Picked A Bad Quotes & Sayings

This is ridiculous, she thought. I'm possessed of terrifying powers. Why am I relying on a ridiculous little gun that I picked because I thought it was cute? I don't need this thing. She threw it contemptuously over her shoulder. Damn right! I took out a house of weird fungal cultists that had devoured three teams of supernatural SWAT teams. I am a badass. She paused and expanded her senses outward, searching for any kind of life. Okay, nothing. At least, she thought uneasily, nothing that I can detect. But then why does it smell so bad down here? There's something foul wandering the underground tunnels beneath my — Daniel O'Malley

I stand up for other people, I'm very protective of people around me. If I feel like somebody is getting a bad rap or being unfairly picked on, I will stand up for them, absolutely. — Christina Ricci

I picked you. And then you picked me back. And that's like a promise.
At least for tonight. In sickness and in health. In good times and in bad. For richer, for poorer, 'Til dawn do us part. — John Green

How plants grow: Quickly. Most plants grow fast and die young. People get seventy years, a bean plant gets four months, maybe five. Once the itty-bitty baby plant peeks out of the ground, it sprouts leaves, so it can absorb more sun. Then it sleeps, eats, and sunbathes until it's ready to flower - a teenage plant. This is a bad time to be a rose or a zinnia or a marigold, because people attack with scissors and cut off what's pretty. But plants are cool. If the rose is picked, the plant grows another one. It needs to bloom to produce more seeds. — Laurie Halse Anderson

[Ted] Cruz railed against his fellow senators for not appreciating the risk that Obamacare would destroy healthcare for America's families ... Cruz then lodged a more general complaint against his Senate colleagues who, he said, seemed more concerned with "cocktail parties in Washington, D.C." than with their constituents. Referring to calls that he said were pouring in from around the country, begging legislators to resist and defund, Cruz noted, "It is apparently an imposition on some members of this body for their constituents to pick up the phone and ask for assistance." As I heard him say that, I picked up the phone and called Cruz's local constituent service office in Houston. "Could someone there give me information about how to enroll in Obamacare?" I asked, when I was put on the phone with one of the senator's case workers. "No. We don't support the bill, and think it's a bad idea," I was told. — Steven Brill

I was gratified by the way our players had approached each game throughout the season. They had remained focused on the task at hand, playing hard and smart week after week. We didn't have any turmoil or distractions. We went about our business as usual. To do that in a setting that often was anything but usual is a testament to the character of our players and coaches. Our process worked; we simply picked a bad year to only be very good. — Tony Dungy

When you want genuine music
music that will come right home to you like a bad quarter, suffuse your system like strychnine whisky, go right through you like Brandreth's pills, ramify your whole constitution like the measles, and break out on your hide like the pin-feather pimples on a picked goose,
when you want all this, just smash your piano, and invoke the glory-beaming banjo! — Mark Twain

The truth is, Rosemary, that you are capable of anything. Good or bad. You always have been, and you always will be. Given the right push, you, too, could do horrible things. That darkness exists within all of us. You think every soldier who picked up a cutter gun was a bad person? No. She was just doing what the soldier next to her was doing, who was doing what the soldier next to her was doing, and so on and so on. And I bet most of them - not all, but most - who made it through the war spent a long time after trying to understand what they'd done. Wondering how they ever could have done it in the first place. Wondering when killing became so comfortable. — Becky Chambers

I was one of those kids that was always picked on but, one thing I gotta say it that no matter how bad your life gets, there's always a bright light out there and you gotta find it. — Nonito Donaire

Even as radio waves are picked up wherever a set is tuned in to their wavelength, so the thoughts which each of us think each moment of the day go forth into the world to influence for good or bad each other human mind. — Christmas Humphreys

You picked the seats you did for a reason, right? Familiarity. Too bad the best sleuths avoid familiarity. It dulls the investigative instinct. — Becca Fitzpatrick

She grinned at her husband. He was wearing a blue towelling bathrobe that was too small for him, and it showed his long, muscular legs. 'You're not so bad yourself,' she said, and she picked up the phone. It was her mother. 'Happy Christmas,' she said. — Ken Follett

I tucked the keys into my pocket so they wouldn't jingle and rushed back outside. Once out, I picked up my pace to a run. I was not a runner. I did not like to run. But I ran like I meant it.

