Tawny," I barked. My voice held the authority of a drill sergeant. She jumped. "I am NOT making out with you until the end of time. You want to do this, then you've got to work for it. Now, TAKE OFF YOUR CLOTHES." "Oh," said Hugh. "I've waited ten years to hear you say that to another woman.
When we were little, we kept close to our mother in a dark alley or if dogs barked at us. Now, when we feel temptations of the flesh, we should run to the side of our Mother in Heaven, by realizing how she is to us, and by means of aspirations. She will defend us and lead us to the light.
She gave him a double-birded salute, and he barked out a rusty laugh. I'm laughing. Me. When was the last time that had happened? He couldn't remember. But she kept doing things to amuse him. Shock him, even. Like pulling out a sword and expressing a very real fear about zombies. Zombies.
Hathaway!" Stan barked, coming from the direction of the field. "Nice of you to join us. Get in there now! You're lucky you aren't one of the first ones, " he growled.People were even making bets about whether you'd show. " "Really?" I asked cheerfully. "What kind of odds are there on that? Because I can still change my mind and put down my own bet. Make a little pocket money.
Anybody who has ever owned a dog who barked when strangers came near its owner's property has experienced the essential continuity between animal territoriality and human property. Our domesticated cousins of the wolf are instinctively smarter about this than a good many human political theorists.
Eric S. Raymond
Is it the lumberman, then, who is the friend and lover of the pine, stands nearest to it, and understands its nature best? Is it the tanner who has barked it, or he who has boxed it for turpentine, whom posterity will fable to have been changed into a pine at last? No! no! it is the poet: he it is who makes the truest use of the pine-who does not fondle it with an axe, nor tickle it with a saw, nor stroke it with a plane. . . .
Henry David Thoreau
Another guy barked orders to a small army of brooms, mops, and buckets that were scuttling around, cleaning up the city. "Like that cartoon," Sadie said. "Where Mickey Mouse tries to do magic and the brooms keep splitting and toting water." "'The Sorcerer's Apprentice,'" Zia said. "You do know that was based on an Egyptian story, don't you?
From Chapter 11 "Rainy Day Puppy" ("The Missing Tulip Bulbs"): The next few days were hard on the family. It rained. It was cold. Winter had returned. The puppy grew and gained energy equal to a neutron bomb. He bounced and chewed and barked. Everyone was exhausted, except for the puppy. -
Nancy T. Lucas
And do I look like the kind of man that can be intimidated?" barked Uncle Vernon. "Well..." said Moody, pushing back his bowler hat to reveal his sinisterly revolving eye. Uncle Vernon lept backward in horror and collided painfully with a luggage trolley. "Yes, I'd have to say you do, Dursley.
J. K. Rowling
Other pirates leaped over the railing. One, two... seven... thirteen. A baker's dozen. Wait, fifteen. Eighteen... Twenty-one. The odds weren't in our favor. "Maybe they just came over to borrow a cup of sugar," I said. Andrea barked a short laugh. Curran put his hand on my shoulder. "That's a lot of sugar. Must be a big cake.
How can you see something that isn't there?" yawned the Humbug, who wasn't fully awake yet. "Sometimes, it's much simpler than seeing things that are,"he said. "For instance, if something is there, you can only see it with your eyes open, but if it isn't there, you can see it just as well with your eyes closed. That's why imaginary things are often easier to see than real ones." "Then where is Reality?" barked Tock. "Right here,"cried Alec, waving his arms.
I'm trying to decide whether to tell you two to get a room or go barf in the trash can, ' Emma said. 'I'm leaning toward the second choice. You are both getting way too weird. And gross.' Cal barked out a laugh and slid his fingers down my arm to entwine with mine. His touch, and Emma's comments, only made me blush more. Looks like Emma saw Cal lick my face after all. Now that wasn't awkward or anything.
Listen up, Mount High-Hair, " Gustav barked. "Say what you want about me, but lay off the rest of the team. I've been through a lot of stuff with these people. Nobody can tell me that Fancy Dancer and Lady Slick-Pants aren't heroes. Captain Gloom-Cape over there, too. And even Shrimp Charming has his moments." Briar leaned back in her chair. "I admire your ability to insult your friends while you defend them. It's a rare talent.
