That's the real excellent scary part, that feeling, and that feeling won't come if the lady from next door is there and your mom won't ride the ride, because what brings on that feeling most is when your mom rides wedged in tight with you and your brother on nights like this, when your mom will scream the excellent scream, the scream that people you see in snatches on the boardwalk stop and stare for, the scream that stops the ride next door, the scream that tells us to our hearts the bolts have finally broken.
I've always felt that I shouldn't scream on the air...I just feel there's a way of rising enthusiastically if there's an exciting play, but you don't have to scream. There are people who do shout, and I think that's unnecessary. You have to be under control at all times, no matter what's taking place. Enthusiasm and excitement can be expressed without going berserk.
If you heard your lover scream in the next room and you ran in and saw his pinkie on the floor, in a small puddle of blood. You wouldn't rush to the pinkie and say, 'Darling, are you OK? ' No, you'd wrap your arms around his shoulders and worry about the pinkie later. The same holds true if you heard the scream, ran in and saw his hand or -god forbid- his whole arm. But suppose you hear your lover scream in the next room, and you run in and his head is on the floor next to his body. Which do you rush to and comfort first?
They say I am a brave girl I'm a hailstorm for the rain I'm a volcano for the mountain I'm a diamond for the stone And I wonder if I can be real me. I see the crowd I hear the noise I keep my patience. But inside I want to scream Yes I want to scream like hell. And when she call me on phone, I wonder how she knows it. I wonder how she hears those silent words.. How she sees those forbidden tears... I wonder how she knows I am missing somewhere...
They say I am a brave girl I'm a hailstorm for the rain I'm a volcano for the mountain I'm a diamond for the stone And I wonder if I can be real me. I see the crowd I hear the noice I keep my patience. But inside I want to scream Yes I want to scream like hell. And when she call me on phone, I wonder how she knows it. I wonder how she hears those silent words.. How she sees those forbidden tears... I wonder how she knows I am missing somewhere...
NOOOO!" On the screen, a woman's eyes bugged almost out of her head, and I tried not to scream. Tried not to scream in exasperation, I mean. The serial killer was right in front of her, wide open! Clearly, instead of weeping like a moron, she could be lunging forward and administering a swift uppercut to the chin. Then this entire pointless ordeal would be over with, and I could go home.
If there's no fire, there's no scream. If there's no scream, then no one hears you and no one comes to help you in the first place. The depth of my struggle has definitely determined the height of my success. To be able to teach my kids not just about success but about the struggle that comes with it.
Language just gradually came in, one or two stressed words a time. Before then, I would just scream. I couldn't talk. I couldn't get my words out. So the only way I could tell someone what I wanted was to scream. If I didn't want to wear a hat, the only way I knew to communicate was screaming and throwing it on the floor.
When I was 12 years old, I was just horrible. My parents were ashamed to watch my matches. I would play on a court at the local club and they would watch from the balcony. They would scream, 'Be quiet' to me and I would scream back, 'Go and have a drink. Leave me alone.' Then we would drive home in a very quiet car. No one speaking to each other.
Those are the only to verbalizations usually that we make in movies-either to scream or to laugh-because those two reactions are rather close. Most things we laugh at are things that are really horrible, when you think about them. It's funny and you don't scream, as long as it's not you. If it's somebody else you can laugh.
No one can make you 'better' emotionally, mentally, spiritually or physically. You have to find this for yourself. You have to taste that brutal moment when you're crying in a corner of the room, curled up on the floor and you think this is your end. You have to fight to stand up, literally. And you have to walk over to your reflection and scream, scream it all out. Then you have pick up your sword and fight and never quit. This is your life. Don't let those bastards win.
Because I take very seriously the idea that I can make an impact in the world, I hold back my voice so I can make more of an impact when I do use it. A cause like One Billion Rising is something I want to scream about, and I want you to take that scream seriously because I don't fall out of nightclubs. I don't have photographers capture me spending untold amounts on a handbag.
Are you all right?' he asked Olivia. His heart was still racing with terror that she'd been hurt. 'I heard a woman scream.' 'Ah, that would have been me, ' Sebastian said. Harry looked down on his cousin, face frozen in disbelief. 'You made that noise?' 'It hurt, ' Sebastian bit off. Harry fought not to laugh. 'You scream like a leettle girl.
Are you all right?" he asked Olivia. His heart was still racing with terror that she'd been hurt. "I heard a woman scream." "Ah, that would have been me," Sebastian said. Harry looked down on his cousin, face frozen in disbelief. "You made that noise?" "It hurt," Sebastian bit off. Harry fought not to laugh. "You scream like a leettle girl.
My painting is not violent, it's life that is violent. Even within the most beautiful landscape, in the trees, under the leaves, the insects are eating each other; violence is a part of life. We are born with a scream; we come into life with a scream and maybe love is a mosquito net between the fear of living and the fear of death.
Screaming. Did I mention the screaming? Screaming is usually associated with horror films and roller coasters. This is why I usually look like I've just watched a horror film on a rollercoaster. Kids love to scream. Frightened, happy, bored. They scream. I've actually learned to love the sound of a vacuum cleaner. It's just so peaceful.