Maybe I should've joined the cross-country team after all because I wasn't half bad at this. For about one stretch of sidewalk. By the time I made it to the Science building, I had cursed not only the entire cross-country team, but the sport as a whole. I had a cramp that was sending a painful jolt up my side and I could barely breathe. — Kasie West

Unix is not so much a product as it is a painstakingly compiled oral history of the hacker subculture. It is our Gilgamesh epic: a living body of narrative that many people know by heart, and tell over and over again - making their own personal embellishments whenever it strikes their fancy. The bad embellishments are shouted down, the good ones picked up by others, polished, improved, and, over time, incorporated into the story. [ ... ] Thus Unix has slowly accreted around a simple kernel and acquired a kind of complexity and asymmetry about it that is organic, like the roots of a tree, or the branchings of a coronary artery. Understanding it is more like anatomy than physics. — Neal Stephenson

Small chains wound their way through the trigger guards with little bronze locks at the end of each row. It was like a chain gang for weapons. Some of them might be good, some of them might be bad, but there was no way to tell until somebody picked them up. — Craig Johnson

This lesson is, I suppose, a major reason I wrote this book: because along the way I've picked up the wisdom that bad things happen, and yet the sun still comes up the next day, and it's up to you to carry on living your life and keeping your setbacks in perspective. You also have to understand that on some level, these horrible and sad things happen to everyone; the mark of a man is not just how he survives it all but also what wisdom he's gained from the experience. — Martin Short

I see a girl caught in the remains of a holiday gone bad, with her flesh picked off day after day as the carcass dries out. The knife and fork are abviously middle-class sensibilities. The palm tree is a nice touch. A broken dream,perhaps? Plastic honeymoon, deserted island? Oh, If you put in a slice of pumpkin pie, it could be a desserted island! (Pg 64) — Laurie Halse Anderson

Life is like a roller coaster. I like the ups and downs. Life is like a roller coaster with many ups and down. The faster the better. I picked a bad day to stop sniffing glue. — Lloyd Bridges

As the mother of a small boy, she had developed a bad habit of carrying a little of everything in her purse, not to mention all the little treasures that Jeremy had given her - pretty rocks, a wilted violet, a ring he'd made from braided pine needles. The collection was a junky-looking mess. When the stranger picked up an unwrapped peppermint candy with more hair on it than stripes, Chloe wished the floor planks would separate and swallow her. His hard mouth twitched as he dropped the candy back in her purse along with an emergency tampon whose wrapper had nearly disintegrated. — Catherine Anderson

But love isn't rational. it's a fucking mess, that's what love is. You can't control the way you feel. Love was a different entity altogether. It picked and chose what it wanted. It disregarded logic. Hell, it shat on logic and then it buried away the pain and embraced the heart with feelings so euphoric you'd forget all the bad just to feel it, even for a minute. — R.J. Lewis

Will picked a single blossom from a gorse bush beside him; it shone bright yellow on his grubby hand. "People are very complicated," he said sadly.
"So they are," John Rowlands said. His voice deepened a little, louder and clearer than it had been. "But when the battles between you and your adversaries are done, Will Stanton, in the end the fate of all the world will depend on just those people, and on how many of them are good or bad, stupid or wise. And indeed it is all so complicated that I would not dare foretell what they will do with their world. Our world. — Susan Cooper

The important thing to know is that life will always deal us a few bad cards, but we have to play those cards the best we can. And we can play to win. This was one lesson I picked up when I was a teenager. It has been my guiding principle ever since. When I wanted something, the best person to depend on was myself. — John Gokongwei

Louie's mother, Louise, took a different tack. Louie was a copy of herself, right down to the vivid blue eyes. When pushed, she shoved; sold a bad cut of meat, she'd march down to the butcher, frying pan in hand. Loving mischief, she spread icing over a cardboard box and presented it as a birthday cake to a neighbor, who promptly got the knife stuck. When Pete told her he'd drink his castor oil if she gave him an empty candy box. "You only asked for the box, honey," she said with a smile. "That's all I got." And she understood Louie's restiveness. One Halloween, she dressed as a boy and raced around town trick-or-treating with Louie and Pete. A gang of kids, thinking she was one of the local toughs, tackled her and tried to steal her pants. Little Louise Zamperini, mother of four, was deep in the melee when the cops picked her up for brawling. — Laura Hillenbrand