His gaze narrowed and she could see his hands twitching again like he'd love nothing more than to throttle her. She was beginning to think it was an affliction of his. Did he go around wanting to choke the life out of everyone or was she special in that regard? "I'm afraid 'tis an urge that is entirely original to you," the laird barked. She clamped her mouth shut and closed her eyes. Mother Serenity had vowed one day Mairin would regret her propensity to blurt out her least little thought. Today just might be that day.
News flash, Fern Taylor!" Ambrose barked, slamming his hand against the dashboard, making Fern jump. "Everything has changed! You are beautiful, I am hideous, you don't need me anymore, but I sure as hell need you!""You act like beauty is the only thing that makes us worthy of love," Fern snapped. "I didn't just l-love you because you were beautiful!" She'd said the L word, right out loud, though she'd tripped over it.
Papa, why are you selling our goats? I like these goats." "A week ago the price was five hundred, now it's four hundred. I'm sorry, but we can't wait for it go any lower." Mankhalala and the others were tied by their front legs with a long rope. When my father started down the trail, they stumbled and began to cry. They knew their future. Mankhalala looked back, as if telling me to help him. Even Khamba whined and barked a few times, pleading their case. But I had to let them down. What could I do? My family had to eat.
Yes, I know,' she said in answer to the unasked, for there was no time for explanations. 'Yes. My face is spoilt.' Grandible's jowl wobbled and creased. Then, for the first time that Neverfell could remember, he changed to a Face she had never seen before, a frown more ferocious and alarming than either of the others. 'Who the shambles told you that?' he barked. 'Spoilt? I'll spoil them.' He took hold of her chin and examined her. 'A bit sadder, maybe. A bit wiser. But nothing rotten. You're just growing yourself a rind at last. Still a good cheese.
According to Festus, our flying table, Buford, made it back safely while we were in Charleston, so those eagles didn't get him. Unfortunately, he lost the laundry bag with your pants." "Dang it!" Frank Barked, which Leo figured was probably severe profanity for him. No doubt Frank would've cursed some more -busting out the golly gees and the gosh darns- but Percy interrupted by doubling over and groaning. "Did the world just turn upside down?" he asked. Jason pressed his hands to his head. "Yeah, and it's spinning. Everything is yellow. Is it supposed to be yellow?
That's arrogance, Harry. " he said, gently. "On a level so deep, you don't even realize it exists. And do you know why it's there?" "No?" I asked. He smiled again. "Because you have set a higher standard for yourself. You think that, because you have more power than others, you have to do more with it." "To whom much is given, much is required, " I said, without looking up. He barked out a short laugh. "For someone who repeatedly tells me he has no faith, you have a surprising capacity to quote scripture. And that's just my point." I eyed him. "What?" "You wouldn't be twisting yourself into knots like this, Harry, if you didn't care." "So?" "Monsters don't care, " Michael said. "The damned don't care, Harry. The only way to go beyond redemption is to choose to take yourself there. The only way to do it is to stop caring.
Scott walked away and did not look back. They knew Maggie would try to follow him, and she did. In her world, they were a pack, and the pack stayed together. Maggie whined and barked, and he heard her claws scrape the tarmac like files. Budress had cautioned him not to look back or wave bye-bye or any of the silly things people did. Dogs weren't people. Eye contact would make her struggle harder to reach him. A dog could see your heart in your eyes, Budress told him, and dogs were drawn to our hearts.
The heat is searing and superb. The paddocks surrounding the town are bleached blond. The distant ring-barked gums, mile after mile, wriggle in the heat-waves, and seem to melt like the bristles of a melting hairbrush. The hills turn powder-blue and gauzy. Mirages resembling pools of mica and shallows of crystal water appear at the far ends of streets and roads. Punctually at eleven every burning morning, the cicadas begin to drill the air, to drill themselves also, ceaselessly and relentlessly, to death in one short day after seven long years underground.
