Was Ms Quotes & Sayings

What is the answer, Evan? Ms Granger asked.
Giraffe, I wanted to answer. It was on the tip of my tongue. Giraffe.
This was in math class, — David Levithan

What about the FDA? Please, are you serious? Back then the FDA was one of the most underfunded, mismanaged organizations in the country. I think they were still high-fiving over getting Red No. 218 out of M&Ms. — Max Brooks

The amused heat in Lucien eyes scorched her. In that moment she wasn't ordinary Sophie Black, builder's PA and invisible wife. She was sexy and sophisticated Ms. Black, able to stop Viking sex-gods in their tracks with just a few little words. She noticed the way Lucien's throat worked as he swallowed before he spoke.
You start in the morning. Nine o' clock sharp. Don't be late, Ms. Black. — Kitty French

I want you to know that I remember the conversations we had in Year Twelve, when you told me you wanted to do a cultural studies degree because you believed in trade, not aid, and you believed that the only way was to ask the questions and listen to the needs of the people and I remember thinking that exact moment, I want to change the world with her. And I remember feeling that again in Georgie's attic. That's a pretty powerful gift you have there, Ms. Finke. To make the laziest guy around want to change the world with you. So next time you remember standing in your bedroom naked, know that it is the most amazing view from any angle, especially the one where we get to see inside.
Love always,
Always,
Tom — Melina Marchetta

When grown-ups asked you to sit in a circle, they were usually about to tell you something you didn't want to hear. Ms. Aruba-Tate, Ivy and Bean's second-grade teacher, was forever gathering them in a circle for bad news. Like, the class fish died over the weekend. Or, everyone has to start using real punctuation. Or, the pencil sharpener is off-limits. Circles meant trouble. — Annie Barrows

It's a surreal experience. During the first show, I was like, "Wow, I'm onstage with Ms. Tyson!" Everybody has been amazing, and the energy is really beautiful. I'm replacing my friend Condola, so everyone making sure that I'm OK has turned what could've been a very scary, nerve-racking and lonely experience into a supportive environment. — Adepero Oduye

Happiness, you make them" was her reply. My right words at the right time, I told Ms. Thomas during the interview, now several years after Grandma's death. "With her accent and broken English she misspoke, making happiness plural," I explained to Ms. Thomas. "And I like that, because it is good to be reminded that happiness is not just one thing and is always of your making. — Bridget Kinsella

Have you been drinking, Ms. Brycin?" "Does a bottle of tequila laced with heroin count? I also had some battery fluid ... was that not a good thing? — Stacey Marie Brown

I checked my e-mail first. The only new one was from Lady Elaine. I opened it with a surge of trepidation that proved anticlimactic. The e-mail informed me that Paul would be starting classes tomorrow (read: today) and that I should be prepared. Yeah, way to get the message through on time there, Ms. I Can Predict the Future. It also included his new class schedule so that I could stalk him more conveniently.

Even better — Mindee Arnett

My mom was a housewife, and wasn't somebody that people would think of as a feminist, and when Ms. Magazine came out we were incredibly inspired by it. I used to cut pictures out of it and make posters that said, "Girls can do anything", and stuff like that, and my mom was inspired to work at a basement of a church doing anti-domestic violence work. Then she took me to the Soidarity Day thing, and it was the first time I had ever been in a big crowd of women yelling, and it really made me want to do it forever. — Kathleen Hanna

The reason why Indian bowling has done exceptionally well in this World Cup is MS Dhoni. When we wrote them off, he kept supporting them. When they were struggling, only he was standing by his bowlers. — V. V. S. Laxman

wasn't Lily; it was Craig Simmons, the landscaper. Holding a sweat-stained baseball cap in his hand, the fortyish-something sandy-haired man stood on the front porch, still wearing his work boots, faded jeans and stained T-shirt. "Hello, Ms. Boatman, I just got back from lunch, noticed your car in the back drive and wondered if you had a chance to look through your house. I wanted to make sure everything is all right." "Yes, we went through the house, and nothing seems to be missing." That wasn't entirely true. She had only been to the library and kitchen, but according to Walt, Adam and Bill left empty — Bobbi Ann Johnson Holmes

Just in case, he had asked Ms. Townson to call him if William talked about leaving town. He hadn't, obviously, making it possible now for him and William to dig through the refrigerator and stand at the counter making sandwiches together, all of which felt delightfully domestic. This would be their life together. Spreading margarine on white bread and debating if Swiss or American cheese was better. With any luck, they would be spending countless days this way, doing little mundane tasks that were so much better with someone to share them with. — Jay Bell

I moved to the counter. A note was propped on the register. Welcome home, Ms. Lane. Arrogant, overconfident jackass. — Karen Marie Moning

She had an exciting job, several good friends, her cat, her peanut M&Ms, the mystery novels she was forever reading, and - well, me. — Tom Savage

