Khaki 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
american-soldiers-wore-khaki-uniforms-during-world-war-ii-mens-khaki-trousers-became-fashionable-after-war-as-homecoming-gis-decided-to-continue-wearing-soft-comfortable-pants-in
i-like-gap-ad-khaki-one-i-liked-that
i-wear-frayed-khaki-pants
my-style-is-definitely-not-ladylike-frills-bows-kinda-scare-me-but-i-like-military-look-because-i-love-that-olive-green-khaki-color-cameron-russell
i-got-letter-from-lbj-it-said-this-is-your-lucky-day-its-time-to-put-your-khaki-trousers-on-though-it-may-seem-queer-weve-got-no-jobs-to-give-you-paxton-tom
Want a sandwich?' Mac shook her head. 'I'm going to have dinner with Gage when he gets home.' Who said anything about dinner? This was more like an appetizer. That was another perk that came with being a werewolf. She could eat whatever she wanted and not have to worry about extra calories ending up where they shouldn't. Khaki set everything on the counter. 'I asked Xander flat-out when I went over to his place last night. He insisted he liked me just fine, but I knew he was lying. I could tell he was really uncomfortable around me. He was tense and on edge the whole time. Which is nothing new. He's like that all the time around me. I think he finds me irritating and a nuisance.' Mac gave her a dubious look. 'If you say so. But either way, you'd better be careful. If being with Gage has taught me anything, it's that werewolves are extremely affected by certain pheromones. If you go walking around lusting over Xander, he's going to pick up on it- and so is every other guy on the team. Then things will get really complicated. I learned that the hard way. Those guys can pick up on arousal like it's barbecue and they aren't shy about letting you know it.' Khaki groaned as she grabbed a plate from the cabinet. 'Oh, God. I never thought about that.' 'Yeah. And it gets worse.' Mac shook her head. 'If I'm even slightly aroused and Gage picks up on it, he gets crazy horny- like he-can't-control-it horny. What do you think is going to happen to if all the guys on the team pick up on the fact that the one and only female werewolf on the team is aroused? You'll find yourself getting chased by fifteen out-of-control, horny werewolves going crazy with lust. And while there are some women who might find that entertaining, something tells me you wouldn't.' Khaki set the plate on the counter with a thud. 'Oh, crap. What the hell am I going to do?' Mac offered her a small smile. 'Take a lot of baths?

Paige Tyler
want-sandwich-mac-shook-her-head-im-going-to-have-dinner-with-gage-when-he-gets-home-who-said-anything-about-dinner-this-was-more-like-appetizer-that-was-another-perk-that-came-w
but-it-is-my-total-conviction-that-all-trappings-good-leadership-are-generic-widely-applicable-whether-you-are-standing-in-khaki-queue-with-your-peter-cosgrove
generally-its-not-good-idea-to-wear-banana-republic-type-khaki-journalist-clothes-in-war-zone-you-might-look-too-much-like-something-thats-supposed-p-j-orourke
seersucker-khaki-suits-are-key-to-looking-put-together-in-summer-i-also-wear-shorts-year-round-and-i-would-never-say-never-but-i-dont-wear-sandals-with-shorts-its-wing-tips-tenni
He was just a small church parson when the war broke out, and he Looked and dressed and acted like all parsons that we see. He wore the cleric's broadcloth and he hooked his vest behind. But he had a man's religion and he had a stong man's mind. And he heard the call to duty, and he quit his church and went. And he bravely tramped right with 'em every- where the boys were sent. He put aside his broadcloth and he put the khaki on; Said he'd come to be a soldier and was going to live like one. Then he'd refereed the prize fights that the boys pulled off at night, And if no one else was handy he'd put on the gloves and fight. He wasn't there a fortnight ere he saw the sol- diers' needs, And he said: "I'm done with preaching; this is now the time for deeds." He learned the sound of shrapnel, he could tell the size of shell From the shriek it make above him, and he knew just where it fell. In the front line trench he laboured, and he knew the feel of mud, And he didn't run from danger and he wasn't scared of blood. He wrote letters for the wounded, and he cheered them with his jokes, And he never made a visit without passing round the smokes. Then one day a bullet got him, as he knelt be- side a lad Who was "going west" right speedy, and they both seemed mighty glad, 'Cause he held the boy's hand tighter, and he smiled and whispered low, "Now you needn't fear the journey; over there with you I'll go." And they both passed out together, arm in arm I think they went. He had kept his vow to follow everywhere the boys were sent.

