Yells Quotes & Sayings

there is a man blocking our way. Sitting astride a tractor with a big scooping bucket on the front, he yells at us for being on his property. We explain the boats, and he says we can't tie up there, that this is his restaurant. We say there's no room anywhere, that the Coast Guard won't let us leave, that they'll shoot at us if we do. He tells us we better go fucking home and get our guns. He tells us we're at war. — Hugh Howey

Why would I want to share anything with a man who yells at me twenty-three hours of every day, then kisses me? — Nalini Singh

But now he stops hammering, his back still to me when he yells, "Would you stop staring at me? — Simone Elkeles

Squished between my grandparents and moving at thirty miles an hour is a small price to pay to get to the vet's office, but today Luke begged to come along, so Papaw is driving even slower than usual. With Luke hunched don behind us in the bed of the truck, obviously without a seat belt, Mamaw keeps her eye on the odometer and yells about "precious cargo" every time the needle nears twenty. — Alecia Whitaker

It reminds me of a string of wet sponges; it reminds me of tattered washing on the line; it reminds me of stale bean soup, of college yells, of dogs barking idiotically through endless nights. It is so bad that a sort of grandeur creeps into it. It drags itself up out of the dark abyss of pish and crawls insanely up the topmost pinnacle of posh. It is rumble and bumble. It is flap and doodle. It is balder and dash. — H.L. Mencken

This was a new recognition that perfection is admirable but a trifle inhuman, and that a stumbling kind of semi-success can be much more warming. Most of all, perhaps, these exultant yells for the Mets were also yells for ourselves, and came from a wry, half-understood recognition that there is more Met than Yankee in every one of us. I knew for whom that foghorn blew; it blew for me. — Roger Angell

When asked the inevitable question of "Does the ball ever talk back?" Mark answered, "The only time that happens is when it's going over the fence, it yells back to me that I shouldn't have thrown that pitch. — Doug Wilson

I've peered into every window, making sure Sthenno isn't within, and am about to concede defeat and return to the meeting place when my light flashes over a small reflective surface back at the far end of the hall.
I sigh.
"This is the place in the movie," I whisper, "when the audience yells for the heroine to run. — Tera Lynn Childs

And running, Will thought, Boy, it's the same old thing. I talk. Jim runs. I tilt stones, Jim grabs the cold junk under the stones and - lickety-split! I climb hills. Jim yells off church steeples. I got a bank account. Jim's got the hair on his head, the yell in his mouth, the shirt on his back and the tennis shoes on his feet. How come I think he's richer? Because, Will thought, I sit on a rock in the sun and old Jim, he prickles his arm-hairs by moonlight and dances with hoptoads. I tend cows. Jim tames Gila monsters. Fool! I yell at Jim. Coward! he yells back. And here we - go! — Ray Bradbury

Henry looks from my face back to the field, and his eyes pop open wide. I turn to see why he's gaping: JJ and Carter are messing around, trying
to shove a scrawny wide receiver into Jerry Rice's stroller.
"JJ!" Henry yells, "You can't fit a freshman in that stroller. — Miranda Kenneally

Encore!" Mark yells out. "With less clothes. Except you Sam, keep your shit on. — Kristen Proby

Looks like our man's got something to hide," Delta yells without breaking his stride as he runs toward the now metal-encased office. Yeah, he's got something to hide, or he's just a terrified billionaire who just saw a group of armed militants running at him in an empty office building in the middle of the night. — Tom Reynolds

I like a tranquil, even-keeled, self-controlled God. A God who doesn't fly off the handle at the least provocation. A God who lives one step above the fray. A God who has that British stiff upper lip even when disaster is looming. When I read my Bible, though, I keep running into a different God, and I'm not pleased. This God says he "hates" sin. Well, he usually yells it. Read the prophets. It's just one harangue after another, all in loud decibels. And when the shouting is over, then comes the pouting ... When all else fails, he throws himself in front of the car. — Mark Galli

Things are going to catch up to you one day, asshole!" She yells as I step into the hallway. "Karma is one hell of a bitch!" "I know." I toss back. "I fucked her two weeks ago ... — Whitney Gracia Williams