That meant Ms. Starkova was his. He'd found her; he'd tailed her; and he'd saved her from Reinhard Klein. By jungle law, even the urban jungle, that made her his. — Tara Janzen

I was wondering how Ms. Hetley, who seemed to occupy just about every slot on the New York Times hardback, paperback, and e-book bestseller lists, had managed to wring eight five-hundred-page installments out of the concept of wars between rival gangs of vampires and wizards when it seemed obvious to me that all a wizard would have to do to kick a vampire's ass was pounce on it during the day while it was sleeping. How could anyone take this stuff seriously, I wondered. Hetley's graphic depictions of wizard-on-vampire sex, which was creating a bloodthirsty, mutant race of evil, soulless 'vampards', seemed absurd. — Adam Langer

It was Saturday evening and we were in the throes of a Veronica Mars marathon (season two DVD). I decided that when I left "Ms. Townsend, Ice Princess" behind, the New Sadie was going to be like Veronica Mars. She was plucky, cute as a button and she had a smart mouth. — Kristen Ashley

Took her [Ms. Whitlock] long enough to grade it." He mumbles.
True. "But it took us forever to turn it in. She didn't have to accept it was from, she didn't have to let us write it together and she didn't have to give us an A-plus, but she did. — Katie McGarry

SK: What causes a person to be transgender?

MS: I think the question should be flipped around: What's the cause for assuming that one's gender identity has to be the one that you are born with? When I first came into this job, I was much more comfortable about people's sexuality than I was with people's gender identity. But when you hear the same stories over and over again, from people from all over the world, you start realizing that transgender is not an anomaly. It's a part of the spectrum of people's realities. Then you stop wondering about the cause and you start realizing it's a part of reality. — Susan Kuklin

You had something. What was it?" he demanded.
"An alcohol-laced kiss," I said tightly. "Two, to be precise."
"From who?"
"From whom,I believe is the correct phrasing."
"All right, from-the-fuck-whom, Ms. Lane?"
Mac and Barrons — Karen Marie Moning

Barrons Books and Baubles had been ransacked!

Tables were overturned, books torn from shelves and strewn everywhere, baubles broken. Even my little TV behind the counter had been destroyed.

"Barrons?" I called warily. It was night and the lights were on. My illusory Alina had told me more than an hour had passed. Was it the same night, nearly dawn? Or was it the night following our theft attempt? Had Barrons come back from Wales yet? Or was he still there, searching for me? When I'd been so rudely ripped from reality, who or what had come through those basement doors?

I heard footsteps, boots on hardwood, and turned expectantly toward the connecting doors.

Barrons was framed in the doorway. His eyes were black ice. He stared at me a moment, raking me from head to toe. "Nice tan, Ms. Lane. So, where the fuck have you been for the past month? — Karen Marie Moning

Dear Ms. Dunne,
I was hoping that you could come to the school to discuss Katie's rapidly deteriorating behavior in class. Her attention span is short and she distracts other students by her note-passing. How does Wednesday after school sound? You can reach me at the school. You know the number.
Ms. Casey

To Katie,
What do you mean your mum just laughed?
From Toby

Ahern, Cecelia (2005-02-01). Love, Rosie (p. 99). Hachette Books. Kindle Edition. — Cecelia Ahern

I had no words for these feelings. And then people started using the word Ms. Suddenly, there was this handle with which I could identify myself and understand why I felt so out of whack with the culture around me. — Betty Buckley

As Christina held my hand and Ms. Mina held Mama's, there was a moment - one heartbeat, one breath - where all the differences in schooling and money and skin color evaporated like mirages in a desert. Where everyone was equal, and it was just one woman, helping another. That — Jodi Picoult

With all due respect, Ms. Embers," Mr. Bradshaw started, and I couldn't help but notice how he emphasized the word due, "I'm quite disappointed. One of the very first things I taught you was not to overdo it. Try the obvious before using the complex techniques one might expect a spy to use. When lying or making excuses, make it simple. Ms. Embers: do not make up an elaborate tale involving a porcupine, hairspray, and/or a treasure chest. Say, 'I tripped and cut it on a nail on the sidewalk.' Don't make yourself suspicious. — Embee

Dubh is do?" I was incredulous. It was no wonder I hadn't been able to find the stupid word. "Should I be
calling pubs poos?"
"Dubh is Gaelic, Ms. Lane. Pub is not. — Karen Marie Moning

Well, Ms. Fontaine, you look damn good for a dead woman."
Her response was to narrow her eyes, arch a brow. "If that's some sort of cop humor, I'm afraid you'll have to translate. — Nora Roberts