The the uncertainty was dispelled and the melancholy lifted as he saw a familiar stocky figure moving near one of the tents. "Halt!" he cried out gladly, and a slight pressure with his knees set Tug galloping through the deserted Gathering site. The dog, caught by surprise, barked once, then shot in pursuit like an arrow from a bow. The grim-faced Ranger straightened from the fire at the sound of his former student's voice. He stood, hands on hips and a frown on his face as Will and Tug careered toward him. But inside, there was a lightening of his heart that he never failed to feel when in Will's company. Not for the first time, the realization hit Halt that Will was no longer a mere boy. No one wore the Silver Oakleaf if he hadn't proven himself to be worthy. Despite himself, he felt a surge of pride.
Though she would have preferred long ago to have died, fled, gotten it all over with, the body-Jesus, how the body!-took its time. It possessed its own wishes and nostalgias. You could not just turn neatly into light and slip out the window. You couldn't go like that. Within one's own departing but stubborn flesh, there was only the long, sentimental, piecemeal farewell. Sir? A towel. Is there a towel? The body, hauling sadness, pursued the soul, hobbled after. The body was like a sweet, dim dog trotting lamely toward the gate as you tried slowly to drive off, out the long driveway. Take me, take me, too, barked the dog. Don't go, don't go, it said, running along the fence, almost keeping pace but not quite, its reflection a shrinking charm in the car mirrors as you trundled past the viburnium, past the pin grove, past the property line, past every last patch of land, straight down the swallowing road, disappearing and disappearing. Until at last it was true: you had disappeared.
A refurbished Star Wars is on somewhere or everywhere. I have no intention of revisiting any galaxy. I shrivel inside each time it is mentioned. Twenty years ago, when the film was first shown, it had a freshness, also a sense of moral good and fun. Then I began to be uneasy at the influence it might be having. The first bad penny dropped in San Francisco when a sweet-faced boy of twelve told me proudly that he had seen Star Wars over a hundred times. His elegant mother nodded with approval. Looking into the boy's eyes I thought I detected little star-shells of madness beginning to form and I guessed that one day they would explode. 'I would love you to do something for me, ' I said. 'Anything! Anything!' the boy said rapturously. 'You won't like what I'm going to ask you to do, ' I said. 'Anything, sir, anything!' 'Well, ' I said, 'do you think you could promise never to see Star Wars again?' He burst into tears. His mother drew herself up to an immense height. 'What a dreadful thing to say to a child!' she barked, and dragged the poor kid away. Maybe she was right but I just hope the lad, now in his thirties, is not living in a fantasy world of secondhand, childish banalities.
Jonquil went by with a full plate of food, and Petunia reached out and tried to snag a small cream puff from it. Jonquil lifted it over Petunia's head before she could, and clucked her tongue. "These are for Lily, " she said. "Oh really?" Petunia gave her a look. "And possibly some are for that Analousian duke Jacques invited, " Jonquil said with a sparkle in her eye. "But none are for you." Then she flipped one to Oliver. "You can have one, my lord earl, " she said, and twirled away. "These are excellent, " Oliver said, eating half of it in one bite. He fed Petunia the other half so she wouldn't get cream on her knitting. Oliver was just leaning in to steal a kiss - "I hope this means you're planning on marrying her, boy, " barked King Gregor. Oliver leaped to his feet. "Sire! Yes! I mean... I... sire!" "I didn't pardon you and restore your earldom so that you could loll around my gardens flirting with my daughters, " King Gregor said. Then he bent down and gave Petunia a kiss on the cheek. "I like him, " he whispered loudly in her ear. "Me too, " she whispered back, blushing.
