Hiss Quotes

Authors: A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z
Categories: A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z
purr-more-hiss-less-linda-c-marchman
every-time-our-cat-tries-to-hiss-she-has-all-choked-up-thats-what-she-gets-for-being-mean
with-a-hiss-of-the-nightmare039s-downpour
those-who-have-free-seats-at-a-play-hiss-first
men-shall-clap-their-hands-at-him-and-shall-hiss-him-out-of-his-place
i-will-hiss-for-them-and-gather-them-for-i-have-redeemed-them-and-they-shall-increase-as-they-have-increased
never-boo-hiss-at-my-rallies-that-is-for-people-with-no-hope
dont-focus-on-her-hiss-remember-her-purr-donna-lynn-hope
the-populace-may-hiss-me-but-when-i-go-home-think-my-money-i-applaud-myself-horace
misery-is-river-tears-that-whispers-my-name-in-constant-hiss-richelle-e-goodrich
men-often-applaud-imitation-hiss-real-thing-aesop
her-quickness-mind-was-like-hiss-dart-lethal-bite-elena-ferrante
it-just-comes-down-to-taste-at-end-day-thats-something-you-cant-really-analyze-yeah-i-think-to-have-it-all-there-is-basically-best-regardless-whether-theres-hiss-there-as-well
also-edom-shall-be-a-desolation-every-one-that-goeth-by-it-shall-be-astonished-and-shall-hiss-at-all-the-plagues-thereof
people-hiss-at-me-but-i-applaud-myself-in-my-own-house-at-same-time-contemplate-money-in-my-chest-horace
and-i-will-make-this-city-desolate-and-an-hissing-every-one-that-passeth-thereby-shall-be-astonished-and-hiss-because-of-all-the-plagues-thereof
let-geesegabble-hiss-but-heroes-seek-releasefrom-dusty-bondage-into-luminous-air-edna-st-vincent-millay
the-sound-came-again-there-was-whistle-to-it-moan-it-was-almost-hiss-it-couldve-been-strangled-gasp-above-all-it-was-quiet-it-seemed-to-have-no-source-it-whispered-cherie-priest
so-id-been-captured-so-i-was-starving-did-that-mean-i-had-to-shrivel-up-die-i-could-still-slither-i-could-still-hiss-nothing-had-been-stolen-from-me-except-my-freedom-what-i-need
snow-gently-settles-like-dust-in-shaft-for-one-moment-there-is-no-one-else-only-wind-like-hiss-ice-skate-john-geddes
the-scream-twelveinch-shrapnel-is-more-penetrating-than-hiss-from-thousand-jewish-newspaper-vipers-therefore-let-them-go-on-with-their-hissing-adolf-hitler
snap-out-it-baby-people-are-jealous-you-they-smile-to-your-face-but-behind-your-back-they-hiss-whats-sweetheart-like-you-doin-in-dump-like-this-bob-dylan
the-hiss-was-now-becoming-roar-whole-world-was-vast-moving-screen-snow-but-even-now-it-said-peace-it-said-remoteness-it-said-cold-it-said-sleep-conrad-aiken
egypt-will-hiss-like-fleeing-serpent-as-enemy-advances-in-force-they-will-come-against-her-with-axes-like-men-who-cut-down-trees-jeremiah-4622
knowing-that-sex-city-chicks-now-rack-up-almost-two-centuries-between-them-why-do-some-us-fuss-hiss-about-bit-retouching-on-their-forthcoming-julie-burchill
what-is-important-is-moment-opening-life-feeling-it-touchwith-electric-hiss-crythis-speckled-mineral-sphere-our-present-world-annie-dillard
studying-cows-pigs-chickens-can-help-actor-develop-his-character-there-are-lot-things-i-learned-from-animals-one-was-that-they-couldnt-hiss-boo-james-dean
youre-every-song-i-have-ever-sung-ill-never-let-anything-hurt-you-again-for-first-time-in-my-life-my-dreams-arent-about-me-i-lifted-my-eyes-up-to-meet-hiss-he-smiled-theyre-about