I've made her relive, over and over, the last few days," I say softly, watching Ms. White's body. "I've had to fill in the blanks with my own feelings and experiences. She's spiraling around those last moments, those times when she went against me, and she's feeling it from my side, the pain, the betrayal."
She thinks she's awake. I'm doing to her just what she did to me. I'm making her feel what it was like to slowly go crazy, to question everything. To watch my mother die. To fight for my life against my best friend. To feel the man who loved me try to kill me.
To know that the woman I trusted as much as my own mother betrayed me.
That's what I'm making her feel.
I've turned her into me, and made her live the life she forced me to live.
Over and over and over again. — Beth Revis

Home, Ms. Lane?" His deep voice was gently amused.
"I have to call it something," I said morosely. "They say home is where the heart is. I think mine's satin-lined
and six feet under. — Karen Marie Moning

Not that far away, Ms. Fate, the Nightside's very own leather-costumed transvestite superheroine, was dancing on a tabletop with demon girl reporter Bettie Divine. — Simon R. Green

My hand closed around one of the slightly textured, round items. It was an orange. The crazy ass threw two oranges at me. "I get grumpy when I don't eat, too," he said, like the reason I didn't feel like dying was because of low blood sugar. There weren't enough M&Ms in the world for that. An orange sure as hell wasn't going to do it. — Cambria Hebert

crossed her arms and stared back at him. "I really don't have to tell you anything." "No, you really don't." He pointed to the cops and detectives. "But those guys you do. And I'd have a better story prepared than the bullshit you just tried to feed me." Myers rose. "I need to attend to some things." "I'm sure. Calling a really good lawyer should be first on the list." She hurried from the room and disappeared down the hall to her office. On a hunch Puller went over to the bar where one of the waiters was sitting looking exhausted. He held up his set of keys and said, "Ms. Myers asked me to get something from her car, but she was so distraught she forgot to tell me what make and model." The man said, "Oh, it's the blue BMW 750. License plate says 'Grunt.' She parks it in the back lot." "Thanks. — David Baldacci

I was coming," I said irritably. Fingers handcuffed around my wrist, Barrons dragged me toward the stairs.
"What part of 'directly' didn't you understand?"
"Same part of 'play well with others' you never understand, O cantankerous one," I muttered.
He laughed, surprising me. I never know what's going to make him laugh. At the oddest moments, he seems to find humor in his own bad temper.
"I'd be a lot less cantankerous if you admitted you wanted to fuck me and we got down to it."
Lust ripped through me. Barrons said "fuck" and I was ready. "That's all it would take to put you in a good humor?"
"It'd go a long way."
"Are we having a conversation, Barrons? Where you actually express feelings?"
"If you want to call a hard dick feelings, Ms. Lane. — Karen Marie Moning

This was the feeling that Ms. Hempel couldn't shake: a conviction that she spent her days among people at the age when they are most purely themselves. How could she not be depleted when she came home, having been exposed for hours, without protection, to all those thrumming radiant selves? Here they were, just old enough to have discovered their souls, but not yet dulled by the ordinary act of survival, not yet practiced in dissembling. — Sarah Shun-lien Bynum

Amber Rorman had told me too that our third grade teacher, Ms. Lizetti, was really a lesbian, which I thought was a disease until I asked Amber and Amber told me to ask her mother who told me to ask my mother, who said, "Lesbians are women who like to have sex with other women," which I didn't think was all that weird. — Shannon Celebi

Are you threatening me, Ms. Sutherlin?"
Sutherlin only smiled.
"No. Of course not. All I'm saying is that I'll do anything
to protect him. Anything at all. But there's no need to worry.
I've hurt people. I've hurt them badly. I've left permanent
scars on some clients. Some outer scars. Some inner. But all
that pain I've inflicted ... it was all consensual. I've never hurt anyone without their permission. All I'm saying, Ms. Kanter, is ... " Sutherlin leaned forward and pressed the lightest, softest, most terrifying kiss onto Suzanne's lips before pulling back an inch and whispering, "There's a first time for everything. — Tiffany Reisz

I reached into my bag and pulled out a pumpkin spice muffin with walnuts that was as moist as anything. "It can be plain for breakfast or I can top it with cream cheese frosting. I like a muffin that can go from day to evening."
I gave it to her. She sniffed it, nodded, and held it up.
"How do I know you're not trying to poison me?"
I wasn't expecting that question. "Ms. Morningstar, I swear, if I was going to poison you, I wouldn't ruin a perfectly fine muffin to do it. — Joan Bauer

Our story begins eight years ago when Ms.
Jacobs was living in London with Mr. McAllister.
However, she had to leave the country urgently
due to a family emergency."
"Considering the 'he-was-dead' defence, I'm
sure this will be hugely entertaining." Lily didn't
see it but she heard the scoffing behind Nate's attorney's
tone, that would be attorney number two
or Sarcastic Attorney. Her startled eyes moved to
the man who, she noted distractedly, was staring
at her with extreme distaste.
"Well, I'm not sure one would describe losing
both of one's parents in a plane crash as 'entertaining',"
Alistair noted blandly. — Kristen Ashley