My water's wife broke!" he yells into the phone. Ohmygod! "You mean your wife's water broke?" "That's what I said, Jules! Her water broke! — Kristen Proby

During Basic, sometimes you're so tired you can't even get up to piss. You're pushed beyond whatever limits you had set for yourself. You realize that your body can do things that you never imagined. But there are times when you don't think you can go on, and that's when your brother is there to lift you up and push you forward. He yells encouragement when the drill sergeant's yelling obscenities. You know that if you're ever caught by the enemy, your brothers will never stop looking for you. If you're hurt they'll help heal you. The Corps is a unit of many, not one, but dozens, thousands even, who have your back. You can smite one Marine, but a thousand will rose up to avenge him. — Jen Frederick

The yells and yammering, croaking, jibbering and jabbering; howls, growls and curses; shrieking and skriking, that followed were beyond description. — J.R.R. Tolkien

A man stumbles into a deep well and plummets a hundred feet before grasping a spindly root, stopping his fall. His grip grows weaker and weaker, and in his desperation he cries out, "Is there anybody up there?" He looks up, and all he can see is a circle of sky. Suddenly, the clouds part and a beam of bright light shines down on him. A deep voice thunders, "I, the Lord, am here. Let go of the root, and I will save you." The man thinks for a moment and then yells, "Is there anybody else up there? — Thomas Cathcart

More than a building that houses books and data, the library has always been a window to a larger world
a place where we've always come to discover big ideas and profound concepts that help move the American story forward ...
Libraries remind us that truth isn't about who yells the loudest, but who has the right information. Because even as we're the most religious of people, America's innovative genius has always been preserved because we also have a deep faith in facts.
And so the moment we persuade a child, any child, to cross that threshold into a library, we've changed their lives forever, and for the better. This is an enormous force for good. — Barack Obama

Last September 16th, I was walking in downtown Seattle when this pick-up truck pulls up in front of me. Guy leans out the window and yells, "Go back to your own country," and I was laughing so hard because it wasn't so much a hate crime as a crime of irony. — Sherman Alexie

There's a lot that can be said about holding hands. Such a simple gesture, and yet it yells things. This person is mine, it says. It anchors two people together and keeps them rooted. Hands tell complicated stories, and by holding hands, the stories are combined. Lifeline to lifeline. — R.K. Ryals

In an even wilder part of the river's jungle of cane and gum and pin oak, there is an Indian mound. Aboriginal, it rises profoundly and darkly enigmatic, the only elevation of any kind in the wild, flat jungle of river bottom. Even to some of us - children though we were, yet we were descended to literate, town-bred people - it possessed inferences of secret and violent blood, of savage and sudden destruction, as though the yells and hatchets we associated with Indians through the hidden and seceret dime novels which we passed among ourselves were but trivial and momentary manifestations of what dark power still dwelled or lurked there, sinister, a little sardonic, like a dark and nameless beast lightly and lazily slumbering with bloody jaws ... — William Faulkner

I spend 90 percent of my time saying no, and my accountant yells at me for it, but when I started in this business, I wanted my career to have legs. — Omar Epps

In a popular teaching story, a man being chased by a tiger leaps off a cliff in his attempt to get away. Fortunately, a tree growing on the side of the cliff breaks his fall. Dangling from it by one arm - tiger pacing above, jutting rocks hundreds of feet below - he yells out in desperation, "Help! Somebody help me!!" A voice responds, "Yes?" The man screams, "God, God, is that you?" Again, "Yes." Terrified, the man says, "God, I'll do anything, just please, please, help me." God responds, "Okay then, just let go." The man pauses for a moment, then calls out, "Is anyone else there? — Tara Brach

Also there were people going round in such clumsy ways, stopping and starting, and hordes of schoolchildren like the ones I used to keep in order. Why so many of them and so idiotic with their yelps and yells and the redundancy, the sheer un-necessity of their existence, Everywhere an insult in your face. As the shops and their signs were an insult, and the noise of the cars with their stops and starts. Everywhere the proclaiming, this is life. As if we needed, more of life. — Alice Munro

They lift their axes and slice through Raffe's wing joints. They . . . . . his wings . . . I don't know if Raffe yells out in his pain, because all I hear is my own scream. Raffe falls. — Susan Ee