I just picked up a camera without any kind of ambition to be good or bad. And especially without any ambition to make a living ... My whole freedom working in photography comes because I say to myself, Let's see what is going on in this world. Let's find out. How do these people look? — Lisette Model

You may remember the story of how the devil and a friend of his were walking down the street, when they saw ahead of them a man stoop down and pick up something from the ground, look at it, and put it away in his pocket. The friend said to the devil, "What did that man pick up?" "He picked up a piece of the truth," said the devil. "That is a very bad business for you, then," said his friend. "Oh, not at all," the devil replied, "I am going to help him organize it." — Jiddu Krishnamurti

Back in New York, my dad refused to admit that he had a wife, much less a daughter on the way. This fantasy came to an end when he picked up his mail to find a postcard from a grinning woman, with a swelling belly, firing off automatic weapons with a group of equally happy Uzbek men. The caption read, 'Enjoying the afternoon with your daughter!'

On July 19, exactly four weeks before I was born, my father opened the door to find a woman wearing a burka, the traditional dress of Iran. When my mother finally went into labor at St. Luke's-Roosevelt Hospital, my dad was finally forced to venture outside his circle of comfort. Having done so - and meeting me - he realized it wasn't so bad out there. — Nicolaia Rips

Gen. What are you - " Curtis stopped when his voice came out sounding like Clint Eastwood. He coughed, trying to clear his throat. Genesis smiled back at him and picked up a cup of water from his hospital tray. He was so gentle when lifting Curtis' head, he had to remembering to stop swooning like a fangirl and swallow. Genesis delicately rested his head back on the pillow. "If you're trying to ask, what I'm doing here, we have a date remember?" Genesis said in the sexiest voice Curtis had ever heard. Damn. How many voices does this man have? "Our date isn't until Friday," Curtis croaked. "It is Friday," Genesis said with a serious expression. Curtis bolted upright. "What?" he yelled, wincing at the pain that stupid move caused. Genesis put his hand on his chest, gently pushing him back down, trying to contain his deep laughter. "Sorry. Bad joke to play on a concussion patient." Curtis rolled his eyes. "You're an ass, Gen." Genesis — A.E. Via

Lucille certainly picked a fine time to leave us, didn't he? I just wish our only problem was four hungry children and a crop in the field. (Danger)

You know, your sarcasm isn't helping anymore than your bizarre and scattered references to literature and bad country songs. (Alexion)

Not true, it's helping me maintain a calm facade that I most definitely do not feel. (Danger)

Well, it's starting to piss me off. (Alexion)

Ooo, you almost scare me when you say that. — Sherrilyn Kenyon

Nothing is as bad as it seems,' I thought with the last remnants of my dense optimism. It couldn't be. I'd already lost everything once, I'd been ten, and so had countless other people I knew, and they all picked up and kept going. Or they picked up and went in a slightly different direction. — Lyndsay Faye

GOVERNOR. And then I must call your attention to the history teacher. He has a lot of learning in his head and a store of facts. That's evident. But he lectures with such ardor that he quite forgets himself. Once I listened to him. As long as he was talking about the Assyrians and Babylonians, it was not so bad. But when he reached Alexander of Macedon, I can't describe what came over him. Upon my word, I thought a fire had broken out. He jumped down from the platform, picked up a chair and dashed it to the floor. Alexander of Macedon was a hero, it is true. But that's no reason for breaking chairs. The state must bear the cost. — Nikolai Gogol

Claire started to unbutton her blouse and looked over her shoulder at Sam, who tried to discreetly sneak a peek at her. She reached down to the bed and picked up the nightshirt the hotel staff provided, per Lacy's request, an extra-large white cotton T-shirt sporting the hotel's name and logo in classy gray lettering.
They also provided a pair of gray cotton boxers for Sam. He picked them up. "Not bad. They really thought of everything, huh?"
"Yes, it was very thoughtful of Lacy. We won't have to sleep in our clothes," Claire agreed on her way to the bathroom to change.
"Or in the buff, which wouldn't be such a bad thing," Sam said in a low voice.
"I heard that, Sam," Claire yelled from the bathroom.
"Wouldn't be such a bad thing." Sam called back.
"That remains to be seen." She giggled.
"Yeah, well you can't blame a guy for trying. — Carolyn Gibbs