Barrons's hold tightened further. "Give me one good reason not to kill him. Ms. Lane," he growled roughly around thick, long black fangs. "Because I asked you not to, Barrons. That's good enough. You killed the other princes, and I was grateful. I wasn't ready then. I was still afraid of what I'd become. But this last prince is mine to kill or not to kill. And I say no. At the moment. And although Cruce is incapable of understanding that word, I know you know that a no from me means no. And you will honor it," I said in a voice that brooked no resistance. It was one of the defining differences between the two proud, dark, violent males. And if he didn't honor it, he wasn't the man I believed he was. — Karen Marie Moning

An intriguing mouse was Ms. Baird. Gabriel found himself interested, and he'd never before found a mouse interesting. — Nalini Singh

So Uncle Stuart is marrying that lady? Mom says she's going to be our aunt Amy. She's okay except she would't try any peanut butter M&M chocolate chip fudge cookies. They were good- you ate five, remember? But she said she was on a special diet, and couldn't eat something called carbs. We told her we didn't put any carbs in our cookies, just M&Ms, but she said M&Ms were carbs.
Uncle Mitch, what's carbs?
email to Uncle Mitch from Haily and Brittany — Meg Cabot

At its most intense, the admissions process didn't force kids to be Lisa Simpson; it turned them into Eddie Haskell. ("You look lovely in that new dress, Ms. Admissions Counselor.") It guaranteed that teenagers would pursue life with a single ulterior motive, while pretending they weren't. It coated their every undertaking in a thin lacquer of insincerity. Befriending people in hopes of a good rec letter; serving the community to advertise your big heart; studying hard just to puff up the GPA and climb the greasy poll of class rank - nothing was done for its own sake. Do good; do well; but make sure you can prove it on a college app. So — Andrew Ferguson

Ms. Sophia was evil bananas. — Lauren Kate

Someone else knows," I said. "The three most dangerous words in the secrecy business. But there it is. I know, and Ms. Nice knows. Which is why we came back with the RAF. Because where would your plane have landed? Guantanamo, maybe. But it didn't, and we're back in America, free and clear. And we know. I'm sure you could crush Ms. Nice's career, but you'll never find me. I'll always be out there. And you know me, General. You've known me a long time. I don't forgive, and I don't forget. And I won't have to do much. Talking might be enough. Suppose the SVR found out it was you who got Khenkin killed? Some of those IOUs might get canceled. And they might retaliate. Rumors might start, about poor old Tom O'Day, who got so desperate he came up with a cockamamie scheme. — Lee Child

Russ decided the best defense was a good offense. "I'm Russell Van Alstyne, Millers Kill chrief of police." He held out his hand. She shook firm, like a guy.
"Clare Fergusson," she said. "I'm the new priest at Saint Alban's. That's the Episcopal Church. At the corner of Elm and Church." there was a faint testiness in her voice. Russ relaxed a fraction. A woman priest. If that didn't beat all.
"I know which it is. There are only four churches in town." He saw the fog creeping along the edges of his glasses again and snatched them off, fishing for a tissue in his pocket. "Can you tell me what happened, um ... " What was he supposed to call her? "Mother?"
"I go by Reverend, Chief. Ms. is fine, too."
"Oh. Sorry. I never met a woman priest before."
"We're just like the men priests, except we're willing to pull over and ask directions. — Julia Spencer-Fleming

While I was busied in reflection, my eyes fell upon a narrow ledge in the eastern face of the rock, perhaps a yard below the summit upon which I stood. This ledge projected about eighteen inches, and was not more than a foot wide, while a niche in the cliff just above it, gave it a rude resemblance to one of the hollow-backed chairs used by our ancestors. I made no doubt that here was the 'devil's seat' alluded to in the MS., and now I seemed to grasp the full secret of the riddle. — Edgar Allan Poe

What doesn't work is when we adopt some TEMPORARY habits, lose some weight and then pick our previous habits back up. Surprise, surprise. The weight always returns. Live one way, lose weight. Live another way, gain weight. Hhhmmm...how curious.

What also doesn't work is lying to yourself about what you ate and then falling into a crying heap on the scale, playing the victim. Poor you. Never mind you ate three biscuits with butter before your dinner even hit the table at Billy Bob's Feed trough last night--it was only a salad. Never mind you gobbled down five handfuls of M&Ms off the receptionist's desk between trips to the break room for a soda--it was diet! Never mind you drove through Coffee Planet on the way to work and downed a 32 oz. Italian-named mocha-choca-ya-ya worth a day's calories in some starving nations--you skipped the whipped cream and said "no thanks" to the Chihuahua-sized muffin.