Edgar A. Guest
he-was-just-small-church-parson-when-war-broke-out-he-looked-dressed-acted-like-all-parsons-that-we-see-he-wore-clerics-broadcloth-he-hooked-his-vest-behind-but-he-had-mans-relig
charlotte-was-used-to-all-marks-war-shabbiness-things-bad-food-shop-queues-posters-about-war-effort-people-with-worried-faces-people-dressed-in-black-she-was-used-to-seeing-wound
A weathered black and silver Dodge pickup towing a small motorboat pulled up behind us, and Alex circled back to greet the driver. I couldn't see who sat behind the crusted and dirty windshield, but Alex stood at the driver's window and pointed down the block where the boulevard disappeared into floodwater. The truck pulled ahead, maneuvered a deft U-turn, and backed toward the water. Alex motioned for me to follow. By the time I lurched my way to the truck, he and the pickup driver were sliding the boat down the trailer ramp. Sweat trickled down my neck, and if I hadn't been afraid of being poisoned by toxic sludge, I'd have made like a pig and wallowed in the mud to cool off. I kicked at a fire hydrant, trying to jolt some of the heaviest sludge off my boots, and heard a soft laugh behind me. With a final kick that sent a spray of brown gunk flying, I turned to see what was so funny. I needed a laugh. A man leaned against the side of the pickup with his arms crossed. He was a few inches shorter than Alex, maybe just shy of six feet, with sun-streaked blond hair that reached his collar and a sleeveless blue T-shirt and khaki shorts. His tanned legs between the bottom of the shorts and the top of sturdy black shrimp boots were scored with scars, bad ones, as if whatever made them meant to do serious damage. He'd been grinning when I turned around, flashing a heart-stopping set of dimples, but when he saw my eyes linger on his legs, the grin eased into something more wary.

Suzanne Johnson
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The car came opposite her, and she curtsied so low that recovery was impossible, and she sat down in the road. Her parasol flew out of her hand and out of her parasol flew the Union Jack. She saw a young man looking out of the window, dressed in khaki, grinning broadly, but not, so she thought, graciously, and it suddenly struck her that there was something, beside her own part in the affair, which was not as it should be. As he put his head in again there was loud laughter from the inside of the car. Mr. Wootten helped her up and the entire assembly of her friends crowded round her, hoping she was not hurt. "No, dear Major, dear Padre, not at all, thanks, " she said. "So stupid: my ankle turned. Oh, yes, the Union Jack I bought for my nephew, it's his birthday to-morrow. Thank you. I just came to see about my coke: of course I thought the Prince had arrived when you all went down to meet the 4.15. Fancy my running straight into it all! How well he looked." This was all rather lame, and Miss Mapp hailed Mrs. Poppit's appearance from the station as a welcome diversion... Mrs. Poppit was looking vexed. "I hope you saw him well, Mrs. Poppit, " said Miss Mapp, "after meeting two trains, and taking all that trouble." "Saw who?" said Mrs. Poppit with a deplorable lack both of manner and grammar. "Why"-light seemed to break on her odious countenance. "Why, you don't think that was the Prince, do you, Miss Mapp? He arrived here at one, so the station-master has just told me, and has been playing golf all afternoon." The Major looked at the Captain, and the Captain at the Major. It was months and months since they had missed their Saturday afternoon's golf. "It was the Prince of Wales who looked out of that car-window, " said Miss Mapp firmly. "Such a pleasant smile. I should know it anywhere." "The young man who got into the car at the station was no more the Prince of Wales than you are, " said Mrs. Poppit shrilly. "I was close to him as he came out: I curtsied to him before I saw." Miss Mapp instantly changed her attack: she could hardly hold her smile on to her face for rage. "How very awkward for you, " she said. "What a laugh they will all have over it this evening! Delicious!" Mrs. Poppit's face suddenly took on an expression of the tenderest solicitude. "I hope, Miss Mapp, you didn't jar yourself when you sat down in the road just now, " she said. "Not at all, thank you so much, " said Miss Mapp, hearing her heart beat in her throat...

E.F. Benson
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There was just enough room for the tonga to get through among the bullock-carts, rickshaws, cycles and pedestrians who thronged both the road and the pavement-which they shared with barbers plying their trade out of doors, fortune-tellers, flimsy tea-stalls, vegetable-stands, monkey-trainers, ear-cleaners, pickpockets, stray cattle, the odd sleepy policeman sauntering along in faded khaki, sweat-soaked men carrying impossible loads of copper, steel rods, glass or scrap paper on their backs as they yelled 'Look out! Look out!' in voices that somehow pierced though the din, shops of brassware and cloth (the owners attempting with shouts and gestures to entice uncertain shoppers in), the small carved stone entrance of the Tinny Tots (English Medium) School which opened out onto the courtyard of the reconverted haveli of a bankrupt aristocrat, and beggars-young and old, aggressive and meek, leprous, maimed or blinded-who would quietly invade Nabiganj as evening fell, attempting to avoid the police as they worked the queues in front of the cinema-halls. Crows cawed, small boys in rags rushed around on errands (one balancing six small dirty glasses of tea on a cheap tin tray as he weaved through the crowd) monkeys chattered in and bounded about a great shivering-leafed pipal tree and tried to raid unwary customers as they left the well-guarded fruit-stand, women shuffled along in anonymous burqas or bright saris, with or without their menfolk, a few students from the university lounging around a chaat-stand shouted at each other from a foot away either out of habit or in order to be heard, mangy dogs snapped and were kicked, skeletal cats mewed and were stoned, and flies settled everywhere: on heaps of foetid, rotting rubbish, on the uncovered sweets at the sweetseller's in whose huge curved pans of ghee sizzled delicioius jalebis, on the faces of the sari-clad but not the burqa-clad women, and on the horse's nostrils as he shook his blinkered head and tried to forge his way through Old Brahmpur in the direction of the Barsaat Mahal.

Vikram Seth
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