i-dont-purchase-people-with-money-hiss-like-snake-to-attract-their-attention-all-i-do-is-to-rest-on-my-couch-because-i-have-conviction-that-no-human-can-progress-with-exception-w
he-let-out-hiss-pain-then-smiled-that-crooked-sheepish-smile-he-always-fell-back-on-when-he-was-caught-doing-something-bad-sorry-ii-didnt-mean-to-i-just-ive-been-lying-here-for-h
the-merchants-among-the-people-shall-hiss-at-thee-thou-shalt-be-a-terror-and-never-shalt-be-any-more
well-one-gets-out-of-bed-and-the-planets-dont-always-hiss-or-muck-up-the-day-each-day
because-conflictavoidant-emily-would-never-bite-even-hiss-unless-greg-had-done-something-truly-horrible-on-some-level-she-processes-his-bite-to-mean-that-shes-terribly-guilty-som
burning-small-dead-branches-broke-from-beneath-thick-spreading-whitebark-pine-a-hundred-summers-snowmelt-rock-air-hiss-in-twisted-bough-gary-snyder
populus-me-sibilat-at-mihi-plaudo-ipse-domi-stimul-ac-nummos-contemplar-in-arca-the-public-hiss-at-me-but-i-cheer-myself-when-in-my-own-house-i-arthur-conan-doyle
our-universe-might-have-slid-into-equilibrium-emitting-nothing-more-than-quiet-hiss-the-fact-that-it-spawned-such-plenitude-is-miracle-one-that-is-matched-only-by-your-universe-g
hairy-monkeyballs-i-hiss-dogshit-on-stick-puke-pancakes-a-head-pokes-in-wren-green-eyes-smiling-walks-over-to-my-bed-i-knew-you-were-awake-who-else-spews-such-original-captivatin
hello-companion-said-magnus-the-monkey-made-terrible-sound-half-snarl-half-hiss-i-begin-to-rather-doubt-beauty-our-friendship-said-magnus-cassandra-clare
democrats-hated-richard-nixon-no-wonder-it-was-nixon-who-sent-alger-hiss-to-jail-nixon-who-waged-vietnam-war-after-democrats-gave-up-david-frum
its-also-ironic-that-in-old-days-tape-tape-hiss-vinyl-records-surface-noise-we-were-always-trying-to-get-records-louder-louder-to-overcome-that
A figure held his daughter in the rocker. In the dim light he couldn't make out the features, but the sight of anyone he didn't know sitting in Wendy's rocker with their daughter was enough to scare the shit out of him. Judging by the shuddering movements of his daughter's body it had frightened her too, had caused her to mewl. He wanted to charge forward and reclaim his daughter, but he didn't know what would happen if he acted so quickly. What would he do if it hurt her? What would he do if it killed her? 'What-what do you want? I'll do anything just don't take my daughter. She's... all I have left.' The figure stopped rocking and slowly eased its way to its feet. There's not much light in the room but as it moved closer to the bed and it settled the baby in her crib, he saw just enough of her face in the moonlight. 'Wendy?' His voice is as full of horror as it is with awe. He can't help but be horrified at the sight of her now, the way that death has changed her, making her a terrible figure indeed. Her eyes are strange; some depth, some dark and terrible nothing has swallowed up all of her light, and in this first moment he swears he can feel the awful cold of that operating room coming off of her flesh. She is so small and so hard to look at, as if his mind can't quite focus on her form. Through the bars of the crib he can see her anger and hear the terrible, alien sound of her hiss. 'What do you want?' She doesn't answer him, staring cold and blank through those stark white bars, and then she was scrambling toward him across the floor, making him press flat against the wall to get away from her skittering shape.