Jessica Day George
My doggy ate my homework. He chewed it up, " I said. But when I offered my excuse My teacher shook her head. I saw this wasn't going well. I didn't want to fail. Before she had a chance to talk, I added to the tale: "Before he ate, he took my work And tossed it in a pot. He simmered it with succotash Till it was piping hot. "He scrambled up my science notes With eggs and bacon strips, Along with sauteed spelling words And baked potato chips. "He then took my arithmetic And had it gently fried. He broiled both my book reports With pickles on the side. "He wore a doggy apron As he cooked a notebook stew. He barked when I objected. There was nothing I could do." "Did he wear a doggy chef hat?" My teacher gave a scowl. "He did, " I said. "And taking it Would only make him growl." My teacher frowned, but then I said As quickly as I could, "He covered it with ketchup, And he said it tasted good." "A talking dog who likes to cook?" My teacher had a fit. She sent me to the office, And that is where I sit. I guess I made a big mistake In telling her all that. 'Cause I don't have a doggy. It was eaten by my cat.
What do you care?" I barked, and his grip tightened enough on my wrists that I knew my bones would snap with a little more pressure. "What do I care?" he breathed, wrath twisting his features. Wings - those membranous, glorious wings - flared from his back, crafted from the shadows behind him. "What do I care?" But before he could go on, his head snapped to the door, then back to my face. The wings vanished as quickly as they had appeared, and then his lips were crushing into mine. His tongue pried my mouth open, forcing himself into me, into the space where I could still taste Tamlin. I pushed and trashed, but he held firm, his tongue sweeping over the roof of my mouth, against my teeth, claiming me - The door was flung wide, and Amarantha's curved figure filled its space. Tamlin - Tamlin was beside her, his eyes slightly wide, shoulders tight as Rhys's lipe still crushed mine. Amarantha laughted, and a mask of stone slammed down on Tamlin's face. void of feeling, void of anything vaguely like the Tamlin I'd been tangled up with moments before.
Sarah J. Maas
Da. This is going very well already." Thomas barked out a laugh. "There are seven of us against the Red King and his thirteen most powerful nobles, and it's going well?" Mouse sneezed. "Eight, " Thomas corrected himself. He rolled his eyes and said, "And the psycho death faerie makes it nine." "It is like movie, " Sanya said, nodding. "Dibs on Legolas." "Are you kidding?" Thomas said. "I'm obviously Legolas. You're... " He squinted thoughtfully at Sanya and then at Martin. "Well. He's Boromir and you're clearly Aragorn." "Martin is so dour, he is more like Gimli." Sanya pointed at Susan. "Her sword is much more like Aragorn's." "Aragorn wishes he looked that good, " countered Thomas. "What about Karrin?" Sanya asked. "What-for Gimli?" Thomas mused. "She is fairly-" "Finish that sentence, Raith, and we throw down, " said Murphy in a calm, level voice. "Tough, " Thomas said, his expression aggrieved. "I was going to say 'tough.' " As the discussion went on-with Molly's sponsorship, Mouse was lobbying to claim Gimli on the basis of being the shortest, the stoutest, and the hairiest- "Sanya, " I said. "Who did I get cast as?" "Sam, " Sanya said. I blinked at him. "Not... Oh, for crying out loud, it was perfectly obvious who I should have been." Sanya shrugged. "It was no contest. They gave Gandalf to your godmother. You got Sam.
I was taken to a villa to meet Sabri al-Banna, known as 'Abu Nidal' ('father of struggle'), who was at the time emerging as one of Yasser Arafat's main enemies. The meeting began inauspiciously when Abu Nidal asked me if I would like to be trained in one of his camps. No thanks, I explained. From this awkward beginning there was a further decline. I was then asked if I knew Said Hammami, the envoy of the PLO in London. I did in fact know him. He was a brave and decent man, who in a series of articles in the London Times had floated the first-ever trial balloon for a two-state solution in Israel/Palestine. 'Well tell him he is a traitor, ' barked my host. 'And tell him we have only one way with those who betray us.' The rest of the interview passed as so many Middle Eastern interviews do: too many small cups of coffee served with too much fuss; too many unemployed heavies standing about with nothing to do and nobody to do it with; too much ugly furniture, too many too-bright electric lights; and much too much faux bonhomie. The only political fact I could winnow, from Abu Nidal's vainglorious claims to control X number of 'fighters' in Y number of countries, was that he admired the People's Republic of China for not recognizing the State of Israel. I forget how I got out of his office.
