Where Forgot To Tell Quotes & Sayings

I'll tell you how I'd like to be remembered: As a black man who won the heavyweight title - Who has humorous and who never looked down on those who looked up to him - A man who stood for freedom, justice and equality - And I wouldn't even mind if folks forgot how pretty I was. — Muhammad Ali

Tell me, about the light that you are trying to find. Tell me, where you are searching for it. For all the places you had been and for every moment you failed. You forgot to look around and realise that everyone you meet, is doing the same. The day you realise that the light, which you always searched for, was inside you. And you are the home, for all the answers to every question you ever had. The time will freeze at once for you. You become the light that you always searched. — Akshay Vasu

I almost forgot to tell you - you have the right to remain silent, but if you do, my boys at the station will process your bones to help you confess. — Rohinton Mistry

I want to tell you that it's horrible. I want to tell you that being suppressed makes every moment of existence a torment, because maybe that would help--but it would be a lie. In fact, the most horrible thing is how easy it is to slide into contentment, how hard it is to nourish anger or regret. If you lose the sense of smell, say, or taste, you'd grieve for it; but if you were born without that sense, you'd never miss it. That's how it was for me--the sense was gone, as though it has never been. For the first few years after suppression, I kept myself in misery by sheer effort of will, trying to imagine, every day, what it was that I had lost. But in the end, it became to much trouble. I gave in to the inevitable. I forgot. — Raphael Carter

And your words ... "
"Tell me about my words."
"They make me crazy."
"Which ones, specifically?"
"All of them. Any of them."
"So mostly 'and', and 'when', and 'if'."
It's another challenge, ten hurdles high. I can clear it, though. I can.
"No. Mostly 'sex' and 'pleasure' and the way you just said 'wet'."
"Like it excites me."
"Yes. Exactly, yes."
"Like I want you to tell me all about that slippery seam between your legs, and how eager you must be to have someone lick their way over it."
"Oh, God, yes."
"And how I would, if I were there. I'd kiss your pussy until you forgot every little sliver of that restraint, play with your nipples to make them so pretty and stiff, slide my fingers inside you just as I think you might be doing now. Are you? — Charlotte Stein

How are you, darling? Your momma didn't tell me you were in town. But your momma isn't talking to me right now - I disappointed her again somehow. You know how that goes. I know you know!" She let out a rocky smoker's laugh and squeezed my arm. I assumed she was drunk. "I probably forgot to send her a card for something," she babbled on, overgesturing with the hand that held a glass of wine. "Or maybe that gardener I recommended didn't please her. I heard you're doing a story about the girls; that's just rough. — Anonymous

What magicians we are, turning darkness into light, transforming invisible atoms into dazzling theater of the world, pulling objects, (people as well as rabbits) out of secret microscopic closets, turning winter into summer, making a palmful of moments disappear through time's trap door. We learned the methods so long ago that they're unconscious, and we've hypnotized ourselves into believing that we're the audience, so I wonder where we served our apprenticeship. Under what master magicians did we learn to form reality so smoothly that we forgot to tell ourselves the secret? — Jane Roberts

Oh, Charlotta dear, I'd have told you all about it if it were my secret ... but it's Miss Lavendar's, you see. However, I'll tell you this much ... and if nothing comes of it you must never breathe a word about it to a living soul. You see, Prince Charming is coming tonight. He came long ago, but in a foolish moment went away and wandered afar and forgot the secret of the magic pathway to the enchanted castle, where the princess was weeping her faithful heart out for me. But at last he remembered it again and the princess is waiting still ... because nobody but her own dear prince could carry her off."
Oh, Miss Shirley, ma'am, what is that is prose?" gasped the mystified Charlotta. — L.M. Montgomery

So here he sits one drunk nigger in a puclic libary after closing, with the book open in front of me and the bottle of Old Kentucky on my left. 'Tell the truth and shame the devil,' my mom used to say , but she forgot to tell me that sometimes you can't shame Mr Splitfoot sober. The Irish know, but of course they're God's white niggers and who knows maybe they're a step ahead. — Stephen King

...On their first day in the new house, Addams had gotten up in the dark. From the surrounding swamp came bloodcurdling screams - the sound of possums mating, Tee later speculated, though it was perhaps a fisher, the dark-colored marten who stalked the wetlands, rooting rabbits from their nests. Addams returned to bed. "Someone is murdering babies in the swamp," he said. "Oh darling," came the sleepy reply from the pillows, "I forgot to tell you about the neighbors."