Robin: When you do marry, who will you marry?
Maria: I have not quite decided yet, but I think I shall marry a boy I knew in London.
Robin(yells): What? Marry some mincing nincompoop of a Londoner with silk stockings and a pomade in his hair and face like a Cheshire cheese? You dare do such a thing! You - Maria - if you marry a London man I'll wring his neck! ( ... ) I'll not only wring his neck, I'll wring everybody's necks, and I'll go right away out of the valley, over the hills to the town where my father came from, and I won't ever come back here again. So there!
( ... )
Maria: Why don't you want me to marry that London boy?
Robin(shouting): Because you are going to marry me. Do you hear, Maria? You are going to marry me. — Elizabeth Goudge

Jimmy Stewart could have been a good golfer, but he speaks so slowly that by the time he yells 'Fore!' the guy he's hit is already in an ambulance on the way to the hospital. — Bob Hope

YOU ARE BOTH DEAD TO ME!" I shout.
"Then this is me, speaking from beyond the grave when I remind you to trim your bush while you're at it. No man needs to choke on a hairball!" Beattie yells back from down the hall. — Tara Sivec

Welcome to Fight Club. The first rule of Fight Club is: you do not talk about Fight Club. The second rule of Fight Club is: you DO NOT talk about Fight Club! Third rule of Fight Club: if someone yells "stop!", goes limp, or taps out, the fight is over. Fourth rule: only two guys to a fight. Fifth rule: one fight at a time, fellas. Sixth rule: the fights are bare knuckle. No shirt, no shoes, no weapons. Seventh rule: fights will go on as long as they have to. And the eighth and final rule: if this is your first time at Fight Club, you have to fight. — Chuck Palahniuk

I put my head on his shoulder
'Wh-what are you doing?' he yells, shoving me away from him with wide eyes.
'I was giving you a hug!' I say.
'Y-you-!'
'Pff. D'you really think I'd do that? I'm trying to keep warm, idiot. You're like my overgrown Furby.'
'I'm in a human form, not my kytaen!'
'Tomayto, tomahto.' I come close to him.
He pushes me away. 'You shouldn't be doing that!'
'What's the problem? You said you're my tool, right? Well, I'm cold, tool of mine, so why don't you calm the hell down and give me some of that sweet, sweet warmth?'
'Don't touch me!'
'I'm starting to think you're self-conscious in this form. You let me cuddle you in your other-'
'We did not cuddle!' he shouts.
I manage a grin. 'Would you prefer I use a different word? Snuggle, maybe? — Giselle Simlett

He yells, straightens up with a swear that tells me he is the one, he's the one that broke my Ariel, broke her down made her Freak made her scared of sweet words or touching so I had to walk slow and careful, talk soft and always be patient and never just kiss her like I wanted to. Took away her want to be kissed. — Leah Bobet

I'm pretty strong," he says. "I could cart you around on my back all day long. Hey, I could even teach you to swim."
'Tisn't true," she replies haughtily. "How could you do that?"
I know how--with floats, to keep your feet up."
She shakes her head. He puffs out his cheeks and whistles soundlessly. "I go fishing with my father on Sundays. I can bring you back a hake big as this!" He spreads his arms to show a fish about the size of a whale. "You like hake?"
She shakes her head.
Bass?"
Same response.
Crab claws? We got a lot of them, in the nets."
She turns her chair around and pushes the wheels along--now she's the one who goes away.
Snobby Parisienne!" he yells after her. "And to think I almost fell for you! I smell too fishy is that it? — Sebastien Japrisot

You know what a mistake is, right?"
"Like when Mommy yells at me and then says she is sorry later. — Keira Kroft

On the table in front of me are two baskets. In one is a hunk of cheese, and in the other, a knife the length of my forearm. Behind me, a woman's voice says, "Choose." "Why?" I ask. "Choose," she repeats. I look over my shoulder, but no one is there. I turn back to the baskets. "What will I do with them?" "Choose!" she yells. — Veronica Roth

It doesn't take a majority to change a society, or a faith. Only a small minority that yells, threatens, kills, that is willing to do anything to prove to themselves that they're right. — Roland Merullo