Yeye shifted in her seat as Roma stared down at her angrily. 'There are inter-realm laws I must abide by, that the soul must abide by as well when it comes to an appointed manifestation. Whoever was in the world before can not go into the new world. That identity must be forsaken. It must-' 'Forsaken or forgotten?' Roma barked. 'Forsaken, ' Yeye answered. 'Unless you're putting this soul into a blank state like that of a child, it can not be forgotten. It has to be forsaken. That's the rule or you get no soul.' 'So you're telling me that this soul will remember but will never be able to be that person it was?' Roma asked. 'I'm telling you a new memory must be formed with absolutely no reference to the previous.' 'What the freak is that?' Roma asked, visibly agitated. 'You can form new memories while holding on to preexisting ones.' Yeye stood. 'Yes Roma, you're right. But you can also form new memories while you are unable to access the previous ones.' 'Such it would have a drive that belongs to it but would never be able to access or be forbidden to access it?' Roma asked. Yeye's voice was low. 'I'm afraid that's the way it is going to have to be.' Roma shook his head vehemently. 'Exactly which way is that Yeye. Exactly which way is that in common terms?' Yeye spoke in her most resolute tone yet. 'You will never be able to know whether or not this soul is Mara.' Roma gained silence, breathing in and out rapidly. 'We're getting out of this damned Zharfar, ' he said as he stormed out.
I, for example, quiet plainly and simply insist upon annihilation for myself. 'No, ' they say, 'you must go on living, for without you there would be nothing. If everything on earth were reasonable, nothing would ever happen. Without you there would be no events, and it is necessary that there should be events.' Well, and so on I drudge with unwilling heart so that there be events, and bring about unreason by command. People think toute cette comedie is something serious, all there unquestionable intelligence notwithstanding. There lies there tragedy. Well, and they suffer, of course, but ... al the same they live, they live in reality, not in fantasy; for suffering is also life. Without suffering what pleasure would there be in it? Everything would turn into one single, endless church service: much holy soaring, but rather boring. Well, and I? I suffer, but even so I do not live. I am the 'x' in an indeterminate equation. I am one of life's ghosts, who has lost all the ends and the beginnings, and even at last forgotten what to call myself. You are laughing... No, you are not laughing, you are angry again. You are eternally angry, you would like there to be nothing but intelligence, but I will tell you again that I would renounce all this empyrean existence, all these honours and ranks just in order to be able to take fleshy form in the person of a seven-pood merchant's wife and set up candles to God in church. 'So, you don't believe in God either?' Ivan said, smiling with hatred. 'Well, how can I explain it to you, if you are serious, that is... ' 'Does God exist or not?' Ivan barked, again with ferocious insistence. 'Ah, so you are serious? My dear little dove, I swear to God I do not know, pour vous dire le grand mot.
It is impossible to empathise with these mono-dimensional heroes. For half the novel, their lives are nothing short of bliss, which is another way of saying that next to nothing happens. This is exemplary of the dialogue: Scott smiled curiously. "What's so funny?" "I was just wondering what your mam and dad make of us two." "How do you mean?" "I mean, ending up with an Aussie bloke and a common-as-muck Geordie for in-laws. That's seriously bad luck." Tootsie barked excitedly as Tom and Nat spluttered into laughter. Scott attempted to keep a serious face. "Mum and Dad love you both to bits. You know that." The two men stopped laughing to look incredulously at Scott. "Okay, Mum loves you both to bits, and Dad loves you... in his very own way." When Debs walked in through the door, Tom and Nat were helpless with laughter. The dog was yelping, desperate to join in the fun, and Abi sat, merrily bemused by it all. This is revolting. (The dog's name is Tootsie, for goodness' sake.) Unfortunately, as I say, it is also representative. The bottom-numbing banalities of married life, even of gay married life, are not the stuff of literature. At most they make for padding. And Ms Lewis-Foster loves her padding like I love my pudding, or as Fred Susskind loved his pad-play.