I'm telling you, diets work. — Shannon Sorrels

Vampires used to be the Dracula types, but in the last ten years most of them have become weak, brooding androgynes that only go after teenagers. A friend of mine took the opportunity to rid his whole city of them after the forth Mormon Vamps book hit and the sparkle meme was at its strongest."

"So does that make Ms. Mormon Sparkle Vamp a hero?"

"Of a sort. Before they started to sparkle, there were a lot of vamps who were tortured antiheroes, thanks to Rice and Whedon."

Ree grimaced. "Do you know if she was clued in?"

Eastwood shrugged. "She's very secretive, no one in the Underground has been able to say for sure. It's all rumor. My guess is she lost someone to a vampire and decided the greatest revenge she could inflict was to turn them into a laughing stock. — Michael R. Underwood

These ladies are not stupid, or ignorant. Mrs. Thompson can read both Latin and Spanish, and Ms. Voigtlander is a certified speech therapist who once explained to me that the strange gulping sound that makes NBC's Tom Brokaw so distracting to listen to is an actual speech impediment called a glottal L. It was one of the ladies out in the kitchen supporting Mrs. R - - who pointed out that 11 September is the anniversary of the Camp David Accords, which was certainly news to me. What — David Foster Wallace

I started this foundation when I was diagnosed. It was established for one reason, and that was to try to find a cure for MS. Every penny, 100% of the public donations that come into this are given back out in the form of grants to colleges and researchers around the world. — Montel Williams

I was born in a little place called Inverness, MS. — Little Milton

When Pope Francis touched down on French soil for the first time in his papacy with a visit to the European Parliament in Strasbourg last November, Ms. Royal was the senior French official there to greet him. — Elaine Sciolino

You might want to do something about your neck."
I was totally lost. "My neck?"
She reached into her purse and handed me a compact mirror. I opened it and surveyed my neck, still trying to figure out what she could be talking about. Then I saw it. A small, brownish purple bruise on the side of my neck.
"What on earth is that?" I exclaimed.
Ms. Terwilliger snorted. "Although it's been a while for me, I believe the technical term is a hickey" She paused and arched an eyebrow. "You do know what that is, don't you?"
"Of course I know!" I lowered the mirror. "But there's no way - I mean, we barely - that is - "
She held up a hand to silence me. "You don't have to justify your private life to me. But you might want to consider how you can actually keep it private in the next fifteen minutes. — Richelle Mead

When she came in a week later wearing an elegant black jersey dress that caressed her body, he'd said only, "Nice dress, Ms. Baird," and left it at that. Even though that dress made him want to stroke her all over, then push her up against a wall and do things that would make her realize once and for all that he was completely uncivilized under the suits. — Nalini Singh

Vaughn had his back to the entrance, so he turned around to look.
No.
Fucking.
Way.
It was the cantankerous Ms. Doe.
Catching sight of him in that very same moment, she stopped dead in her tracks. Vaughn was pretty
sure she muttered Oh shit under her breath.
His sentiments exactly. — Julie James

The reason we were with Mama that day was because it was a snow day. School was canceled, but we were too little to stay alone in our apartment while Mama went to work - which she did, through snow and sleet and probably also earthquakes and Armageddon. She muttered, stuffing us into our snowsuits and boots, that it didn't matter if she had to cross a blizzard to do it, but God forbid Ms. Mina had to spread the peanut butter on her own sandwich bread. In fact the only time I remember Mama taking time off work was twenty-five years later, when she had a double hip replacement, generously paid for by the Hallowells. She stayed home for a week, and even after that, when it didn't quite heal right and she insisted on returning to work, Mina found her tasks to do that kept her off her feet. But when I was little, during school vacations and bouts of fever and snow days like this one, Mama would take us with her on the B train downtown. Mr. — Jodi Picoult

She blinked at me, then realized I was panicking. Honestly, it was like admitting to murder before being interrogated.
"Ms. Davidson," she began, but I decided to trip her up, to throw her off the trail of blood I'd left like an injured animal.
"I don't speak English. — Darynda Jones

You know, Ms. Morgan, that was your mother you just hammered, Mr. Solomon said. — Ally Carter

Ms Finney shared an office on the third floor with several other court reporters. Their software system was called Veritas. Theo had hacked into it before when he had been curious about something that happened in court. It was not a secure system because the information was available in open court. Anyone could walk into the courtroom and watch the trial. Anyone, of course, who was not confined by the rigors of middle school. — John Grisham

The Daniel, the third poem of the MS., is SO dull that it is no matter who wrote it or when it was written. — Anonymous

