How could you let him do this? (Shahara) I know you're not going to pin this on me, Shay. I didn't raise the embryo. You did. It's what you get for teaching him things like honor, love, courage, and loyalty. If you'd left him a scared little snot-nose, he'd still be living in your basement. (Vik)
It's like you said the other day," said Adam. "You grow up readin' about pirates and cowboys and spacemen and stuff, and jus' when you think the world's full of amazin' things, they tell you it's really all dead whales and chopped-down forests and nucular waste hangin' about for millions of years. 'Snot worth growin' up for, if you ask my opinion.
About 25 years ago, I took a bicycle across the United States. I soon found out that the greatest item of clothing was the trusty bandanna. There were dozens of uses for a bandanna - as a pot holder, a chain cleaner, a sun shield, a headband, a snot rag, a declaration of Kerouacian intent.
Witch' is just a religion, okay? No baby-sacrificing, no Black Masses, no sending imps out to scare the dog-snot out of kids, trying to make them think they're crazy. We don't do things like that. Our number-one law is 'Have fun in this lifetime, but don't hurt anybody.' Nice little paraphrase of "An it harm none, do as ye will" if I do say so myself.
You ever think about having kids?" "All the time.I ´d love to have a houseful. Then one of my nieces or nephews turns Exorsist on me and spews the most discusting things imaginable out both ends "" things that make the demon snot feel like a bubble bath. That usually cures me of that stupidity for at least a day or two." (Sam & Dev)
Summer is a Latvian chicken. We make foolish choices. We think we're young again. We run with outstretched arms toward an object of love and it pecks us and pecks us until we're standing there snot-nosed and teary in the middle of Astor Place and the sun sets fire to our Penguin shirts and all that is left to do is go to our air-conditioned homes and ponder the cruelty of our finest season.
Love or affection towards an individual or nation, is indicated by good action snot merely be words. The adoration towards nation is expressed by works of welfare equally done by the ruler and theruled. The ruler himself must be engatged, in welfare of th country and also should select officials examining their involvement with the public god. Self-centered people greedy of the power should be kept away
Heat radiated off Henry's face. Salty snot ran down his upper lip. A majestic fart propelled him to the top of Section 12, just at the springing of the stadium's curve. He slapped the sign as if high-fiving a teamate. It gave back a game shudder. He was crusing now, darkness be damned, stripping off his sweatshirt and his long underwear top without breaking stride.
Famously in 1936, Oswald Mosley led a march of his British black shirts through a mostly Jewish neighborhood, in the east end of London. What resulted was what they called the "Battle of Cable Street", where Oswald Mosley and his fascists basically got the snot beaten out of them when East London rose up against them and beat them up.
Tana would sit near the door to the basement with fingers in her ears, tears and snot running down her face as she cried and cried and cried. And little Pearl would toddle up, crying, too. They cried while they ate their cereal, cried while they watched cartoons, and cried themselves to sleep at night, huddled together in Tana's little bed. 'Make her stop' Pearl said, but Tana couldn't.
You can take Lucas to watch football when he's older, ' she once told me. Ah, the rheumy-eyed grandpa on the terraces inducting the lad into the mysteries of soccer: how to loathe people wearing different coloured shirts, how to feign injury, how to blow your snot on to the pitch - See, son, you press hard on one nostril to close it, and explode the green stuff out of the other. How to be vain and overpaid and have your best years behind you before you've even understood what life's about. Oh yes, I look forward to taking Lucas to the football.
Pearl rolled a tiny pink speck in her fingers, possibly part of Rose's new leg that I'd tried so hard to make a good match. Pearl laughed and flicked it away as if it was snot out of her nose. I suddenly couldn't stand it. I rushed at her.She saw I wasn't playing around. She ran for it but I caught up with her along the landing. I punched her hard in the chest and she staggered back wards - back and back, and then she wobbled and went right over, down the stairs.
There will come a time when a person you most likely pushed out through your vagina and nursed from your nipples, whose bottom you wiped, and whose snot and spit you cleaned up over several sleep-starved years will apprehend you with a mixture of boredom and irritation and say, 'Get a life, Mum.' This would be a good time to remember that a) violence never solved anything; b) teenagers don't have a full brain yet - the prefrontal cortex that controls the ability to make important distinctions, like who controls the pocket money, only kicks in around the age of twenty-four; and c) you are, in fact, the adult.
You make someone into a object of - not so much of pity as of weakness, sickness, stupidity, inefectiveness, do you see what I mean? You hit them for their stupidity and their inability to respond, and when you've hurt them, marked them, they're even more sick and ugly, aren't they? And they're afraid and cringing too. Oh, I know this isn't very pleasant, but you did ask.' 'Go on' he said. 'So you've got a frightened, stupid, even disabled person, silenced, made ugly, and what can you do with someone like that, someone who's unworthy of being treated well? You treat them badly because that's what they deserve. One thinks of poor little kids that no one love because they're dirty, sovered in snot and shit, and always screaming. So you beat them because they're hateful, they're low, they're sub-human. That's all they're good for, being hit, being reduced even further.
