Name Jenny Quotes & Sayings

You're not supposed to go anywhere. Jenny said you're grounded for getting suspended."
I snort.
"Damn, Hope," Guy sings. "You got suspended? I think we need to drop the P in your name 'cause you is a hoe. — Cheryl McIntyre

I think the idea of opening up for a massive band is always better than actually doing it, and having your name on the ticket means more than the actual set. — Jenny Lewis

Trouble is my middle name. — Dora Sky

Your favourite virtue ... Simplicity
Your favourite virtue in man ... Strength
Your favourite virtue in woman ... Weakness
Your chief characteristic ... Singleness of purpose
Your idea of happiness ... To fight
Your idea of misery ... Submission
The vice you excuse most ... Gullibility
The vice you detest most ... Servility
Your aversion ... Martin Tupper
Favourite occupation ... Book-worming
Favourite poet ... Shakespeare, Aeschylus, Goethe
Favourite prose-writer ... Diderot
Favourite hero ... Spartacus, Kepler
Favourite heroine ... Gretchen [Heroine of Goethe's Faust]
Favourite flower ... Daphne
Favourite colour ... Red
Favourite name ... Laura, Jenny
Favourite dish ... Fish
Favourite maxim ... Nihil humani a me alienum puto [Nothing human is alien to me]
Favourite motto ... De omnibus dubitandum [Everything must be doubted]. — Karl Marx

I take a deep breath. "Okay. I can live with that. I mean, who cares about a hot makeout, right? That's just part of life, right? And you can barely even see my face? You'd have to really know me to know it was me. My full name isn't on here anywhere, just Lara Jean. There must be a ton of Lara Jeans, right? Right?" Margot — Jenny Han

I WALK IN / I SEE YOU / I WATCH YOU / I SCAN YOU / I WAIT FOR YOU / I TICKLE YOU / I TEASE YOU / I SEARCH YOU / I BREATHE YOU / I TALK / I SMILE / I TOUCH YOUR HAIR / YOU ARE THE ONE / YOU ARE THE ONE WHO DID THIS TO ME / YOU ARE MY OWN / I SHOW YOU / I FEEL YOU / I ASK YOU / I DON'T ASK / I DON'T WAIT / I WON'T ASK YOU / I CAN'T TELL YOU / I LIE / I AM CRYING HARD / THERE WAS BLOOD / NO ONE TOLD ME / NO ONE KNEW / MY MOTHER KNOWS / I FORGET YOUR NAME / I DON'T THINK / I BURY MY HEAD / I BURY YOUR HEAD / I BURY YOU / MY FEVER / MY SKIN / I CANNOT BREATHE / I CANNOT EAT / I CANNOT WALK / I AM LOSING TIME / I AM LOSING TIME / I AM LOSING GROUND / I CANNOT STAND IT / I CRY / I CRY OUT / I BITE / I BITE YOUR LIP / I BREATHE YOUR BREATH / I PULSE / I PRAY / I PRAY ALOUD / I SMELL YOU ON MY SKIN / I SAY THE WORD / I SAY YOUR NAME / I COVER YOU / I SHELTER YOU / I RUN FROM YOU / I SLEEP BESIDE YOU / I SMELL YOU ON MY CLOTHES / I KEEP YOUR CLOTHES — Jenny Holzer

Peter. Peter Kavinsky. Even saying his name is a remembered pleasure, something to savor, like a piece of chocolate dissolving on my tongue. — Jenny Han

Texas is a state that had once outlawed sodomy and fellatio, but is totally cool with men giving themselves golden showers in the name of deer hunting. — Jenny Lawson

I've considered lobbying the medical field to rename rheumatoid arthritis something sexier, younger, and more exotic. Something like "The Midnight Death," or "Impending Vampirism." Or perhaps to name it after someone famous. Like "Lou Gehrig's disease, part two: THE RECKONING. — Jenny Lawson

So what would you have asked for if you won?"
He doesn't hesitate even one beat. "Your peanut butter chocolate cake with my name written in Reese's Pieces. — Jenny Han

Jenny threw back her head and laughed, laughter that rang out through the leaves if the oak tree above them. Jack pulled her to him, to kiss her and whisper her name again. And the oak tree above them whispered back, of love and sacrifice, of a king and a queen, and a future made anew. — Ruth Frances Long

I've only ever loved two boys - both of them with the last name Fisher. Conrad was first, and I loved him in a way that you can really only do the first time around. It's the kind of love that doesn't know better and doesn't want to - it's dizzy and foolish and fierce. That kind of love is really a one-time-only thing. — Jenny Han

Call me Ishmael. I won't answer to it, because it's not my name. — Jenny Lawson

Beckett Rush spotted in London Saturday. 'Tinseltown's It Boy reportedly had three dates with three different girls at La Trattoria ... all over the course of six hours. Two ladies discovered the duplicity, and catfight broke out. Taylor Risdale broke up the fight before storming out. Beckett's camp could not be reached at the moment.'" Mr. Rush laughed. "You know what this means, right?"
"That once again my name is trashed."
"That your DVD sales will spike at least 5 percent. — Jenny B. Jones