Symptomatic of this rural-urban identity crisis is our eager embrace of a recently imposed divide: the Red States and the Blue States. That color map comes to us with the suggestion that both coasts are populated by educated civil libertarians, while the vast middle and south are criss-crossed with the studded tracks of ATVs leaving a trail of flying beer cans and rebel yells. Okay, I'm exaggerating a little. But I certainly sense a bit of that when urban friends ask me how I can stand living here, "so far from everything?" (When I hear this question over the phone, I'm usually looking out the window at a forest, a running creek, and a vegetable garden, thinking: Define everything.) — Barbara Kingsolver

When someone yells "STOP," I never know if it's in the name of love, if it's Hammertime or if I should collaborate and listen...

(borrowed from Pinterest.) — Jackie Schnupp

Now, while watching these two mini-you's, I want you to see that as dysfunctional as they may be, both of them are essentially good. The Dictator wants you to be healthy and beautiful. It gets frantic about your weight for the same reason you might freak out if you saw a beloved pet wandering into traffic. It screams and yells, pens you in or drags you around - anything to keep you from a horrible fat fate. On the other hand, the Wild Child is the part of you that evolved to avoid starvation and captivity. It panics when the Dictator berates, shames, and tries to control it. It knows the Dictator is planning to starve it. So it's not surprising that the instant the Dictator is weakened by stress, hunger, or environmental chaos, the Wild Child leaps into action and eats like a junkyard dog. — Martha N. Beck

The Doctor: This is bad, I don't like this. [kicks console and yells in pain] Never use force, you just embarrass yourself. Unless you're cross, in which case ... always use force!
Amy: Shall I run and get the manual?
The Doctor: I threw it in a supernova.
Amy: You threw the manual in a supernova? Why?
The Doctor: Because I disagreed with it! Now stop talking to me when I'm cross! — Steven Moffat

Yes, but the difference is that when you're dead and somebody yells, 'Everybody up, it's morning,' it's very hard to find your slippers. — Woody Allen

There is a kind of laughter that sickens the soul. Laughter when it is out of control: when it screams and stamps its feet, and sets the bells jangling in the next town. Laughter in all its ignorance and cruelty. Laughter with the seed of Satan in it. It tramples upon shrines; the belly-roarer. It roars, it yells, it is delirious: and yet it is as cold as ice. It has no humor. It is naked noise and naked malice. — Mervyn Peake

I said - do you want to kill a fucking dragon?" More yells, and more punch behind them this time. Egar eased up out of his crouch and filled his lungs. "I can't hear you! Do you - or do you not - want to kill - a motherfucking dragon? — Richard K. Morgan

Shelley, you think she'll take me back?" Alex asks her, his hair dangerously close to her fingers. She doesn't pull his hair . . . just pats his head gently. I feel the tears running down my cheeks at full speed.
"Yeah!" Shelley yells with a goofy, gummy grin. She looks happier and more content than she's been in a long time. Both of my favorite people are with me right here; what more could I ask for? — Simone Elkeles

Stop!" She advances on me with the most severe, stern look I've ever seen from her, and she yells in a strong voice. "No more. Get it out of your head, Kai! We are not running. This is happening whether you like it or not. It's time to get your game face on and get ready to kick some ass."
Holy ... I honestly didn't think her capable of this kind of verbal badassery. Even in handcuffs she has taken control, walloped me, and forced my whiney inner child into a corner. — Wendy Higgins

To succeed perseverance yells "pain to gain".
If you don't take heed, you'll end up slain! — Manuela George-Izunwa

Don't look back, girl," Gravier yells as we ride off. "You're not going that way! — Celia Mcmahon

The closest fires were near enough for us to hear the crackling flames and the yells of firemen. Little fires grew into big ones even as we watched. Big ones died down under the firemen's valor only to break out again later. — Ernie Pyle

You're hammered, Jack!" Jenna yells back.
The male voice laughs. "Hammered Jack. Jack hammer. I'm a jackhammer."
"You're a jackass," she shouts — Chelsea Fine

How to look after your very drunk friend
Step 1: Find her in the bathroom, slumped against the towel rack

Step 2: Ask her if she needs to be sick. Try not to get offended when she yells that she's NOT DRUNK

Step 3: Tell her it's fine when she apologises, bursts into tears and then falls asleep on your shoulder.