It's not a bad idea to call this Cthulhuism & Yog-Sothothery of mine "The Mythology of Hastur" although it was really from Machen & Dunsany & others, rather than through the Bierce - Chambers line, that I picked up my gradually developing hash of theogony or daimonogony. Come to think of it, I guess I sling this stuff more as Chambers does than as Machen & Dunsany do though I had written a good deal of it before I ever suspected that Chambers ever wrote a weird story! — H.P. Lovecraft

This is bad," was all I could manage to say.
"Yeah, I kind of picked up on that too."
"No,I mean really bad. Like, to a level I didn't know badness could reach."
Archer crouched down near the lip of the crater, the flickering blue light playing in his eyes. "It gets worse."
"What,does this put also eat kittens? How much worse can it be? — Rachel Hawkins

If a leg goes bad, you cut it off." She made a firm gesture with the flat of her hand, then picked up her slice of pudding and began to eat it with her fingers. "And some folk need killing. That's all there is to it. — Patrick Rothfuss

Bloody North," said Shev as she picked her way towards it and had a tentative drag at the ropes. "Even their bridges are shit."
"Their men are good," said Javre, clattering out with no fear whatsoever. "Far from subtle, but enthusiastic."
"Great," said Shev as she edged after, exchanging a mutually suspicious glance with a crow perched atop one of the posts. "Men. The one thing that interests me not at all."
"You should try them."
"I did. Once. Bloody useless. Like trying to have a conversation with someone who doesn't even speak your language, let alone understand the topic."
"Some are certainly more horizontally fluent than others."
"No. Just no. The hairiness, and the lumpiness, and the great big fumbling fingers and ... balls. I mean, balls. What's that about? That is one singularly unattractive piece of anatomy. That is just ... that is bad design, is what that is. — Joe Abercrombie

Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John are a bunch of practical jokers who meet somewhere and decide to have a contest. They invent a character, agree on a few basic facts, and then each one's free to take it and run with it. At the end, they'll see who's done the best job. The four stories are picked up by some friends who act as critics: Matthew is fairly realistic, but insists on that Messiah business too much: Mark isn't bad, just a little sloppy: Luke is elegant, no denying that; and John takes the philosophy a little too far. Actually, though, the books have an appeal, they circulate, and when the four realize what's happening, it's too late, Paul has already met Jesus on the road to Damascus, Pliny begins his investigation ordered by the worried emperor, and a legion of apocryphal writers pretends also to know plenty ... It all goes to Peter's head; he takes himself seriously. John threatens to tell the truth, Peter and Paul have him chained up on the island of Patmos. — Umberto Eco

Since the last tour I have done a lot of extensive travel to Iraq, Kuwait, Siberia, South Korea and other places and picked up some hopefully interesting stories. We are living in interesting times and as bad as things are, I draw considerable inspiration from some of the things I'm seeing and people I'm meeting. I'm looking forward to getting out on the road and talking about it all. — Henry Rollins

In our patakis, our folk myths, we believe that we come to the world with a destiny we picked for ourselves in Arun. Obatala creates the human body, but you have to get your head from the potter who molds them out of clay in his warehouse. On a good day he makes beautiful heads, but sometimes he gets drunk and makes a bad head. It's a divine defect. There's no way to tell from the outside, but once you've chosen your head, you have to live your destiny. — Lauren Beukes

If you can find a group of women, any age, who are supportive and kind and love you, that's the best. I have a group of girlfriends that I would lay in front of a bus for. They've picked me up through really, really bad times and I can definitely say I've done the same for them. — Katie Lowes

Have I come at a bad time?" she managed to say without guffawing. I believe I said something on the order of "argh," and compounded my embarrassment by trying to cover myself with the sweatpants I'd picked up off the floor. — Jeffrey Cohen

Six bad hombres have tried to kill Ramos. Ramos went to all six funerals, just in case any of the bereaved wanted to take a shot at revenge. None of them did. He calls his Uzi "Mi Esposa" - my wife. He's thirty-two years old. Within hours he has in custody the three policemen who picked up Ernie Hidalgo. One of them is the chief of the Jalisco State Police. Ramos tells Art, "We can do this the fast way or the slow way." Ramos takes two cigars from his shirt pocket, offers one to Art and shrugs when he refuses it. He takes a long time to light the cigar, rolling it so that the tip lights evenly, then takes a long pull and raises his black eyebrows at Art. The theologians are right, Art thinks - we become what we hate. Then he says, "The fast way." Ramos says. "Come back in a little while." "No," Art says. "I'll do my part." "That's a man's answer," Ramos says. "But I don't want a witness. — Don Winslow

