Puddles 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
every-path-has-its-puddles
love-i-may-have-stepped-into-few-puddles-but-not-long-enough-to-drown-in-them-evelyn-leilou-colon
we-may-not-be-able-to-prevent-the-stormy-times-in-our-lives-but-we-can-always-dance-in-the-puddles
every-journey-we-take-requires-good-pair-wellingtons-because-there-are-some-thorns-puddles-along-way-euginia-herlihy
falling-in-love-is-like-seeing-ocean-for-first-time-when-all-your-life-youve-been-stepping-in-puddles-rina-nath
a-man-gazing-on-stars-is-proverbially-at-mercy-puddles-in-road
a-man-gazing-at-stars-is-proverbially-at-mercy-puddles-in-road-alexander-smith
love-must-face-reality-if-it-is-to-survive-jumping-in-puddles-life-loretta-livingstone
there-comes-a-time-when-you-have-to-stop-crossing-oceans-for-people-who-wont-jump-puddles-for-you
i-am-your-stone-necessity-calling-up-spirits-from-rain-puddlesyour-magus-words-john-geddes
there-comes-a-time-when-you-have-to-stop-crossing-oceans-for-people-who-wouldnt-even-jump-in-puddles-for-you
yeah-i-watched-power-huddles-and-their-coats-draped-over-puddles-and-their-trust-me-baby-im-one-you-need-dar-williams
cats-are-puddles-cuteness-i-stepped-in-one-other-day-that-was-muddy-i-not-only-had-to-pet-it-but-cuddle-with-it-for-hours-jarod-kintz
ah-yes-great-victory-this-sport-i-am-sure-el-toro-appreciates-applause-jumping-in-puddles-life-loretta-livingstone
if-youre-walkin-home-beside-her-and-you-know-what-time-it-is-and-if-you-avoid-puddles-in-your-way-you-havent-been-there-either-to-land-that-lies-genesis
the-minds-small-children-are-more-interested-in-clockwork-trains-jumping-in-puddles-other-important-childhood-endeavours-maxwell-grantly
life-is-beautiful-journey-regardless-its-occasional-hurdles-puddles-the-key-is-to-focus-your-frequent-thoughts-on-your-blessings-opportunities-possibilities-over-your-adversities
kitty-waved-her-free-hand-to-show-that-she-was-ok-although-she-was-tempted-to-stand-over-one-adams-windowwashing-puddles-pretend-her-waters-had-broken-just-to-see-what-he-would-d
but-he-remembered-memories-walkin-through-puddles-sayin-gee-dad-am-i-one-whos-wanted-by-the-federal-government-doesnt-want-me-to-go-to-school-i-ask-spearhead
if-they-projected-fact-that-they-are-dangerous-any-harder-there-would-be-little-puddles-danger-on-floor-around-them-look-its-danger-dont-step-in-it-mercedes-lackey
we-cannot-protect-ourselves-from-trouble-but-we-can-dance-through-puddles-life-with-rainbow-smile-twirling-only-umbrella-we-need-umbrella-gods-barbara-johnson
clouds-shed-agony-sky-rain-concludes-it-by-covering-us-in-filth-what-do-you-think-about-puddles-mud-traffic-jams-i-hate-rain-pushpa-rana
heaven-opened-water-hammered-down-reviving-reluctant-old-well-greenmossing-pigless-pigsty-carpet-bombing-still-teacolored-puddles-way-memory-arundhati-roy
she-tries-to-maintain-nondescript-exterior-she-learns-sideways-glance-instead-looking-at-people-directly-she-speaks-in-practised-precise-sentences-that-she-is-not-misunderstood-s
when-i-was-small-i-never-wanted-to-step-in-puddles-not-because-any-fear-drowned-worms-wet-stockings-i-was-by-large-grubby-child-with-blissful-disregard-for-filth-any-kind-it-was-
Things I Used to Get Hit For: Talking back. Being smart. Acting stupid. Not listening. Not answering the first time. Not doing what I'm told. Not doing it the second time I'm told. Running, jumping, yelling, laughing, falling down, skipping stairs, lying in the snow, rolling in the grass, playing in the dirt, walking in mud, not wiping my feet, not taking my shoes off. Sliding down the banister, acting like a wild Indian in the hallway. Making a mess and leaving it. Pissing my pants, just a little. Peeing the bed, hardly at all. Sleeping with a butter knife under my pillow. Shitting the bed because I was sick and it just ran out of me, but still my fault because I'm old enough to know better. Saying shit instead of crap or poop or number two. Not knowing better. Knowing something and doing it wrong anyway. Lying. Not confessing the truth even when I don't know it. Telling white lies, even little ones, because fibbing isn't fooling and not the least bit funny. Laughing at anything that's not funny, especially cripples and retards. Covering up my white lies with more lies, black lies. Not coming the exact second I'm called. Getting out of bed too early, sometimes before the birds, and turning on the TV, which is one reason the picture tube died. Wearing out the cheap plastic hole on the channel selector by turning it so fast it sounds like a machine gun. Playing