Oy Quotes & Sayings

The night in question, I had put aside my perpetual lavatory read, The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, because of all the manuscripts (inedible green tomatoes) submitted to Cavendish-Redux, my new stable of champions. I suppose it was about eleven o'clock when I heard my front door being interfered with. Skinhead munchkins mug-or-treating?
Cherry knockers? The wind?
Next thing I knew, the door flew in off its ruddy hinges! I was thinking al-Queda, I was thinking ball lightning, but no. Down the hallway tramped what seemed like an entire rugby team, though the intruders numbered only three. (You'll notice, I am always attacked in threes.) "Timothy," pronounced the gargoyliest, "Cavendish, I presume. Caught with your cacks down."
"My business hours are eleven to two, gentlemen," Bogart would have said, "with a three-hour break for lunch. Kindly leave." All I could do was blurt, "Oy! My door! My ruddy door! — David Mitchell

He had great faith in Oy. Or maybe it was love. Or maybe those things were the same. — Stephen King

Oy, your karma really sucks, bubbee. You musta been Hitler in a former life or something. — Gemma Halliday

Oy runs deeper than despair. — Corrie Ten Boom

Oy, Jake," he said, shaking his head, like a benevolent rabbi I'd disappointed with my weak will. "Impatience. Seriously. I know this is hard for you ... " He glazed over. Drifted a moment. Went through something in his impenetrable interior ... "Actually I do know this is hard for you. I'm sorry. I'm not using my imagination. That was my New Year's resolution, you know. Work on standing in the other fellow's shoes. That and to read one poem every day. — Glen Duncan

OY! Stop playing around and lets cook already!"
*smack*
J-just now, that made a really loud noise.."
Do you wanna hear it again?"
N-no, you'll just hit me again!"
Kyo and Tohru — Natsuki Takaya

Oy opened his eyes - they were bright in the darkness - then winked at Jake. After that, he appeared to go back to sleep. Jake — Stephen King

Soccer Mom
English is not my first language.
For years I thought a soccer mom was a woman beaten by her husband ~
just with children.
A nice woman explained to me I was thinking about a battered wife.
I said,
'You mean he dips her in flour before he slaps her?
Then she slapped me.

Oy, English. — Beryl Dov

I didn't want to go marching down the street with camera crews. Oy. To get married? Really? It seems like you have an agenda when you do it that way. I wouldn't want to get married to be an example. — Neil Patrick Harris

Gert: Wake me when the fight scene's over.
Kitty Pryde: Oy, tell me about it. Hey, I'm Kitty. You the token pacifist of your group?
Gert: Not exactly. Pacifists are like vegans, I'm more of a vegetarian. I enjoy fish and occasional maulings. — Brian K. Vaughan

Prince,' said Puck's voice, drawing me out of my dark thoughts, back to the present. 'Prince. Oy, ice-boy! — Julie Kagawa

Oy?" he asked. "Will you say goodbye?"
Oy looked at Roland, and for a moment the gunslinger wasn't sure he understood. Then the bumbler extended his neck and caressed the boy's cheek a last time with his tongue. "I, Ake," he said: Bye, Jake or I ache, it came to the same. — Stephen King

So this is how cunts that never shag fuckin well live. A life oy impotence, resentment, anger and frustration; nae fuckin exuberance in life, forced tae become an Internet troll or a miserable drunk in a boozer. — Irvine Welsh

Oy, prince," Puck circled back, frowning. "What are you doing? If you didn't know already, the old chicken plucker is on her way, and she's gunning for Winter and Summer stew. — Julie Kagawa

Are you scared?" she purrs. "Been too long? Out of practice?" Her head cocks to the side, a bad-girl grin on her face.
And then her words register.
Too scared to shag her? I can't even dignify that with a response. I can't even sputter. And then she gives me a purple-nurple, twisting my nipple.
"Oy!" I grab her wrist, the mad little cat. I should spank her arse for that.
Suddenly my towel is gone and my body is announcing just how much I've enjoyed her naughty act, complete with the ripping-off-of-the-towel finale. — Wendy Higgins

(J)oy deserves always more. — Linda McCarriston

I'm shoutin' back more'n forty long years at myself, yay, ... Oy, list'n! Times are you're weak 'gainst the world! Times are you can't do nothin'! That ain't your fault, it's this busted world's fault is all! But no matter how loud I shout, ... he don't hear me nor never will. — David Mitchell