In this land I have made myself sick with silence In this land I have wandered, lost In this land I hunkered down to see What will become of me. In this land I held myself tight So as not to scream. -But I did scream, so loud That this land howled back at me As hideously As it builds its houses. In this land I have been sown Only my head sticks Defiant, out of the earth But one day it too will be mown Making me, finally Of this land. -Charlie's poem
I wondered if I'd ever get over the pain of it. It hurt so much I wanted to scream. But I didn't scream. What I feel now is that the pain is still there but it isn't keeping me from walking or talking, it's a feeling of complete helplessness and absurdity. So that's what it's like? All of a sudden all possibility just vanishes? A life full of projects, discussions just started, desires not even fulfilled - it all vanishes in a second and there's nothing left, nothing left to do, and there's no going back?
I love watching audiences scream. I imagine it's the same joy that a director feels who has made a comedy when he or she is sitting at the back of a theater listening to the audience laugh. That sound of laughter is so sweet to a comedy director and that's exactly how a horror film feels when you hear the audience scream.
Her time has come, " answered Miss Lizzie. "That's why I didn't marry Harvey - long ago when he asked me. I was afraid of 'that'. So afraid." "I don't know, " Miss Lizzie said. "Sometimes I think it's better to suffer bitter unhappiness and to fight and to scream out, and even to suffer that terrible pain, than just to be safe." She waited until the next scream died away. "At least she knows she's living.
I dare say it is rather hard to be a rat, ' she mused. 'Nobody likes you. People jump and run away and scream out: 'Oh, a horrid rat!' I shouldn't like people to scream and jump and say: 'Oh, a horrid Sara!' the moment they saw me, and set traps for me, and pretend they were dinner. It's so different to be a sparrow. But nobody asked this rat if he wanted to be a rat when he was made. Nobody said: 'Wouldn't you rather be a sparrow?
Frances Hodgson Burnett
I dare say it is rather hard to be a rat," she mused. "Nobody likes you. People jump and run away and scream out: 'Oh, a horrid rat!' I shouldn't like people to scream and jump and say: 'Oh, a horrid Sara!' the moment they saw me, and set traps for me, and pretend they were dinner. It's so different to be a sparrow. But nobody asked this rat if he wanted to be a rat when he was made. Nobody said: 'Wouldn't you rather be a sparrow?
Frances Hodgson Burnett
The boldest of the three (thieves) moved suddenly, grabbed Angua and pulled her upright. "We walk out of here unharmed or the girl gets it, all right?" he snarled. Someone sniggered. "I hope you're not going to kill anyone, " said Carrot. "That's up to us!" "Sorry, was I talking to you?" said Carrot. "Don't worry, I'll be fine, " said Angua. She looked around to make sure Cheery wasn't there and then sighed. "Come on, gentlemen, let's get this over with." "Don't play with your food!" said a voice from the crowd. There were one or two giggles until Carrot turned in his seat, whereupon everyone was suddenly intensely interested in their drinks. "It's OK, " said Angua quietly. Aware that something was off kilter, but not quite sure what it was, the thieves edged back to the door. No one moved as they unbolted it and, still holding Angua, stepped out into the fog, shutting the door behind them. "Hadn't we better help, " said a constable who was new to the Watch. "They don't deserve help, " said Vimes. there was a clank of armor and then a long, deep growl, right outside in the street. And a scream and then another scream. and a third scream modulated with "NONONOnonononononoNO!... aarghaarghaargh!" Something heavy hit the door.
Panic. You open your mouth. Open it so wide your jaws creak. You order your lungs to draw air, NOW, you need air, need it NOW. But your airways ignore you. They collapse, tighten, squeeze, and suddenly you're breaithing through a drinking straw. Your mouth closes and your lips purse and all you can manage is a croak. Your hands wriggle and shake. Somewhere a dam has cracked open and a flood of cold sweat spills, drenches your body. You want to scream. You would if you could. Cut you have to breathe to scream. Panic.
Then she did see it there - just a face, peering through the curtains, hanging in midair like a mask. A head-scarf concealed the hair and the glassy eyes stared inhumanly, but it wasn't a mask, it couldn't be. The skin had been powdered dead-white and two hectic spots of rouge centered on the cheekbones. It wasn't a mask. It was the face of a crazy old woman. Mary started to scream, and then the curtains parted further and a hand appeared, holding a butcher's knife. It was the knife that, a moment later, cut off her scream. And her head.
MY POCKETS ARE FULL AND THEY'RE WEIGHING ME DOWN AND I'M GETTING FRUSTERATED I HEAR YOU SCREAM WITHOUT HEARING A SOUND MY EYES ARE DIOLATED I FEEL LIKE RUNNING NOW I FEEL LIKE HIDING NOW I FEEL LIKE GETTING AWAY TO A FAR AWAY PLACE BUT I DONT KNOW HOW IT'S NOT FUN NOW AND I WANT TO SCREAM BUT I CAN'T SEEM TO TALK CAN'T SEEM TO FIGURE OUT WHAT IT IS ABOUT THE WAY THAT I FEEL BUT I WANT TO FEEL THIS WAY AGAIN AND I WANNA GO BACK TO WHERE I JUST CAME FROM DON'T WANT TO BE IN THIS PLACE WHERE I AM AND I WANT TO GO BACK, BACK, BACK I FEEL LIKE RUNNING NOW I FEEL LIKE HIDING NOW BUT I DON'T KNOW HOW IT'S NOT FUN NOW
Never Heard Of It