"All my life I wanted to live in one of those Addams Family houses, but I've never achieved that," Addams had recently told a reporter. "I do my best to add little touches," he said. ...Still, he conceded, "it's hard to convert a ranch-type house into a Victorian monster." — Linda H. Davis

Antonia: I meant to tell you, and then forgot: call a spade a spade, and say 'arse', 'prick', 'cunt', and 'fuck', otherwise the only people who'll understand you will be the scholars of the Capranica think tank - you and your 'rose in the ring', your 'obelisk in the arsenal' your 'leek in the garden', your 'bolt in the door', your 'key in the lock', your 'pestle in the mortar', your 'nightingale in the nest', your 'sapling in the ditch', your 'syringe in the flap-valve', your 'sword in the sheath'; and the same goes for 'the stake', 'the crozier', the parsnip', 'the little monkey', 'his thingummy', 'her thingummy', 'the apples', 'the leaves of the mass book', 'that thingy', 'the graceful whatyamacallit', 'that whatsit', 'that doings', 'that latest news', 'the handle', 'the dart', 'that carrot', 'the root' and all the other shit that comes out of your mouth, but there you go, pussyfooting around. Let your yes mean yes, your no, no, and otherwise, just shut it. — Pietro Aretino

Surprise, dickhead, Mama forgot to tell you a few things about me. (Zarek) — Sherrilyn Kenyon

I worked at a McDonald's drive-through. I could always tell when girls were interested: They'd drive around again and say, 'I forgot something.' — James Franco

You really pay attention to things, don't you?" "Just with people I care about," he said with a smile, "I think I get that from my mother. She was a really kind and giving person from what I remember, and she used to tell me, 'Don't just listen to people, hear them.' I never forgot that." "Wow," I responded, "That's so true. How many people really hear what we say? — Jackie Pilossoph

But, Bill, old scout, your sister says there's a most corking links near here."
He turned and stared at me, and nearly ran us into the bank.
"You don't mean honestly she said that?"
"She said you said it was better than St. Andrews."
"So I did. Was that all she said I said?"
"Well, wasn't it enough?"
"She didn't happen to mention that I added the words, 'I don't think'?"
"No, she forgot to tell me that."
"It's the worst course in Great Britain. — P.G. Wodehouse

No sooner had one season slipped out the door than the next came in by another door. A person might scramble to the closing door and call out, Hey, wait a minute, there's one last thing I forgot to tell you. But nobody would be there any more. The door shuts tight. Already another season is in the room, sitting in a chair, striking a match to light a cigarette. Anything you forgot to mention, the stranger says, you might as well go ahead and tell me, and if it works out, I'll get the message through.
Nah, it's okay, you say, it was nothing really. And all around, the sound of the wind. Nothing, really. A season's died, that's all. — Haruki Murakami

She was lying to him."
"But she is lying to him. You are lying to him aren't you?" Darren asked
as he turned to me.
"Of course!"
"But the priest didn't know she was lying. Afterward, Moira had to chase
Jacobi down to tell him the truth and then he hit her."
"He hit you?!"
"Just in the arm. And even though it was supposed to be a hit it felt
more like a love tap."
"You guys! Y'all are making me skip over the best part!"
"Right, the part where Moira is doomed to burn in hell. I almost forgot.
Go ahead," Darren encouraged. — Kaitlin Scott

A guy says, I'm so old that I forgot how old I am. An old woman says, I'll tell you how old you are. Take off your clothes and bend over. The man does this. The woman says, You're seventy four. The man says, How can you tell? The woman says, You told me yesterday. — Henny Youngman