[...]

Step 6: Root around in her front pocket for her keys. Make a joke about inappropriate touching. Laugh when she earnestly tells you that you could touch her anywhere, because nothing's inappropriate when you're best friends.

Step 7: Write it down so you can mock her with it tomorrow, and for the rest of time.

Step 8: Tell her mother that yes, you both had a great time. Pour two glasses of water, carry them both up the stairs (Make her go first, so you can catch her if she trips) — Sara Barnard

With a sigh the young mother returned to the hearthrug and, by way of carrying out her principles of stern neglect, butted her son three times in the stomach so that he caught hold of her hair and pulled it with gleeful yells. Then they rolled over and over in a grand rough-and-tumble until the door opened — Agatha Christie

What the fuck is that?" one of the cops yells. "I'm the magic Negro from all your worst nightmares," Cyrus laughs. "Now scatter!" He swirls his arms like he's gonna shoot a fireball at them and they take off, tearing through the ranks of NYCOD agents and disappearing around the corner. "I like this dude," Riley whispers. Cyrus — Daniel Jose Older

Delores! Hey Dee - you awake?" Because this is New York City, a neighbor immediately yells back, "We're all awake now, asshole! — Emma Chase

There is a Zen story about a man riding a horse that is galloping very quickly. Another man, standing alongside the road, yells at him, "Where are you going?" and the man on the horse yells back, "I don't know. Ask the horse." I think that is our situation. We are riding many horses that we cannot control. — Thich Nhat Hanh

Miss Wyndham, I know you're not pleased with the shocking things you've discovered lately, and I know you'll think even worse of me when I tell you of the things I did before we met. But everything I - "

"Sir, you are a liar and a cheat!" a customer bellowed at the shiner behind us.

Mr. Kent glanced over his shoulder and attempted to ignore the yells. "Everything I do is to - "

"These shoes are still soiled! The mud is right there! Return my money, sir!" the customer yelled again. Mr. Kent bristled and spun around to the shoe shiner.

"Sir, are you wrong in this matter?"

"N-no," the shoe shiner stammered.

"I'm trying to be fair." Mr. Kent turned to the customer. "Are you wrong?"

"Yes, of course I am," he said, his face flushing.

"Then avoid stepping in the mud, shut up, and be on your way! I am trying to convince a girl to love me! — Tarun Shanker

Yells and howls, threaded together layer upon layer, are enmeshed to form that lump. Because of meat. I ate too much meat. The lives of the animals I ate have all lodged there. Blood and flesh, all those butchered bodies are scattered in every nook and cranny, and though the physical remnants were excreted, their lives still stick stubbornly to my insides. — Han Kang

President Oliver, stop staring at my sister and get on the float before I assassinate your butt! Ginnie yells. — Lindsey Leavitt

Thursday," McMurphy says again. "Looooo," yells that guy upstairs. "That's — Ken Kesey

LIFE IN ALEXANDRA was exhilarating and precarious. Its atmosphere was alive, its spirit adventurous, its people resourceful. Although the township did boast some handsome buildings, it could fairly be described as a slum, living testimony to the neglect of the authorities. The roads were unpaved and dirty, and filled with hungry, undernourished children scampering around half-naked. The air was thick with the smoke from coal fires in tin braziers and stoves. A single water tap served several houses. Pools of stinking, stagnant water full of maggots collected by the side of the road. Alexandra was known as "Dark City" for its complete absence of electricity. Walking home at night was perilous, for there were no lights, the silence pierced by yells, laughter, and occasional gunfire. So different from the darkness of the Transkei, which seemed to envelop one in a welcome embrace. — Nelson Mandela

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

What yells out at the US public ... is the incandescent hypocrisy of so many people who, in the name of free speech, persecute its practitioners if their opinions are conservative. — William F. Buckley Jr.