flip-and-catch with the TV's volume button then losing it down the hole next to the radiator pipe. Vomiting. Gagging like I'm going to vomit. Saying puke instead of vomit. Throwing up anyplace but in the toilet or in a designated throw-up bucket. Using scissors on my hair. Cutting Kelly's doll's hair really short. Pinching Kelly. Punching Kelly even though she kicked me first. Tickling her too hard. Taking food without asking. Eating sugar from the sugar bowl. Not sharing. Not remembering to say please and thank you. Mumbling like an idiot. Using the emergency flashlight to read a comic book in bed because batteries don't grow on trees. Splashing in puddles, even the puddles I don't see until it's too late. Giving my mother's good rhinestone earrings to the teacher for Valentine's Day. Splashing in the bathtub and getting the floor wet. Using the good towels. Leaving the good towels on the floor, though sometimes they fall all by themselves. Eating crackers in bed. Staining my shirt, tearing the knee in my pants, ruining my good clothes. Not changing into old clothes that don't fit the minute I get home. Wasting food. Not eating everything on my plate. Hiding lumpy mashed potatoes and butternut squash and rubbery string beans or any food I don't like under the vinyl seat cushions Mom bought for the wooden kitchen chairs. Leaving the butter dish out in summer and ruining the tablecloth. Making bubbles in my milk. Using a straw like a pee shooter. Throwing tooth picks at my sister. Wasting toothpicks and glue making junky little things that no one wants. School papers. Notes from the teacher. Report cards. Whispering in church. Sleeping in church. Notes from the assistant principal. Being late for anything. Walking out of Woolworth's eating a candy bar I didn't pay for. Riding my bike in the street. Leaving my bike out in the rain. Getting my bike stolen while visiting Grandpa Rudy at the hospital because I didn't put a lock on it. Not washing my feet. Spitting. Getting a nosebleed in church. Embarrassing my mother in any way, anywhere, anytime, especially in public. Being a jerk. Acting shy. Being impolite. Forgetting what good manners are for. Being alive in all the wrong places with all the wrong people at all the wrong times.

Bob Thurber
things-i-used-to-get-hit-for-talking-back-being-smart-acting-stupid-not-listening-not-answering-first-time-not-doing-what-im-told-not-doing-it-second-time-im-told-running-jumping
Halfway home, the sky goes from dark gray to almost black and a loud thunder snap accompanies the first few raindrops that fall. Heavy, warm, big drops, they drench me in seconds, like an overturned bucket from the sky dumping just on my head. I reach my hands up and out, as if that can stop my getting wetter, and open my mouth, trying to swallow the downpour, till it finally hits me how funny it is, my trying to stop the rain. This is so funny to me, I laugh and laugh, as loud and free as I want. Instead of hurrying to higher ground, I jump lower, down off the curb, splashing through the puddles, playing and laughing all the way home. In all my life till now, rain has meant staying inside and not being able to go out to play. But now for the first time I realize that rain doesn't have to be bad. And what's more, I understand, sadness doesn't have to be bad, either. Come to think of it, I figure you need sadness, just as you need the rain. Thoughts and ideas pour through my awareness. It feels to me that happiness is almost scary, like how I imagine being drunk might feel - real silly and not caring what anybody else says. Plus, that happy feeling always leaves so fast, and you know it's going to go before it even does. Sadness lasts longer, making it more familiar, and more comfortable. But maybe, I wonder, there's a way to find some happiness in the sadness. After all, it's like the rain, something you can't avoid. And so, it seems to me, if you're caught in it, you might as well try to make the best of it. Getting caught in the warm, wet deluge that particular day in that terrible summer full of wars and fires that made no sense was a wonderful thing to have happen. It taught me to understand rain, not to dread it. There were going to be days, I knew, when it would pour without warning, days when I'd find myself without an umbrella. But my understanding would act as my all-purpose slicker and rubber boots. It was preparing me for stormy weather, arming me with the knowledge that no matter how hard it seemed, it couldn't rain forever. At some point, I knew, it would come to an end.