Do you ever leave a message for somebody and the answering machine cuts you off, and you have to decide whether you should not call back, or call back and appear like a stalker? "Hi. It's me again. I forgot to tell you that I'm going to kill you. Because I'm the freak who keeps calling and calling." — Jim Gaffigan

But now I give in, let the anger surge. I'm sick of people acting like this world, this other world is the normal one, while I'm the freak. It's not fair; like all the rules have suddenly changed and somebody forgot to tell me. — Lauren Oliver

Do you like my working persona?" Saiman asked softly. "An aesthetically pleasing combination of intelligence and elegance, wouldn't you say?"
Aren't we pleased with ourselves. "Are you Chinese, Japanese, half-white? I can't tell, your features are neither here nor there."
"I'm inscrutable, mysterious and intellectual."
He forgot conceited. "Did you have any trouble getting that ego through the door?"
Saiman didn't even blink. "Not in the least. — Ilona Andrews

I forgot my balls," Lucas said coming over.
"Your what?"
"My balls. Apparently I left them in this room somewhere, because otherwise I'd have had them in your office in order to tell you that you're full of shit," Lucas replied. — Mia Watts

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 don't wonder anymore what I'll tell God when I go to heaven when we sit in the chairs under the tree, outside the city ... I'll tell these things to God, and he'll laugh, I think and he'll remind me of the parts I forgot, the parts that were his favorite. We'll sit and remember my story together, and then he'll stand and put his arms around me and say, "well done," and that he liked my story. And my soul won't be thirsty anymore. Finally he'll turn and we'll walk toward the city, a city he will have spoken into existence a city built in a place where once there'd been nothing. — Donald Miller

After living in Smokey Hollow these three months my bearded face was darkened to a tan, and for more than a moment, I couldn't tell what color I was. Black is what I saw and what I expected to see. I grabbed a towel and rubbed to get a clear look. No, I was white. At least my skin was. I had been through so much with my family here, and all I had seen was black faces, that I forgot for a split second that I wasn't black too. For weeks after the flood in the bathroom, I remembered the morning I forgot my skin color. — Peter Jenkins

Mr. Sue Me, one day we'll be reunited with our own two angels. If you get there before me, tell them I love them and never forgot. I'll do the same for you. — Tara Sue Me

Oh, I forgot to tell you," Cookie said. "Amber wants your dad to get a teriyaki machine so she can sing for all the lonely barflies."
"I'm a good singer, mom."
Only a twelve-year-old could make the word mom sound blasphemous.
I leaned into Cookie, "Does she know its not called
?"
"No," she whispered.
"Are you gonna tell her?"
"No. It's much funnier this way. — Darynda Jones

No, you love to confuse me and drive me crazy. You don't really love me. You don't know what love is."
"Yeah, I think I do." His brows lowered, and he took a step toward her. "I have loved you my whole life, Delaney. I can't remember a day when I didn't love you. I loved you the day I practically knocked you out with a snowball. I loved you when I flattened the tires on your bike so I could walk you home. I loved you when I saw you hiding behind the sunglasses at the Value Rite, and I loved you when you loved that loser son of a bitch Tommy Markham. I never forgot the smell of your hair or the texture of your skin the night I laid you on the hood of my car at Angel Beach. So don't tell me I don't love you. Don't tell me
" His voice shook and he pointed a finger at her. "Just don't tell me that. — Rachel Gibson

But books were full of stories and stories were full of lies and lies hurt Jesus's feelings, so I didn't know what to think. I blamed my family. They were the ones who taught me so much about telling stories, and how not to do it, and then, in inspired moments of surprise, how to tell one so good you forgot what day it was, and I liked forgetting what day it was, so I made certain life choices that would allow me to get paid to forget what day it was and teach others to forget what day it was, which is, after all, what I think heaven probably is: the whole world, forgetting what day it is. You have to, I bet, with an endless supply of them. — Harrison Scott Key

Some of the fae have an odd idea of bride send-offs," he explained "including, according to Zee, kidnapping." "I forgot about that." And I was appalled because I knew better. "Bran and Samuel are probably more of a danger than any of the fae," I told him. "Someday, I'll tell you about some of the more spectaculare wedding antics Samuel's told me about." Some of them made kidnapping look mild. — Patricia Briggs