An FBI agent, huh?" Trish's expression turned sly. "Is he foxy?"
"That whole story, about the strange coincidence, and my glorious Speech of Many Insults, and the fact that I'm going to be stuck running into this dude forever, and that's your first question? 'Is he foxy?'" Sidney shook her head. "Trishelle..on behalf of womankind, I was expecting a more enlightened discourse."
Trish simply waited.
"Totally foxy," Sidney said. "When he walked up to my table, my first thought was Criminy. Unfortunately, then he spoke."
Trish threw her arm around Sidney. "Somewhere out there, waiting for you, is the total package. A Criminy guy who's just looking for his Ms. Right to settle down with. — Julie James

I moistened my lips. His gaze fixed on them. I think I stopped breathing.
He jerked so sharply away that his long dark coat sliced air, and turned his back to me. "Was that an invitation, Ms.Lane?"
"If it was?" I asked, astonishing myself. What did I think I was doing?
"I don't do hypotheticals. Little girl. — Karen Marie Moning

You've said before, Ms. Nicolson, that your mother was a strong woman. She lived through the war, — Kate Morton

Caring means cultivating the skills of an active listener. That is easier said than done, as an anecdote about the extraordinary social skills of British politicianBenjamin Disraeli and his rival William Gladstone illustrates ... The rivalry between the two statesmen piqued the curiosity of American Jennie Jerome, admired beauty and the mother of Winston Churchill. Ms. Jerome arranged to dine with Gladstone and then with Disraeli, on consecutive evenings. Afterward, she described the difference between the two men this way: "When I left the dining room after sitting next to Gladstone, I thought he was the cleverest man in England. But when I sat next to Disraeli, I left feeling that I was the cleverest woman. — Marian Deegan

But more than anything, as a little girl, I wanted to be exactly like Miss Piggy. She was ma heroine. I was a plucky little girl, but I never related to the rough-and-tumble icons of children's lit, like Pippi Longstocking or Harriet the Spy. Even Ramona Quimby, who seemed cool, wasn't somebody I could super-relate to. She was scrawny and scrappy and I was soft and sarcastic. I connected instead to Miss - never 'Ms.' - Piggy; the comedienne extraordinaire who'd alternate eye bats with karate chops, swoon over girly stuff like chocolate, perfume, feather boas or random words pronounced in French, then, on a dmie, lower her voice to 'Don't fuck with me, fellas' decibel when slighted. She was hugely feminine, boldly ambitious, and hilariously violent when she didn't get way, whether it was in work, love, or life. And even though she was a pig puppet voiced by a man with a hand up her ass, she was the fiercest feminist I'd ever seen. — Julie Klausner

Your daughters will leave this school as confident, resilient young women." Ms. Byrne was off, delivering the private school party line. Resilience. What crap. No kid was going to go to school in a place that looked like freaking Buckingham Palace and come out of it resilient. She should be honest: "Your daughter will leave this school with a grand sense of entitlement that will serve her well in life; she'll find it especially useful on Sydney roads. — Liane Moriarty

Ms Rainn, when was the last time you visited a library for the books and not the free Internet it offers? — S.A. Tawks

I don't mean to offend, but ... how did you die? I mean what happened that made Raphael turn you?" Duncan smiled at her. Cyn thought it was the only time she'd really seen him smile. "You're very straightforward, Ms. Leighton. I admire that. As to your question, I was dying, struck down with so many others during the war." He caught her eye. "That would be the War of Northern Aggression, the Civil War I believe you call it. — D.B. Reynolds

Ms. Fuller explained to me that the reason Sickert gave Ms. Pash for his divulging such a fantastic and shocking story was he wanted the truth "known but not during his lifetime." To prove his point, Sickert supposedly showed Ms. Pash a number of "murder paintings that he later burned," Ms. Fuller told me. — Patricia Cornwell

want you, it's their loss," Grandma said. "Why don't we just wait and see what they say?" Ms. Donatello told me. "I have to go to the bathroom," Georgia said. I didn't want to talk anymore, so I just made like Leonardo the Silent and kept my mouth shut after that. Finally, the office door opened, and Mr. Crawley, the director of the school, came over to talk to us. I tried not to look like I wanted to disappear. Or self-destruct. Or both. "First of all, Rafe," he said, "you should know there are three things we look for in an applicant. One of those is experience. A lot of the students at Cathedral have been studying art since before they could write." "Sure," I said. "I get it. No problem." But he wasn't done yet. "The other two things we look for are talent and persistence," he said. "Not only is that portfolio of yours full of artistic promise, it's also just full. When I see that, I see a boy who would probably keep drawing whether anyone was paying attention or not. — James Patterson

I called her Mrs. Bennington at her insistence. When I'd referred to her as Ms. Bennington, she'd nearly bitten my head off. She was not one of your liberated women. She liked being a wife and mother. I was glad for her, it meant more freedom for the rest of us. — Laurell K. Hamilton

I was inspired to write (Life Continues) to tell people dealing with MS or any other illness that if opening your eyes, or getting out of bed, or holding a spoon, or combing your hair is the daunting Mount Everest you climb today, that is okay. — Carmen Ambrosio

I had one drama teacher who was amazing, Ms. Perkins. She really tried to inspire me and get me going. — Carlos Pena Jr.