Amanda M. Lyons
a-figure-held-his-daughter-in-rocker-in-dim-light-he-couldnt-make-out-features-but-sight-anyone-he-didnt-know-sitting-in-wendys-rocker-with-their-daughter-was-enough-to-scare-shi
And one cold Tuesday in December, when Marie-Laure has been blind for over a year, her father walks her up rue Cuvier to the edge of the Jardin des Plantes. "Here, ma cherie, is the path we take every morning. Through the cedars up ahead is the Grand Gallery." "I know, Papa." He picks her up and spins her around three times. "Now, " he says, "you're going to take us home." Her mouth drops open. "I want you to think of the model, Marie." "But I can't possibly!" "I'm one step behind you. I won't let anything happen. You have your cane. You know where you are." "I do not!" "You do." Exasperation. She cannot even say if the gardens are ahead or behind. "Calm yourself, Marie. One centimeter at a time." "I'm far, Papa. Six blocks, at least." "Six blocks is exactly right. Use logic. Which way should we go first?" The world pivots and rumbles. Crows shout, brakes hiss, someone to her left bangs something metal with what might be a hammer. She shuffles forward until the tip of her cane floats in space. The edge of a curb? A pond, a staircase, a cliff? She turns ninety degrees. Three steps forward. Now her cane finds the base of a wall. "Papa?" "I'm here." Six paces seven paces eight. A roar of noise - an exterminator just leaving a house, pump bellowing - overtakes them. Twelve paces farther on, the bell tied around the handle of a shop door rings, and two women came out, jostling her as they pass. Marie-Laure drops her cane; she begins to cry. Her father lifts her, holds her to his narrow chest. "It's so big, " she whispers. "You can do this, Marie." She cannot.

Anthony Doerr
and-one-cold-tuesday-in-december-when-marielaure-has-been-blind-for-over-year-her-father-walks-her-up-rue-cuvier-to-edge-jardin-des-plantes-here-ma-cherie-is-path-we-take-every-m
I used to have a cat, an old fighting tom, who sprang through the open window by my bed and pummeled my chest, barely sheathing his claws. I've been bloodied and mauled, wrung, dazzled, drawn. I taste salt on my lips in the early morning; I surprise my eyes in the mirror and they are ashes, or fiery sprouts, and I gape appalled or full of breath. The planet whirls along and dreaming. Power broods, spins, and lurches down. The planet and the power meet with a shock. They fuse and tumble, lightning, ground fire; they part, mute, submitting, and touch again with hiss and cry. The tree with the lights in it buzzes into flame and the cast-rock mountains ring. Emerson saw it. 'I dreamed that I floated at will in the great Ether, and I saw this world floating also not far off, but diminished to the size of an apple. Then an angel took it in his hand and brought it to me and said, 'This must thou eat.' And I ate the world.' All of it. All of it intricate, speckled, gnawed, fringed, and free. Israel's priests offered the wave breast and the heave shoulder together, freely, in full knowledge, for thanksgiving. They waved, they heaved, and neither gesture was whole without the other, and both meant a wide-eyed and keen-eyed thanks. Go your way, eat the fat, and drink the sweet, said the bell. A sixteenth-century alchemist wrote of the philosopher's stone, 'One finds it in the open country, in the village and in the town. It is in everything which God created. Maids throw it on the street. Children play with it.' The giant water bug ate the world. And like Billy Bray, I go my way, and my left foot says 'Glory,' and my right foot says 'Amen': in and out of Shadow Creek, upstream and down, exultant, in a daze, dancing, to the twin silver trumpets of praise.