This is the way that it goes. In your mid forties you have your first crisis of mortality (death will not ignore me); and ten years later you have your first crisis of age (my body whispers that death is already intrigued by me). But something very interesting happens to you in between.
As the fiftieth birthday approaches, you get that sense that your life is thinning out, and will continue to thin out, until it thins out into nothing. And you sometimes say to yourself; That went a bit quick. That went a bit quick. In certain moods you may want to put it a bit more forcefully. As in: OY!! That went a BIT FUCKING QUICK!!! ... Then fifty comes and goes, and fifty-one, and fifty-two. And life thickens out again. Because there is now an enormous and unsuspected presence within your being, like an undiscovered continent. This is the past. — Martin Amis

VERY WELL, ROLAND OF GILEAD.
'VERY WELL, EDDIE OF NEW YORK.
'VERY WELL, SUSANNAH OF NEW YORK.
'VERY WELL, JAKE OF NEW YORK.
'VERY WELL, OY OF MID-WORLD. — Stephen King

Peter: Oy!
Harriet: Hullo!
Peter: I just wanted to ask whether you'd given any further thought to that suggestion about marrying me.
Harriet (sarcastically) : I suppose you were thinking how delightful it would be to go through life together like this?
Peter: Well, not quite like this. Hand in hand was more my idea.
Harriet: What is that in your hand?
Peter: A dead starfish.
Harriet: Poor fish!
Peter: No ill-feeling, I trust?
Harriet: Oh, dear no. — Dorothy L. Sayers

Oy vey, these guys is New York's spineless
Strangled and denied it for Anthony Baez — Himanshu Suri

After they left, Gabriel turned on Nathan. "So when did everyone get to kiss Sang?" Nathan's eyebrows went up. "What?" Gabriel held up his fingers, counting off. "North, Kota, Luke and Victor." Gabriel turned to me, snapping. "Oy. Get over here." He pointed to his cheek. "Where's my kiss?" I took a half step forward, but Nathan planted himself between us, his back to me. "No," he said. "You can't do that?" "Why not?" Gabriel asked. "She was going to. She's already done it to the others. — C.L.Stone

Naturally, my Jewish mother, like all Jewish mothers, wanted me to be a doctor, or a lawyer... or as she used to say, "Be something!" I wanted to be a cartoonist. Oy vey, a cartoonist was not on her list... I — Gideon Amichay

I'm pretty sure this is it for the teen movie thing. It's so frustrating to read when you get to page 20 and you're like, Oy! It's the same thing again! — Marla Sokoloff

Oy with the poodles already! — Amy Sherman-Palladino

Snarling an oath from an Icelandic saga, I reclaimed my place at the head of the queue.
"Oy!" yelled a punk rocker, with studs in his cranium. "There's a fackin' queue!"
Never apologize, advises Lloyd George. Say it again, only this time, ruder. "I know there's a 'fackin' queue'! I already queued in it once and I am not going to queue in it again just because Nina Simone over there won't sell me a ruddy ticket!"
A colored yeti in a clip-on uniform swooped. "Wassa bovver?"
"This old man here reckons his colostomy bag entitles him to jump the queue," said the skinhead, "and make racist slurs about the lady of Afro-Caribbean extraction in the advance-travel window."
I couldn't believe I was hearing this. — David Mitchell

Wisdom of the Ages: "The Nativity" The Son of God was born in a manger-not surprising, have you seen the prices of hotel rooms in Bethlehem? Oy Vay! Merry Christmas, Happy Hannukah Peace! — Matthew D. Heines

People often say to me: Oy! Get out of my garden. — Michael Redmond

I see around 100 shows a month, going from Niketown-size palaces where you feel like yelling, to storefronts in Bushwick. Each has to pay the bills; keep artists happy; and cope with collectors (oy!), curators (ay-yi-yi), critics (woo-hoo!), and occasionally plumbers. That their fiscal life often hangs in the balance only adds to the energy. — Jerry Saltz

Speak up,' says Myrna who has a fuzzy white caterpillar of a moustache. 'My hearing's not so good.'
'I WAS SHOT IN THE HEAD.'
Liz turns to Thandi. 'I thought you said you didn't remember how you got the hole in your head.'
Thandi apologizes. 'I just remembered.'
'Shot in the head!' Florence-scratchy-voice says. 'Oy, that's rough.'
'Aw, it's nothing special. Happens pretty regularly where I'm from,' Thandi says.
'WHAT?' asks Myrna with the moustache. 'Say it toward my left ear, that's the good one.'
'I SAID, "IT'S NOTHING SPECIAL,"' Thandi yells/ — Gabrielle Zevin

In England we burnt redheads at the stake, because we thought they were witches. There are still young redheads in Britain getting ripped for having red hair. 'Oy, Ginger!' — Damian Lewis