Some books don't answer the inside, I read one comic called Ms.Marvel!
Under Marvel can be understand that this person is powerful and can handle a lot of stuff, but reality this wasn't a powerful one or one strong. This guy was a guy who just called the Avengers like Iron Man for help! — Deyth Banger

Thanks, Ms Wilding.'

She raised one eyebrow. 'Who?'

'You must be Tom's daughter, the photographer. You look like him. A prettier version, sexy, even.' His laugh was a smoky rumble as he spun on his heel.

'Don't presume to know anything about me, Mr Lawson.'

He hefted his pack and strode away, power in the length of stride. — Helene Young

Laura's bored expression had gradually fallen away as he spoke, and now she looked at him in amazement.
'You do realize I was being rude? Are you being polite because I am a guest and guests are like, what, gods in Indian culture?'
'Only in the history books. We treat guests the same as most people do around the world. Guests are fine as long as they respect boundaries and don't wear out their welcome. But you are more than a guest, Ms Mackenzie, you are a client. And clients are the gods of any business, anywhere in the world. — Indu Muralidharan

What was striking about Ms. Wilson, and was also true of the other outsiders who volunteered their time that day, was that she spoke to us prisoners with great respect, as if our lives ahead had hope and meaning and possibility. After all these months at Danbury, this was a shocking novelty. — Piper Kerman

Sometimes, Ms. Lane," he said, "one must break with one's past to embrace one's future. It is never an easy thing to do. It is one of the distinguishing characteristics between survivors and victims. Letting go of what was, to survive what is. — Karen Marie Moning

Well,' Otto gave a sly smile, 'I just happened to come across this keycard last night, and it looked like it might come in handy.'

'That keycard was secured in the vault, Mr Malpense,' Ms Leon said sharply, 'a vault that is supposed to be impregnable, I might add.'

'Someone must have left the door open,' Otto replied, a look of false innocence on his face. 'That's the only explanation I can think of. — Mark Walden

We call them taxis where I come from. And bookstores." God, he was stuffy. "We call them manners where I come from, Ms. Lane. Have you any? — Karen Marie Moning

I'm wondering if you can speed this story up a bit," Ms. Jordan said. "I spilled pudding on Missy Trillin's head while she was taking a pee." "I see." Ms. Jordan nodded. "Now I think we're getting somewhere. — James Patterson

Metz's Perfection chronicles with lapidary precision one woman's climb back to happiness after not just a spouse's death, but also the shocking recognition that her life before that death was not what she had thought it was. The journey is a painful one, but Ms. Metz is much the stronger for having survived to recount it. — Julie Powell

My plan was to go on my run, grab Ms. Fancy, drive like a cocaine-attled hell bat to the airport and hurl her and her bags out as I slowed down in the drop off lane. — Joshilyn Jackson

She knew bullshit when it was being tossed at her by the shovelful. "You know, Ms Purcell, I'm at absolute capacity in the friend department. You'll have to apply elsewhere. As for Roarke and his business, that's his deal. As for you, let's get this straight: You don't look stupid, so I don't believe you think you're the first of Roarke's discarded skirts to swing back this way. You don't worry me. In fact, you don't much interest me. So if that's all?"
Slowly Magdelana slid off the desk. "The man is just never wrong is he? I don't like you."
"Aw."
She moved to the door, then stopped, leaned on the jamb as she looked over at Eve again. "Just one thing? He didn't discard me. I discarded him. And since you don't look stupid either, you know that makes all the difference. — J.D. Robb

I have late-stage Lyme disease. I was misdiagnosed for many, many years and told I had lupus, MS, Crohn's disease, even degenerative arthritis. And finally in 2010, I got the correct diagnosis, because on the last Le Tigre tour, I was having several seizures a day and at times not being able to brush my own teeth. — Kathleen Hanna

As a result of this "racism smog," many of our children have internalized all of the negative stereotypes inherent in our society's views of black people. A student teacher at Southern University told me that she didn't know what to say when an African American eighth-grade boy came up to her and said, "They made us the slaves because we were dumb, right, Ms. Summers?" Working with a middle schooler on her math, a tutor was admonished, "Why you trying to teach me to multiply, Ms. L.? Black people don't multiply; black people just add and subtract. White people multiply. — Lisa Delpit

Cassie blamed Damarcus for her kids being in the streets. Damarcus was always in the streets while she stayed home and took care of their children. — Ms. Brii

I ain't no Psy, Ms. Aleine, but even us dumb animals know when two people start exchanging thoughts, something's going on."
She narrowed her eyes at his smug tone. "It was a coincidence."
"Baby, when I think about my body, I don't focus on my cock. — Nalini Singh

