickly if you got a sword in your hand! Sacred just means something you're not meant to think about properly, an' you should never stop thinking! Show me something I can kick, and hit with rocks, and set fire to, and leave out in the rain, and think about, and if it's still standing after all that then maybe, just maybe, I'll start to believe in it, but not till then. An' if all we're left with is muck and wickedness and no gods, then we'd better face it and get used to it because it's better than a lie. Which is what you are, Mr Kohlrabi.' Mosca — Frances Hardinge

Spring had come finally and after much hesitation, to Lincoln's Inn Fields and there were daffodils out upon the green grass and gilly-flowers blooming in the window-boxes of the ground floor sets. This being Lincoln's Inn, where an air of general severity prevails, they did so with an unconscionable meekness, as if they feared that some legal eminence- Mr Crabbe perhaps- would descend in wrath from his chambers and present them with a writ for unlicensed blossoming or occupying too great a proportion of space. — D.J. Taylor

And he'd do nothing for ten minutes but look at the lock, and then he'd select a piece of bent metal from a ring of several hundred almost identical pieces, and under an hour later he'd be walking away with a neat ten percent of the takings. Of course, you didn't have to use Mr. Brown's services. You could always opt to spend the rest of your life looking at a locked door — Terry Pratchett

It stretched off into dim infinity, dotted with floating globes of silvery light. Mr. Grey had been told that the globes were swampfire, encased in a timeloop charm so they were inextinguishable. He'd never even heard of swampfire, much — G. Norman Lippert

I didn't think he'd go back for him. But it shouldn't surprise me, either, I guess ... given their relationship. I'm extremely curious where they're hiding him, as he doesn't blend. At all. Ever. I can't imagine where they could put him that he wouldn't attract a lot of attention ... in either form." Xev
"Well, aren't we Mr. Dark and Cryptic ... shall we call him?" Nick pulls out his phone.
"I doubt he knows how to work that. I'm sure he'd sniff it and eat it if you gave him one. Do you know where they're keeping him?" Xev
"You know how akri-Caleb's house is up off the ground and gots all that room under it for storage?" Simi
"Oh dear Gods, he's in my wine cellar? Seriously? I'm thinking I should have made amends with my brother sooner and moved him into my house to watch the puca. What kind of mutant life form do I have living in my cellar? And do I need to fumigate my house?"" Caleb — Sherrilyn Kenyon

TV was on Mr. Jobs's to-do list. "I'd like to create an integrated television set that is completely easy to use," he told his biographer, Walter Isaacson. "I finally cracked it." But then he died, — Anonymous

I could only imagine the prenup I'd have to sign: In the event of a divorce, Mrs. Scaife- Elwood will receive eleventy- bajillion dollars and Mr. Elwood will continue to blame himself for the dissolution of the marriage and the ruining of Mrs. Scaife- Elwood's life, in perpetuity, even though it's probably not his fault. — Abigail Barnette

All I could determine was that it must have been a nice thing to see if it was a house you were thinking about moving into. But not so nice if it was the house you were moving out from. I could practically hear Mr Collins, who had taught my fifth-grade English class and was still the most intimidating teacher I'd ever had, yelling at me. "Amy Curry," I could still hear him intoning, "never end a sentence with a preposition!" Irked that after six hears he was still mentally correcting me, I told the Mr. Collins in my head to off fuck. — Morgan Matson

I think that 'Mr. Show' was a huge influence on me. It was literally the reason I started doing comedy, because I was asked to do a bit at The Comedy Store, and B.J. Porter and I went to see Bob and David - who I'd never heard of - do a live show, which was one of the shows that got them the 'Mr. Show' show. — Scott Aukerman

So, Mr. Mandrake, what is it you plan to do with me this evening?" I asked haughtily.
"I presume," he said, playing along, "that I will start with feeding you proper and then proceed with more ... pestiferous acts."
I smiled through the confusion. I'd have to look up that word later. — Brandi Salazar

Mr. Finch, if you was a nigger like me, you'd be scared, too. — Harper Lee

Twenty minutes later, just as Stella thought she was going to collapse with worry and anticipation, her father, the pastor, and Mr. Spencer emerged from the polling station, smiles lighting their faces. And now she saw what she'd expected to see earlier in Mr. Spencer's eyes. They were on fire. — Sharon M. Draper

I should say she didn't," said Mr. Macey, significantly. "Before I said "sniff", I took care to know as she'd say "snaff", and pretty quick too. I wasn't a-going to open my mouth, like a dog at a fly, and snap it to again, wi' nothing to swaller. — George Eliot

I'd draw a picture of an army of teddy bears charging out to fight these green, gloppy looking blobs. My teddy bears would be riding white horses and carrying long lances like knights of the Round Table. She started giggling at the thought of Mr. Ruggers leading a brigade of pandas, potbellies, and fuzzy-wuzzies in her defense. — Lurlene McDaniel

But these vague whisperings may arise from Mr. Snagsby's being, in his way, rather a meditative and poetical man; loving to walk in Staple Inn in the summer time; and to observe how countrified the sparrows and the leaves are ... and to remark (if in good spirits) that there were old times once, and that you'd find a stone coffin or two, now, under that chapel, he'd be bound, if you was to dig for it. — Charles Dickens

The art teacher's scarlet book was called Story of the Eye by Georges Bataille. 'As the title suggests,' Mr Dunwoody saw the book'd caught my attention, 'it's about the history of opticians. What are you about? — David Mitchell

Mr. Monogamy doesn't find my shenanigans funny? Oh thank god, if you did I'd have to chuck it all and join a monastery. — Kim Cormack

His lady scowls and asks, "Are you a man? If you can't stand the smell, get out of the can. I'd whack him myself, but he looks like my dad, And killing him thus would be Freudian mad. — Mr. Z