What's the matter? Afraid to come over here and fight a girl?"
"You are no girl," one of the soldiers yells.
"Now that is downright insulting." I squat down and pull daggers from my Doc Martens. "Looks like I'll have to defend my honor. — Tera Lynn Childs

An author, like any other so-called artist, is a man in whom the normal vanity of all men is so vastly exaggerated that he finds it a sheer impossibility to hold it in. His over-powering impulse is to gyrate before his fellow men, flapping his wings and emitting defiant yells. This being forbidden by the police of all civilized nations, he takes it out by putting his yells on paper. Such is the thing called self-expression. — H.L. Mencken

It seemed as if Gisela's screams were growing closer. The brutal kicking stopped. He heard a loud thud and several startled yells. He forced his eyes open. Gisela was on top of Ruexner on the ground, pummeling his head with her fists, while Ruexner held his arms up to protect his face. — Melanie Dickerson

I wanted to be that cranky old guy that stands on his porch and yells at the neighborhood kids. — Robert Lansing

Outside, in the garden, it was playtime. Naked in the warm June sunshine, six or seven hundred little boys and girls were running with shrill yells over the lawns, or playing ball games, or squatting silently in twos and threes among the flowering shrubs. The roses were in bloom, two nightingales soliloquized in the boskage, a cuckoo was just going out of tune among the lime trees. The air was drowsy with the murmur of bees and helicopters. — Aldous Huxley

My best work is not behind me! He yells, You know, nobody does a better split-reed standing anal with an on-demand hands-free pop-shot release. — Chuck Palahniuk

Willa's big blue eyes, Willa's dimpled-cheeked smile. Tiffin's shaggy blond mane, Tiffin's cheeky grin. Kit's yells of excitement, Kit's glow of pride. Maya's face, Maya's kisses, Maya's love.
Maya, Maya, Maya ... — Tabitha Suzuma

I don't care if I tell that story and John Roderick gets up afterward and yells, 'I hope you enjoyed the white privilege, mortality comedy of John Hodgman!' That's me! I'm going to play a sad Handsome Family song at the end and I guarantee you everyone is going to love it because, sometimes, you need a grown man or woman to tell you what you like. — John Hodgman

The moment he sees a glimpse of underwear, he will be officially in Sicko Land and he will be forced to make some kind of noise. Flushing, coughing, heavy footsteps. Talk to himself out loud. The moment he sees anything that in anyway will be considered a sexual act between ...
"Stani, the bins are done!" he yells out. — Melina Marchetta

What's up with guys? All they see is a bright smile, and they never look past a woman's tits until they get married and then they wonder why Mary Sunshine got replaced with Sally Yells a Lot. — Lexi Blake

Alex!" Brittany yells my name from the front of the gallery.
I'm still smoking and trying to forget that she brought me here because I'm her dirty little secret. I don't want to be a fucking secret anymore.
My pseudo-girlfriend crosses the street. Her designer shoes click on the pavement, reminding me she's a class above. She eyes Mandy and me, the two blue collars, smoking together.
"Mandy here was about to show me her tattoos," I tell Brittany to piss her off.
"I'll bet she was. Were you going to show her yours, too?" She eyes me accusingly.
"I'm not into drama," Mandy says. She throws down her cigarette and smashes it with the tip of her gym shoe. "Good luck, you two. God knows you need it. — Simone Elkeles

Libraries remind us that truth isn't about who yells the loudest, but who has the right information. Because even as we're the most religious of people, America's innovative genius has always been preserved because we also have a deep faith in facts. — Barack Obama

But the lawyer he jumps on the table and yells, and says: "Gentlemen - gentlemen! Hear me just a word - just a single word - if you please!

There's one way yet - let's go and dig up the corpse and look. — Mark Twain

Far beneath the tainted foamThat frets above our peaceful home,We dream in joy and wake in loveNor know the rage that yells above. — John Gardiner Calkins Brainard

You're too good for me."
He laughed. "Are we talking about the same person? The selfish fucker who curses and yells, blows up cars and beats up people, because he has a temper he can't control? You know, the one who drinks like a fish and fries his brain with drugs? That person is too good for you?"
She shook her head. "I'm talking about the boy who shared his chocolate bar with me when he probably never shared anything before, who gave me his mama's favourite book, because he thought I deserved to read. The one who seems to be constantly fixing me up when I get hurt. I'm talking about the boy who treats me like I'm a regular girl, the one who desperately needs his bedroom cleaned and laundry washed but chooses to live in a mess and wear dirty clothes, because he's too polite to ask the girl he kisses for help."
"Wow," Carmine said. "I'd like to meet that motherfucker. — J.M. Darhower