Annie Dillard
i-used-to-have-cat-old-fighting-tom-who-sprang-through-open-window-by-my-bed-pummeled-my-chest-barely-sheathing-his-claws-ive-been-bloodied-mauled-wrung-dazzled-drawn-i-taste-sal
No institution of learning of Ingersoll's day had courage enough to confer upon him an honorary degree; not only for his own intellectual accomplishments, but also for his influence upon the minds of the learned men and women of his time and generation. Robert G. Ingersoll never received a prize for literature. The same prejudice and bigotry which prevented his getting an honorary college degree, militated against his being recognized as 'the greatest writer of the English language on the face of the earth, ' as Henry Ward Beecher characterized him. Aye, in all the history of literature, Robert G. Ingersoll has never been excelled - except by only one man, and that man was - William Shakespeare. And yet there are times when Ingersoll even surpassed the immortal Bard. Yes, there are times when Ingersoll excelled even Shakespeare, in expressing human emotions, and in the use of language to express a thought, or to paint a picture. I say this fully conscious of my own admiration for that 'intellectual ocean, whose waves touched all the shores of thought.' Ingersoll was perfection himself. Every word was properly used. Every sentence was perfectly formed. Every noun, every verb and every object was in its proper place. Every punctuation mark, every comma, every semicolon, and every period was expertly placed to separate and balance each sentence. To read Ingersoll, it seems that every idea came properly clothed from his brain. Something rare indeed in the history of man's use of language in the expression of his thoughts. Every thought came from his brain with all the beauty and perfection of the full blown rose, with the velvety petals delicately touching each other. Thoughts of diamonds and pearls, rubies and sapphires rolled off his tongue as if from an inexhaustible mine of precious stones. Just as the cut of the diamond reveals the splendor of its brilliance, so the words and construction of the sentences gave a charm and beauty and eloquence to Ingersoll's thoughts. Ingersoll had everything: The song of the skylark; the tenderness of the dove; the hiss of the snake; the bite of the tiger; the strength of the lion; and perhaps more significant was the fact that he used each of these qualities and attributes, in their proper place, and at their proper time. He knew when to embrace with the tenderness of affection, and to resist and denounce wickedness and tyranny with that power of denunciation which he, and he alone, knew how to express.

Joseph Lewis
no-institution-learning-ingersolls-day-had-courage-enough-to-confer-upon-him-honorary-degree-not-only-for-his-own-intellectual-accomplishments-but-also-for-his-influence-upon-min
While this is all very amusing, the kiss that will free the girl is the kiss that she most desires, ' she said. 'Only that and nothing more.' Jace's heart started to pound. He met the Queen's eyes with his own. 'Why are you doing this?' ... 'Desire is not always lessened by disgust... And as my words bind my magic, so you can know the truth. If she doesn't desire your kiss, she won't be free.' 'You don't have to do this, Clary, it's a trick-' (Simon)... Isabelle sounded exasperated. 'Who cares, anyway? It's just a kiss.' 'That's right, ' Jace said. Clary looked up, then finally, and her wide green eyes rested on him. He moved toward her... and put his hand on her shoulder, turning her to face him... He could feel the tension in his own body, the effort of holding back, of not pulling her against him and taking this one chance, however dangerous and stupid and unwise, and kissing her the way he had thought he would never, in his life, be able to kiss her again. 'It's just a kiss, ' he said, and heard the roughness in his own voice, and wondered if she heard it, too. Not that it mattered-there was no way to hide it. It was too much. He had never wanted like this before... She understood him, laughed when he laughed, saw through the defenses he put up to what was underneath. There was no Jace Wayland more real than the one he saw in her eyes when she looked at him... All he knew was that whatever he had to owe to Hell or Heaven for this chance, he was going to make it count. He... whispered in her ear. 'You can close your eyes and think of England, if you like, ' he said. Her eyes fluttered shut, her lashes coppery lines against her pale, fragile skin. 'I've never even been to England, ' she said, and the softness, the anxiety in her voice almost undid him. He had never kissed a girl without knowing she wanted it too, usually more than he did, and this was Clary, and he didn't know what she wanted. Her eyes were still closed, but she shivered, and leaned into him - barely, but it was permission enough. His mouth came down on hers. And that was it. All the self-control he'd exerted over the past weeks went, like water crashing through a broken dam. Her arms came up around his neck and he pulled her against him... His hands flattened against her back... and she was up on the tips of her toes, kissing him as fiercely as he was kissing her... He clung to her more tightly, knotting his hands in her hair, trying to tell her, with the press of his mouth on hers, all the things he could never say out loud... His hands slid down to her waist... he had no idea what he would have done or said next, if it would have been something he could never have pretended away or taken back, but he heard a soft hiss of laughter - the Faerie Queen - in his ears, and it jolted him back to reality. He pulled away from Clary before he it was too late, unlocking her hands from around his neck and stepping back... Clary was staring at him. Her lips were parted, her hands still open. Her eyes were wide. Behind her, Alec and Isabelle were gaping at them; Simon looked as if he was about to throw up... If there had ever been any hope that he could have come to think of Clary as just his sister, this - what had just happened between them - had exploded it into a thousand pieces... He tried to read Clary's face - did she feel the same? ... I know you felt it, he said to her with his eyes, and it was half bitter triumph and half pleading. I know you felt it, too... She glanced away from him... He whirled on the Queen. 'Was that good enough?' he demanded. 'Did that entertain you?' The Queen gave him a look: special and secretive and shared between the two of them. 'We are quite entertained, " she said. 'But not, I think, so much as the both of you.

