Super Nice Life Quotes & Sayings

My first on-screen kiss was lame: Nickelodeon. But my first real-life kiss was super cute and nice, but still very awkward. It was with this hot skateboarder with dreadlocks. He was my little Rasta man. — Christian Serratos

Must be nice," I said, caressing the stick as if it might be my buddy and help me win.
"Money makes life all kinds of nice. Oh, and the way you're fondling the stick is making me super horny here. I also suspect you're doing that on purpose. Now, who's cheating?"
Glancing back at him, I grinned. "You're in a constant state of heat. I'm not taking the blame for that."
Throwing his head back, Cooper laughed. "Fair enough. — Bijou Hunter

This [oatmeal] represents your soul in its pure state. Your soul on the day you were born. You were perfect. You were happy. You were good.
Now, enter Concept Number Two: crap. Don't worry, folks. I don't use actual crap up here. Only imaginary crap. You'll have to supply the crap, using your mind. Now, if someone came up and crapped in your nice warm oatmeal, what would you say? Would you say: 'Wow, super, thanks, please continue crapping in my oatmeal'? Am I being silly? I'm being a little silly. But guess what, in real life people come up and crap in your oatmeal all the time
friends, co-workers, loved ones, even you kids, especially your kids!
and that's exactly what you do. You say, 'Thanks so much!' You say, 'Crap away!' You say, and here the metaphor breaks down a bit, 'Is there some way I can help you crap in my oatmeal? — George Saunders

I like the idea of becoming [fairly] good at lots of things rather than very good at just one thing. So it would be nice to be okay at the guitar or at the piano, a reasonable cook, perhaps able to fix your car or do some basic carpentry, and be able to write the odd article. Rather than being super good at one tiny thing, to be kind of average at lots of things. It might mean that you have a more kind of enjoyable, complete life. — Tom Hodgkinson

Then her imagination ran away with her. In Beckit's head, her super-hot former stalker was just about to kiss all of her sorrows away.
In real life, he was simply removing a small glop of toothpaste that had ended up on the outside of Beckit's mouth.
Nice. Wonderful. Faaantastic.
Beckit cringed inside as her embarrassment was rivaled only by her newfound hatred for wandering fluoride. — M.A. Wilder