What's killing him is the idea that I will die unhappy, in a miserable marriage. He hates that my life isn't ending on a good note ... So I told him that he's a good man and was the love of my life, both of which are true. I tried to tell him all the things I hadn't told him before ... Mostly, I wanted him to understand the real reason I'd thought our marriage was over. It was over because we forgot to stay in love. Both of us. — Marisa De Los Santos

He could not remember a time when she had not been in his life. Their first meeting seemed like an eternity away. 'Love at first sight' everyone said, and she often teased him about his inability to form coherent words when he gazed into her eyes, so profound was his love. They had never spent a day apart, and there had never been a day when he forgot to tell her how much she meant to him...Today was no exception... — Virginia Alison

The eighties?' I said. 'As in, the nineteen-eighties? The decade that taste forgot? Honest, Sophie, ask your granny. Ask mine, if you like. She'll tell you the only good thing about it was that the internet and phone cameras weren't invented, well hardly anyway, so most of the awful photos are lying out of sight in drawers and shoeboxes. — Ken MacLeod

It was not as good as riding Dancer, but there were places Dancer could not go, and this did not shame Bran the way it did when Hodor carried him in his arms like a baby. Hodor seemed to like it too, though with Hodor it was hard to tell. The only tricky part was doors. Sometimes Hodor forgot that he had Bran on his back, and that could be painful when he went through a door. — George R R Martin

He followed her into the bathroom and sat on the shut toilet seat while she washed her back with a brush. "I forgot to tell you," he said. "Liza sent us a wheel of Brie." "That's nice," she said, "but you know what? Brie gives me terribly loose bowels." He hitched up his genitals and crossed his legs. "That's funny," he said. "It constipates me." That was their marriage then
not the highest paving of the stair, the clatter of Italian fountains, the wind in the alien olive trees, but this: a jay-naked male and female discussing their bowels. — John Cheever

Come closer, and I will tell you.
But he forgot. He kissed her, and became lost in the exquisite sensation of his skin becoming too tight for his body. He murmured other things instead. A secret, a want, a promise. A story, in its own way. — Marie Rutkoski

I missed him so much I would sometimes turn to tell him something before I forgot he was gone. In spite of all that, and all the emotion boiling around inside me, all I could think of to say was: You're blue. — Rick Riordan

Earth is sad, Moon is shy, Sun is happy but wait a moment, I just forgot to tell you that I am the child of open sky. — Santosh Kalwar

And sometimes when I tilt my head,
in that deep sleep, I realize I forgot to tell you
what happened at work, in the thick of,
all other rubbish daily stuff.
And then I hate to believe, it's more than
5 hours to hit the snooze, and now suddenly
the night seems longer- than any lazy afternoon.
I want to talk to you now, before I forget
How I have imagined you will react, word by word,
And act by act.
But I kind of manage dozing off in a few minutes,
And I clearly forget it morning,
This entire instance.

But tonight- when you are asleep, and I am
Wide awake like a snake, I don't say I forgot any
Buzz to discuss, but I have this insane gush
Of words of tell you I how much I have loved you through.
Precisely none of this should be forgotten,
So I decide to write this poem and tell you,
I am so much in my moment of truth. — Jasleen Kaur Gumber

How long have we lived together?"
"Too fucking long. That reminds me, I forgot to tell you years ago, pack your shit and get out. — Ella Frank

You forgot your dress," Renny said, staring straight ahead while he white-knuckled the control wheel and jettisoned toward the security checkpoint.
"Never let anyone tell you," she panted, "that I don't know how to make an exit. — Melissa Landers

Then I surrendered the innocent heart of my childhood and extended my hand to Satan. I walked into Hell, conversed with demons past, found my stolen tears and painfully wept, tasting those acrid drops. Shaking my fists to the heavens, I questioned my God many times, "I'm so disappointed in you, God. So disappointed," I sobbed. "You," I fought to catch my breath, "you forgot to tell the world I was supposed to be a princess, God, a princess! Somebody's princess. So disappointed, so very . . . — Kim Michele Richardson