Cassandra Clare
while-this-is-all-amusing-kiss-that-will-free-girl-is-kiss-that-she-most-desires-she-said-only-that-nothing-more-jaces-heart-started-to-pound-he-met-queens-eyes-with-his-own-why-
Jenks and I stood there like statues watching him twitch, his eyes rolling up in his head. He clutched at his clothes pulling the wooden pole they hung from down on top of him. Slowly his right hand came scrambling out away from his body to clutch at my left leg. Without thinking I shoved my crucifix at him and he pulled his hand back with a hiss, shielding his face again. As quickly as I could, I dug my tubes of Holy Water out of my coat pocket and emptied them on his head. He shrieked again and clawed at his face. Jenks followed suit, pouring his two vials on Skorzeny's body and legs. Skorzeny started to foam and bubble before our eyes. I was paralyzed. I couldn't quite believe what was happening. Those books hadn't described any of this. I was feeling dizzy and sick. The shrieks turned to groans and a gurgling deep in his throat. He pulled his hands away from his face and it looked like the disintegrating Portrait of Dorian Gray. I looked over to Jenks who had an odd expression on his face. I looked over to Jenks who had on odd expression on his face. He motioned to me and reached for my left hand which, I noticed, was still clutching the airline hag with the stake and hammer in it. I dropped it and he grabbed it off the floor, moving over to the smoking form still squirming in the closet which smelled even more foul than before, and oozing a greenish yellow pus from the crumpled clothing on his scarecrow frame. Jenks looked back at me and handed me the stake and hammer. 'Go ahead. This was your idea. Finish it.' I declined, turning away. Jenks spun me around violently and thrust the stake into my left hand. He pushed me toward what was left of Skorzeny and forced me to my knees. He forced my hand toward Skorzeny, positioning the stake over the man's chest. Then he stuck the hammer in my right hand. 'Do it, you gutless sonofabitch. Finish it... now!' And he stepped away. I looked at him and back at Skorzeny. Then I gave one vicious swing and hit the stake dead center. The thing made a gurgling grunt, like a pig snuffling for food, and started to regurgitate a blackish fluid from its mouth. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and hit the stake three more times. Then I fell back and threw up. When I looked back, Skorzeny's hands, or what was left of them, clutched at the stake trying to pull it out. Suddenly, he emitted a kind of moaning, sucking sound, gagged and more bile-colored liquid flecked with black and red came coiling up in a viscous rope like some evil worm from his mouth. And he stopped moving, his hands still clutching the stake. Then a sort of gaseous mist started to rise from his body and it was so much worse than the original smell that I pushed Jenks aside and ran from the house. I ran all the way to a patrol car where I slumped against the left front wheel as Jenks slowly strolled toward me. He walked past me, ignoring me, and opened his trunk, taking out a couple of small gas cans, and headed back to the house. I wasn't paying much attention until he left the house again and I saw it was aflame.