Antwone Quenton Fisher
halfway-home-sky-goes-from-dark-gray-to-almost-black-loud-thunder-snap-accompanies-first-few-raindrops-that-fall-heavy-warm-big-drops-they-drench-me-in-seconds-like-overturned-bu
I want you to tell me about every person you've ever been in love with. Tell me why you loved them, then tell me why they loved you. Tell me about a day in your life you didn't think you'd live through. Tell me what the word home means to you and tell me in a way that I'll know your mother's name just by the way you describe your bedroom when you were eight. See, I want to know the first time you felt the weight of hate, and if that day still trembles beneath your bones. Do you prefer to play in puddles of rain or bounce in the bellies of snow? And if you were to build a snowman, would you rip two branches from a tree to build your snowman arms or would leave your snowman armless for the sake of being harmless to the tree? And if you would, would you notice how that tree weeps for you because your snowman has no arms to hug you every time you kiss him on the cheek? Do you kiss your friends on the cheek? Do you sleep beside them when they're sad even if it makes your lover mad? Do you think that anger is a sincere emotion or just the timid motion of a fragile heart trying to beat away its pain? See, I wanna know what you think of your first name, and if you often lie awake at night and imagine your mother's joy when she spoke it for the very first time. I want you to tell me all the ways you've been unkind. Tell me all the ways you've been cruel. Tell me, knowing I often picture Gandhi at ten years old beating up little boys at school. If you were walking by a chemical plant where smokestacks were filling the sky with dark black clouds would you holler 'Poison! Poison! Poison!' really loud or would you whisper 'That cloud looks like a fish, and that cloud looks like a fairy!' Do you believe that Mary was really a virgin? Do you believe that Moses really parted the sea? And if you don't believe in miracles, tell me - how would you explain the miracle of my life to me? See, I wanna know if you believe in any god or if you believe in many gods or better yet what gods believe in you. And for all the times that you've knelt before the temple of yourself, have the prayers you asked come true? And if they didn't, did you feel denied? And if you felt denied, denied by who? I wanna know what you see when you look in the mirror on a day you're feeling good. I wanna know what you see when you look in the mirror on a day you're feeling bad. I wanna know the first person who taught you your beauty could ever be reflected on a lousy piece of glass. If you ever reach enlightenment will you remember how to laugh? Have you ever been a song? Would you think less of me if I told you I've lived my entire life a little off-key? And I'm not nearly as smart as my poetry I just plagiarize the thoughts of the people around me who have learned the wisdom of silence. Do you believe that concrete perpetuates violence? And if you do - I want you to tell me of a meadow where my skateboard will soar. See, I wanna know more than what you do for a living. I wanna know how much of your life you spend just giving, and if you love yourself enough to also receive sometimes. I wanna know if you bleed sometimes from other people's wounds, and if you dream sometimes that this life is just a balloon - that if you wanted to, you could pop, but you never would 'cause you'd never want it to stop. If a tree fell in the forest and you were the only one there to hear - if its fall to the ground didn't make a sound, would you panic in fear that you didn't exist, or would you bask in the bliss of your nothingness? And lastly, let me ask you this: If you and I went for a walk and the entire walk, we didn't talk - do you think eventually, we'd... kiss? No, wait. That's asking too much - after all, this is only our first date.

Andrea Gibson
i-want-you-to-tell-me-about-every-person-youve-ever-been-in-love-with-tell-me-why-you-loved-them-then-tell-me-why-they-loved-you-tell-me-about-day-in-your-life-you-didnt-think-yo
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