In this room I have picked which gun was unloaded out of ten options. And then they pulled the trigger on me. I have picked stocks that went on to skyrocket. I have picked which pencil I would shove into Ms. Robertson's ear until she kicked me out for thinking about it. — Kiersten White

Before MS moved in on me, I'd worked for seven years as a city lawyer, as the editor of a literary magazine, and before the age of 20, I'd also worked as a cadet journalist and as an assistant director in both film and TV. And then, after the lesions of MS, both on my spine and in my brain, I was the opposite of bionic. — M. J. Hyland

At the moment, he kinda knew how the male praying mantis felt when he
was approaching Ms. Mantis, knowing the sex was going to be great but he was going to gethis head bitten off.
Ah, well. Some things were worth losing your head. — Linda Howard

She had opened the refrigerator door and was looking at her supply of frozen microwave dinners with an expression of distaste when the doorman buzzed. Deciding to forget about dinner, something she'd done too often lately, she depressed the switch. "Yes, Dennis?"
"Mr. Payne and Mr. McCoy are here to see you, Ms. Granger," Dennis said smoothly. "From the FBI."
"What?" Jay asked, startled, sure she'd misunderstood.
Dennis repeated the message, but the words remained the same.
She was totally dumbfounded. "Send them up," she said, because she didn't know what else to do. FBI? What on earth? Unless slamming your apartment door was somehow against federal law, the worst she could be accused of was tearing the tags off her mattress and pillows. Well, why not? This was a perfectly rotten end to a perfectly rotten day. — Linda Howard

I do wish, however, that Ms. Olson would give me some credit for the progress I've already made. In 1944, I filed my first 1040, reporting my income as a thirteen-year-old newspaper carrier. The return covered three pages. After I claimed the appropriate business deductions, such as $35 for a bicycle, my tax bill was $7. I sent my check to the Treasury and it - without comment - promptly cashed it. We lived in peace. — Warren Buffett

Morning, Ms. Mary, I will be back to help as soon as I get changed." Ms. Mary cut her eyes toward me and back toward the table with a frown. I followed her gaze. Leaning back in a kitchen chair, looking ridiculously sexy for seven in the morning, sat Jax. He gave me a crooked grin, and my heart went into frenzy. "Hey," I said this without sounding affected by his presence. I know he'd said he would be hanging out in the kitchen more often, but I hadn't realized he meant this early in the morning. "What? Why are you here?" He raised his eyebrows and grinned at me. "I would have thought that would have been obvious." I knew I was blushing. — Abbi Glines

Casey recalled how Gail defended herself in the parking lot of the English & Philosophy Building from the unwanted attentions of a lecherous fellow student, who shall remain nameless. 'Please leave me alone,' Ms Godwin warned the offending student, 'or I shall be forced to wound you with a weapon you can ill afford to be wounded by in a town this small.' The threat was most mysterious, not to mention writerly, but the oafish lecher was not easily deterred. 'And what might that weapon be, little lady?' the lout allegedly asked. 'Gossip,' Gail Godwin replied. — John Irving

It was a mind-blowing experience, it really was-absolutely an awesome thing ... As I got to the top I released a bag of M&Ms in the cockpit. It was amazing ... Looking out that window, seeing the white clouds in the LA Basin, it looked like snow on the ground. — Mike Melvill

This is not exactly what I had in mind when I agreed to miss lunch," Alex said grumpily forty minutes later. He shifted uncomfortably and tried to see what I was doing.
I stared him back into submission. "Wait."
The art room is usually empty Thursday afternoons except for me. Ms. Evers leaves early to teach her UArts class and looks up.Of course, I am one of the few entrusted with the Secret Location of the Key.
A few feet away from where I sat perched on a stool,Alex was posed on the anchient chaise we use for figure drawing. It's a relic, probably from the Palladinetti years: chipped mahogany and dusty velvet, what little remaining stuffing pokes out from a century of holes. I was probably luxurious once. Now it's like sitting on a slightly smelly board. But I'd wanted to sketch Alex as I so often saw him, reclining with his head propped on one hand,listening or talking or coaxing me to put down the glass, already,Ella,and come here. — Melissa Jensen

[O]ut of the blue Sophie asked, "Aunt Faith, what's a vibrator?"

Faith was in mid-swallow and choked on her coffee.
...
"Baby, where'd you hear that?"
...
"My momma was on the phone with her friend Ms. Kim last night, and she said that Lottie Bishop kicked her in the crouch so many times that she didn't know if she'd ever be able to take her vibrator for a test spin again. — Robin Alexander

She stared at me. "I'm sure there's more to it than that, Ms. Moon." I was fairly certain that if she had a ruler, she would have rapped my knuckles with it. "Why — J.R. Rain