My parents had a certain resolve to them that I don't see as so prevalent today. Through good times and bad, they were committed to one another. Their relationship wasn't something to be constantly examined or picked apart. — Steve Carell

The Jeep was parked at the beginning of the causeway when Denny got off the bus. She ignored it and started toward the island.
"Denise . . ."
Denny ignored Mr. Jones's call and kept on walking.
She heard the engine start, and soon the Jeep was rolling along beside her.
"Picked up your mail," said Mr. Jones. He handed some envelopes out the window. Denny grabbed them without a word.
"There's a letter there from some old coot named Jones," Mr. Jones said. "Looks like an apology."
Denny looked down and ruffled through the envelopes. "There is not," she said.
"No?" said Mr. Jones sheepishly. "Well, there should be. Guess he didn't get around to writing it. He feels real bad though. I know that for a fact."
Denny stopped and put her hand on her hip and stared at Mr. Jones. — Jackie French Koller

It sometimes seems to me like we're not supposed to notice that Shug's colored, or that saying anything about it would be bad manners. That puzzles me because Shug's being colored strikes me as real obvious. And usually anybody's difference gets pounced on and picked at. This silence is a lie peculiar to a man's skin color, which makes it extra serious and extra puzzling. Daddy — Mary Karr

Hallo, Bertie."
"Hallo, old turnip. Where have you been all this while?"
"Oh, here and there! Ripping weather we're having, Bertie."
"Not bad."
"I see the Bank Rate is down again."
"No, really?"
"Disturbing news from Lower Silesia, what?"
"Oh, dashed!"
He pottered about the room for a bit, babbling at intervals. The boy seemed cuckoo.
"Oh, I say, Bertie!" he said suddenly, dropping a vase which he had picked off the mantelpiece and was fiddling with. "I know what it was I wanted to tell you. I'm married. — P.G. Wodehouse

A smile spread over Dr. Blockhead's face. 'But where are my manners?' he said. 'What a bad host I am. Let me offer you a little refreshment.'
He picked up a jar, opened it, and held it out to Scully.
'Is that what I think it is?' she asked.
'The finest assortment of living crickets money can buy,' said Dr. Blockhead. 'And all quite recently captured. If you don't believe me, read the expiration date on the label.'
'I believe you,' said Scully, still peering at the contents.
She reached in and picked out her cricket. Then she put it in her mouth and crunched down.
She smiled at Dr. Blockhead. 'Thank you so much for the treat,' she said.
Then she gave him a dazzling smile and walked away.
'That Scully,' said Mulder, shaking his head. 'She's just full of surprises. — Les Martin

You know how I know I'm brilliant? I picked a man willing to suffer to protect me. I picked a man willing to go without so I can be safe. Too bad that man's too stupid to realize the only way I'll ever be safe is with him. My heart can't belong to anyone else. You've claimed it, and you have no right to close the door on me now. — Bijou Hunter

Yeah, I picked up a book and I read. You can get something out of a book, even a bad book ... but a cunt, it's just sheer loss of time ... — Henry Miller

I picked up a lot of my arguing-with-Mom techniques from Mimsy. She always says if you state the facts, Mom won't argue with you. And it's true. I used this approach once when I was little, after I got home from a visit with Mimsy. I wanted to eat a chocolate bar for a snack but mom wanted me to have an apple. I refused, saying I have never had a bad candy bar but have had plenty of bad apples. Mom relented and let me have my chocolate. But not before saying, "All right. No bad apples for the bad apple." It was still worth it. — Courtney Turk

But my best friend from college was silent for a long time. She, of all of my friends, had seen the parade of sad wrecks through my life, date after bad date after bad boyfriend. She was the one who'd picked up the pieces after the musician, the investment banker, the humanitarian who was human to everyone but me.
When at last she spoke, she said, Oh, hell.
And, after that: Hallelujah. — Lauren Groff