Jeff Rice
jenks-i-stood-there-like-statues-watching-him-twitch-his-eyes-rolling-up-in-his-head-he-clutched-at-his-clothes-pulling-wooden-pole-they-hung-from-down-on-top-him-slowly-his-righ
Honest to God, I hadn't meant to start a bar fight. 'So. You're the famous Jordan Amador.' The demon sitting in front of me looked like someone filled a pig bladder with rotten cottage cheese. He overflowed the bar stool with his gelatinous stomach, just barely contained by a white dress shirt and an oversized leather jacket. Acid-washed jeans clung to his stumpy legs and his boots were at least twice the size of mine. His beady black eyes started at my ankles and dragged upward, past my dark jeans, across my black turtleneck sweater, and over the grey duster around me that was two sizes too big. He finally met my gaze and snorted before continuing. 'I was expecting something different. Certainly not a black girl. What's with the name, girlie?' I shrugged. 'My mother was a religious woman.' 'Clearly, ' the demon said, tucking a fat cigar in one corner of his mouth. He stood up and walked over to the pool table beside him where he and five of his lackeys had gathered. Each of them was over six feet tall and were all muscle where he was all fat. 'I could start to examine the literary significance of your name, or I could ask what the hell you're doing in my bar, ' he said after knocking one of the balls into the left corner pocket. 'Just here to ask a question, that's all. I don't want trouble.' Again, he snorted, but this time smoke shot from his nostrils, which made him look like an albino dragon. 'My ass you don't. This place is for fallen angels only, sweetheart. And we know your reputation.' I held up my hands in supplication. 'Honest Abe. Just one question and I'm out of your hair forever.' My gaze lifted to the bald spot at the top of his head surrounded by peroxide blonde locks. 'What's left of it, anyway.' He glared at me. I smiled, batting my eyelashes. He tapped his fingers against the pool cue and then shrugged one shoulder. 'Fine. What's your question?' 'Know anybody by the name of Matthias Gruber?' He didn't even blink. 'No.' 'Ah. I see. Sorry to have wasted your time.' I turned around, walking back through the bar. I kept a quick, confident stride as I went, ignoring the whispers of the fallen angels in my wake. A couple called out to me, asking if I'd let them have a taste, but I didn't spare them a glance. Instead, I headed to the ladies' room. Thankfully, it was empty, so I whipped out my phone and dialed the first number in my Recent Call list. 'Hey. He's here. Yeah, I'm sure it's him. They're lousy liars when they're drunk. Uh-huh. Okay, see you in five.' I hung up and let out a slow breath. Only a couple things left to do. I gathered my shoulder-length black hair into a high ponytail. I looped the loose curls around into a messy bun and made sure they wouldn't tumble free if I shook my head too hard. I took the leather gloves in the pocket of my duster out and pulled them on. Then, I walked out of the bathroom and back to the front entrance. The coat-check girl gave me a second unfriendly look as I returned with my ticket stub to retrieve my things-three vials of holy water, a black rosary with the beads made of onyx and the cross made of wood, a Smith and Wesson.9mm Glock complete with a full magazine of blessed bullets and a silencer, and a worn out page of the Bible. I held out my hands for the items and she dropped them on the counter with an unapologetic, 'Oops.' 'Thanks, ' I said with a roll of my eyes. I put the Glock back in the hip holster at my side and tucked the rest of the items in the pockets of my duster. The brunette demon crossed her arms under her hilariously oversized fake breasts and sent me a vicious sneer. 'The door is that way, Seer. Don't let it hit you on the way out.' I smiled back. 'God bless you.' She let out an ugly hiss between her pearly white teeth. I blew her a kiss and walked out the door. The parking lot was packed outside now that it was half-past midnight. Demons thrived in darkness, so I wasn't surprised. In fact, I'd been counting on it.

Kyoko M.
honest-to-god-i-hadnt-meant-to-start-bar-fight-so-youre-famous-jordan-amador-the-demon-sitting-in-front-me-looked-like-someone-filled-pig-bladder-with-rotten-cottage-cheese-he-ov
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