The shops in High Street still have their metal grilles down, blank-eyed and sleeping. My name is scrawled across them all. I'm outside Ajay's newsagent's. I'm on the expensive shutters of the health food store. I'm massive on Handie's furniture shop, King's Chicken Joint and the Barbecue Cafe. I thread the pavement outside the bank and all the way to Mothercare. I've possessed the road and am a glistening circle at the roundabout. — Jenny Downham

You don't like my restaurant, Miss Connor?"
"I couldn't say since the waiting list to get in is six months long."
One side of his mouth curved up. "This is true."
His finger lingered, and I tried to swallow the nervous lump in my throat. "I think you can call me by my first name now, seeing as how you're touching my boob. That puts us a little past formality, don't you think? — Jenny Lyn

The first time I punched in my name and saw how many sites there were, I thought, that's scary. I got too involved where I got worried and panicked and tried to stop it. But you know what, if I just let it go and not worry about it, then it will be fine. Because it's all about how it makes me feel and I was letting it get to me. — Jenny McCarthy

She'd never in her whole life bunked school, smoked dope, or kissed a boy whose name she didn't know, and yet in the last few days, she'd done all these things. — Jenny Downham

A name means a lot just by itself. — Jenny Holzer

When he backed away, his pupils were huge and unfocused. He blinked, and then he cleared his throat. "Belly," he said, and his voice was foggy. He didn't say anything else, just my name.
"Do you still
" Care. Think about me. Want me.
Roughly, he said, "Yes. Yes, I still."
And then we were kissing again. — Jenny Han

When you make a solo record, it's you. It's your name. It has to be the right songs for how you feel. — Jenny Lewis

The dead raccoon's name was Rory. I fell in love with him the instant I saw him because he looked exactly like Rambo, the rescued, orphaned raccoon who lived in my bathtub when I was little. Rory hadn't been lucky enough to be adopted by a small child who'd dress him up in small shorts sets and let him turn her sink into his own tiny waterfall. Instead, Rory had fallen in with a bad crowd and ended up as roadkill, but my friend Jeremy (a burgeoning taxidermist) saw great potential (and very few tire marks) on the cadaver and decided that Rory's tiny spirit should live on in the most disturbingly joyous way possible. — Jenny Lawson

And now he's down this for me. He's made me famous. He's put my name on the world. — Jenny Downham

Do you like Cam?" the girl asked me casually. I wondered how she knew him - I thought he'd been a nobody just like me.
"I barely even know him," I told her, and her face relaxed. She was relieved. I recognized that look in her eyes - dreamy and hopeful. It must have been the way I looked when I used to talk about Conrad, used to try to think of ways to insert his name into conversation. It made me sad for her, for me. — Jenny Han

I was eight years old when I realized that my G.I. Joe and Optimus Prime were more than friends," I told her. "Theirs was a forbidden love that dared not speak its name."
"Optimus Prime is a robot," Jenny said. "Humans and robots can't be in love."
"Oh," Sandy groaned. "You shouldn't have said that."
"Blasphemy!" I hissed at her.
"It's true!" she insisted.
"I hope you never have children," I snapped. — T.J. Klune

Has she really come home? For two minutes she can feel the sand beneath her shoes along with a few pieces of flint and pebbles made of quartz or granite; then she takes off her shoes forever and goes to stand on the board to be shot.
..and finally, last of all, the name of the girl herself is taken back, the name no one will ever again call her by. — Jenny Erpenbeck

P.S. Please don't call me Isabella. That name belongs to a really pretty girl who never wrecks her clothes and who never gets dirt under her fingernails. That's definitely not me. My name is Izzy. — Jenny Lundquist

I, on the other hand, spent most of the morning coming up with good names for cats that I don't currently have. My current favorite is "The President." It's an awesome name because you'd constantly find yourself saying things like, "The President will not stop sitting on my keyboard." Or "The President just threw up on the new rug." Or "I like sleeping with the President but why do I always wake up with his butt on my face?" I — Jenny Lawson

I'm not sure if you've noticed this yet, but Jenny Sullivan likes to overuse people's first names. It's a technique she read about in a book called Own It - Take Life By The Bollocks. She once said my name so many times I disconnected from it entirely. — Claire Garber

It's been my experience that people always assume that generalized anxiety disorder is preferable to social anxiety disorder, because it sounds more vague and unthreatening, but those people are totally wrong. For me, having generalized anxiety disorder is basically like having all of the other anxiety disorders smooshed into one. Even the ones that aren't recognized by modern science. Things like birds-will-probably-smother-me-in-my-sleep anxiety disorder and I-keep-crackers-in-my-pocket-in-case-I-get-trapped-in-an-elevator anxiety disorder. Basically I'm just generally anxious about f***ing everything. In fact, I suspect that's how they came up with the name. — Jenny Lawson

And in bed, deep inside the building, are all the headaches that won't go away. The failed kidneys, the rashes, the ragged-edged moles, the lumps on the breast, the coughs that have turned nasty. In the Marie Curie Ward on the fourth floor are the kids with cancer. Their bodies secretly and slowly being consumed.
And then there's the mortuary, where the dead lie in refrigerated drawers with name tags on their feet. — Jenny Downham