Let not thy sword skip one:
Pity not honour'd age for his white beard;
He is an usurer: strike me the counterfeit matron;
It is her habit only that is honest,
Herself's a bawd: let not the virgin's cheek
Make soft thy trenchant sword; for those milk-paps,
That through the window-bars bore at men's eyes,
Are not within the leaf of pity writ,
But set them down horrible traitors: spare not the babe,
Whose dimpled smiles from fools exhaust their mercy;
Think it a bastard, whom the oracle
Hath doubtfully pronounced thy throat shall cut,
And mince it sans remorse: swear against objects;
Put armour on thine ears and on thine eyes;
Whose proof, nor yells of mothers, maids, nor babes,
Nor sight of priests in holy vestments bleeding,
Shall pierce a jot. There's gold to pay soldiers:
Make large confusion; and, thy fury spent,
Confounded be thyself! Speak not, be gone. — William Shakespeare

I can see inside planes!' he yells. 'Come and look!'
It's difficult climbing in a mini dress ... I haul myself up even though my arms ache. I want to see inside planes too. I want to watch the wind and catch birds in my fist. — Jenny Downham

The leader is the one who climbs the tallest tree, surveys the entire situation, and yells, 'Wrong jungle!' ... Busy, efficient producers and managers often respond ... 'Shut up! We're making progress!' — Stephen Covey

She turns her head, throws the damn thing with a strong flick, and it lands in the side of a wooden heron's head. Holy shit. I can't believe it. Lust bashes me like a sledgehammer, and I suddenly imagine her naked.
"Dude!" Blake yells, snapping me back to reality.
Anna stares down at me like she's conquered me. "You showed your colors!"
"Did not," I reply quickly. But even as I say it, I think I bleedin' well might've. — Wendy Higgins

cursing, the delicate use of profanities, and some good basic slang to help you navigate the world of spoken German. So when a drunk harasses you in a Frankfurt bar, you'll know just how to tell him to "get lost" or "fuck off" (whichever you prefer); when a woman speaks to you of her Muschi, you'll know that she is either talking about her cat or a part of her own anatomy (you be the judge); and when the hitchhiker you picked up on the autobahn yells, Vorsicht! Bullen!, you'll know he is not warning you of cattle crossing the road but of the police. — Gertrude Besserwisser

Well, it would be helpful to not have to go through all of these in Braille," the man said. "I'm looking for the local wildlife guide and one other book." He held a paper out in front of him, and she took it. "The head librarian wrote the authors' names down for me," the man said, grinning. "I don't think she realized I couldn't read it." "That would be my boss," Julia sighed. "She's ... she's the kind of person who yells at deaf people. — Aubrey Rose

Now she is cuddling and kissing me all over and ... Cody walks right in just as we're cooing (or haved cooed again) on the bed and he yells our Ah just what I like to see in the morning, boys and girls! — Jack Kerouac

Yells of joy, thousands in chorus. It sounded almost like they were cheering her on. — Brandon Sanderson

Christ!" he yells, sinning, — Scary

I need to touch the person's head again. Experience has taught me that you can do this three times before the head's owner either yells at you or rings for the flight attendant. — David Sedaris

Cam starts laughing, "Oh, I love it when she reads." He turns to Lucy who's face is starting to contort and turn to a bright shade of red, "She reads these smutty books, like full on dirty shit, full of sex and like ... bdsm shit."
"I'm not joking boys, they're like full on pornographic. Talking about silky shafts and veiny dicks and shit," Logan is now on the ground holding his side from the pain of laughing too hard.
"Sometimes she'll be reading, then all of sudden she'll put her book down and look at me like she wants to eat me, literally eat me!" he yells, laughing harder, still swatting away her hands that are trying to shut him up, "I mean I don't mind it, not at all. It's hot as fuck. And she wants to try everything she reads in these books. Like ... everything. She learns everything from these books ... so I don't give a shit when, of how much she reads, I get rewards. — Jay McLean