I WAS ALMOST HOME WHEN MY LUCK RAN OUT AND THERE WENT MY SUIT, MY KANGOL AND CLOTHES MY FRESH VOLVO ALSO WENT TOO AND THERE WAS NO DENYIN' THAT MY NIGHT WAS THROUGH THE ONE BALLY SHOE THE FRESHEST THING I SPORTED JUMPED ON MY BOARD, FOR HOME I SKATEBOARDED MADE IT TO MY PAD, NO TIME AT ALL WENT TO MY ROOM, OR BETTER YET THE FAR WALL HID THE SHOE AWAY STILL FEELIN' PLEASED THEN JUMPED IN MY COT TO CATCH SOME Z'S EARLY THE NEXT MORNING WHEN I AWOKE I THREW ON ME OLD SLIPPERS AND ME OLD HOUSECOAT WENT INTO THE FRONT, MY FAMILY STARED AT ME SAYIN' 'WASN'T THAT YOU?! NAH, IT COULDN'T BE' THEY KEPT ASKIN' ME AS I DID MY CHORES MY BUTT WAS SAVED BY A KNOCK ON THE DOOR 'WHO IS IT?', THAT'S WHAT MY BROTHERS BARKED 'THE PRINCESS', THIS SWEET VOICE REMARKED SHE SAID SHE WAS LOOKIN' FOR A CERTAIN MAN WHO COULD BRING HER THE SHOE LIKE THE ONE IN HER HAND THE FAMILY RAN AROUND WITH THEIR HEADS IN THE AIR BRINGIN' ON SHOES FROM EVERYWHERE SHE JUST SHOOK HER HEAD, A NOD OF RELIEF SAYIN' 'NO, THAT'S NOT THE ONE THAT I'M LOOKIN' FOR, CHIEF' I RAN IN THE ROOM AND GOT MY SHOE AND SAID, 'IS THIS THE ONE YOU'RE REFERRING TO?' WELL SHE SAID, 'YES, AND YOU'RE SO CUTE BUT WHERE'S YOUR KANGOL AND SLICK SILK SUIT?' I PUT ON THE SHOE, THERE CAME A FLASH OF LIGHT AND I WAS TOUGH IN THE GEAR FROM JUST LAST NIGHT LOOKED OUT THE WINDOW, SAW THE VOLVO SAID TO MY FAMILY, 'I'VE GOT TO GO' WE DROVE UP THE AVENUE, THE PRINCESS AND I AND IN BACK OF ME I HEARD MY FAMILY CRY
Vhat ozzer abilities do you haf?" ter Borcht snapped, which his assistant waited, pen in hand. Gazzy thought. "I have X-ray vision, " he said. He peered at ter Borcht's chest, then blinked and looked alarmed. Ter Borcht was startled for a second, but then he frowned. "Don't write dat down, " he told his assistant in irritation. The assistant froze in midsentence. "You. Do you haf any qualities dat distinguish you in any way?" Nudge chewed on a fingernail. "You mean, like, besides the WINGS?" She shook her shoulders gently, and her beautiful fawn-colored wings unfolded a bit. His face flushed, and I felt like cheering. "Yes, " he said stiffly. "Besides de vings." "Hmm. Besides de vings." Nudge tapped one finger against her chin. "Um... " Her face brightened. "I once ate nine Snickers bars in one sitting. Without barfing. That was a record!" "Hardly a special talent, " ter Borcht said witheringly. Nudge was offended. "Yeah? Let's see YOU do it."... "I vill now eat nine Snickers bars, " Gazzy said in a perfect, creepy imitation of ter Borcht's voice, "visout bahfing." Iggy rubbed his forehead with one hand. "Well, I have a highly developed sense of irony." Ter Borcht tsked. "You are a liability to your group. I assume you alvays hold on to someone's shirt, yes? Following dem closely?" "Only when I'm trying to steal their dessert"... Fang pretended to think, gazing up at the ceiling. "Besides my fashion sense? I play a mean harmonica." "I vill now destroy de Snickuhs bahrs!" Gazzy barked.