Have you heard of this thing called the Internet?" CSI yells into the echoing abyss. — Anonymous

Ike! Jack yells, pointin at the villains at the table. Look! He's takin seconds!
Oh no, he ain't! — Moira Young

I already told you, I'm not gonna subscribe to your stupid magazine!' she yells.
'We're not selling anything,' Jake calls back. 'We just came to see my favorite chula this side of the Mississippi.'
The girl pauses and shields her eyes to get a better look. 'Jacob? That you?'
'In the flesh,' he confirms with a broad grin. — Hannah Harrington

Takes one to know one. What kind of guy makes a girl an amazing cake without expecting something in return?"
"A guy who doesn't exist!" Renee yells from the couch, her mouth still full of cake. I hoped she didn't choke. — Chelsea M. Cameron

Get him to his cage! Amanda yells. I'm naked, with Fluffy balancing on a magazine, and somehow I make my way down the hall, to the study, and place the entire magazine inside, my hands shaking nonstop. — Karina Halle

Who's there?" he called, then frowned. "Of course," he added, addressing the darkness all around, "even I, as a Shadowhunter, have seen enough movies to know that anyone who yells 'Who's there?' is going to be instantly killed. — Cassandra Clare

Shit!" he yells. "I hate that I can't protect you from this. — Jenny Han

Comes a day when everything you thought you had put behind you sets up its tent in the middle of what you were still hoping you could call tomorrow and yells out, 'Right this way.'

Well, here I come. — Laird Hunt

Everyone's fascinated by twins - the bond between them, the way they communicate - "
"He yells 'Hey, stupid!' That's how Charlie communicates with me."
"Very funny. Come on, it's a great idea! And since I know you both so well, I won't feel weird interviewing you. It can be an in-depth, sensitive, soul-searching kind of thing."
"Charlie has no depth." Frowning, Emma considered the matter, then shook her head. "The soul part I'm not so sure about, but you can definitely rule out sensitive. — Richie Tankersley Cusick

I can't swallow another drop of soda by this point because the carbonation is burning my throat.
"Oh really? Well ... " I trail off as I feel bubbling at the base of my throat. This is not good.
Before I can stop myself, I let out the biggest burp I've ever, ever, ever had. I slap a hand over my mouth and stare at Logan whose eyebrows have reached astronomical heights.
"Dude! So not smooth, man! Girls cannot stand rudeness," Dan yells from the back room. — Leah Rae Miller

Harry lost any sense of where they were: Streetlights above him, yells around him, he was clinging to the sidecar for dear life. Hedwig's cage, the Firebolt, and his rucksack slipped from beneath his knees
"No - HEDWIG!"
The broomstick spun to earth, but he just managed to seize the strap of his rucksack and the top of the cage as the motorbike swung the right way up again. A second's relief, and then another burst of green light. The owl screeched and fell to the floor of the cage.
"No - NO!"
The motorbike zoomed forward; Harry glimpsed hooded Death Eaters scattering as Hagrid blasted through their circle.
"Hedwig - Hedwig - "
But the owl lay motionless and pathetic as a toy on the floor of her cage. — J.K. Rowling

They're at the gates now, and there's no lock on them that Parks can see, but they don't open. Used to be electric, obviously, but bygones are bygones and in the brave new post-mortem world that just means they don't bloody work. "Over!" he yells. "Up and over!" Which is easily said. A head-high rampart of ornamental ironwork with functional spear points on top says different. They try, all the same. Parks leaves them to it, turns his back to them and goes on firing. The up side is that now he can be indiscriminate. Set to full auto and aim low. Cut the hungries' legs out from under them, turning the front-runners into trip hazards to slow the ones behind. The down side is that more and more of them keep coming. The noise is like a dinner bell. Hungries are crowding into the green space from the streets on every side, at what you'd have to call a dead run. There's no limit to their numbers, and there is a limit to his ammo. Which — M.R. Carey

And right on cue, Viola yells, " TODD! "
And I hit him with everything I got -
Every bit of her behind me -
Every piece of anger and frustrayshun and nothingness -
Every moment I didn't see her -
Every moment I worried -
Everything -
Every little tiny thing I know about her -
I send it right into the center of him -
VIOLA — Patrick Ness