Not a wonder you are out camping with us princess, ' Rizz said dryly. Falita gave a clearing snort of her opposite nostril and looked up. 'Why's that?' 'One can't go snorting and blowing snot all over a castle. It would ruin the decor!' Falita ignored the comment. 'A bath would certainly freshen things up.' 'You've bathed three times in five days. How many more baths do you need?' Artamos asked. 'Enough to stay clean, and I don't recall either of you bathing on this trip.' 'I don't need to Princess, ' Rizz replied. 'I have my own naturally sweet odor.' Falita scrunched up her nose, 'I'm aware of that, and it is not pleasing in camp.
He looked at them and saw their faces did not fit. The skin on the skulls crawled and twitched like half-solid paste. All the heads in his angle of vision seemed irregular lumps, like potatoes but without a potato's repose: potatoes with crawling surfaces punctured by holes which opened and shut, holes blocked with coloured jelly or fringed with bone stumps, elastic holes through which air was sucked or squirted, holes secreting salt, wax, spittle and snot. He grasped a pencil in his trouser pocket, wishing it were a knife he could thrust through his cheek and use to carve his face down to the clean bone. But that was foolish. Nothing clean lay under the face. He thought of sectioned brains, palettes, eyeballs and ears seen in medical diagrams and butcher's shops. He thought of elastic muscle, pulsing tubes, gland sacks full of lukewarm fluid, the layers of cellular and fibrous and granular tissues inside a head. What was felt as tastes, caresses, dreams and thoughts could be seen as a cleverly articulated mass of garbage.
FREE MY NIGGA TURK HE OUT NOW SHOUTOUT TO THE HOT BOYS PANORAMIC ROOF TO MY NEW BENTLEY SEE THE STARS RED BENTLEY AND RED JEEPS I GOT THEM HOT TOYS YOU SAID YOU HOT LIKE BUT TELL THE TRUTH YOU KNOW YOU'RE NOT BOY FUCKIN' AROUND WITH LAMES THAT'S HOW LIL SCOOTER GOT SHOT BOY THIS SHOOTERS WELL TRAINED THEY MISSED A LOTTA SHOTS BOY I'M MR SHOW OFF SHOWING IT ALL CAUSE GUCCI GOT A LOT BOY SHE MISS 8BALL SHE SNORT A LOT A LOTTA BLOODY SNOT BOY 100 POUNDS I TOOK THAT SHIT CAUSE I'M CREAM OF THE CROP BOY GOT SO MUCH MONEY HIDING IN THIS SHIT AND GET THIS SHIT JUST RIDING BOY MY LIL' BOY BEEN SPOILIN' YOU KNOW THAT BOY IS RIDING BOY I'M FROM DOWN SOUTH SAY I'M COUNTRY, BITCH, BUT I'M NOT PICKIN' COTTON BOY RIDING AROUND IN MY BENTLEY I'M LIKE MOTHAFUCK A TOP BOY ROLLY POLLIE ON MY WRIST MY NIGGA CAUSE I CAN'T WEAR NO SWATCH BOY I PAID 150000 FOR THE ROLEX GOLD CLOCK BOY ME AND THUG KEEP SHOWING GOLDS MAN WE FEEL LIKE WE THE HOT BOYS THEY CALL ME BIG GUCCI BIG GUWOP WHEN I DROP MY HARD TOP CALL ME GUCCI ME SLICK GUCCI WHEN I DROP MY DROP TOP IF YOU AIN'T DOWN WITH BRICK SQUAD NIGGA YOUSE A HAVE-NOT MAN WE SHOWED OUT IN THE PARKING LOT AND WE COULD SHOOT OUT THE PARKING LOT KILLA A NIGGA FOR A PARKING SPOT SO SET YOUR FRIEND GOT CHOPPED UP AIN'T GONNA SHOW REMORSE AT ALL SO I LEAVE A SMOKE A WHOLE QUAP MOJO TRUCK LIKE 7 FEET TALL THAT BOY BE BALLIN A WHOLE LOT ME AND TAKING MONEY YOU KNOW ME WE GONNA SEND SHOTS
Gucci Mane & Young Thug
I'll find out who's inside. Wait here and keep alert!' Hallam rasped. He skirted the main path to skulk towards one of the shuttered windows on the building's eastern wall. There was a crack in the wood and he gently inched closer to peer inside. There was a hearth-fire with a pot bubbling away and a battered table made of a length of wood over two pieces of cut timber. A small ham hung from the rafters, away from the rats and mice. He couldn't see anyone but there was a murmur of voices. Hallam leaned in even closer and a young boy with hair the colour of straw saw the movement to stare. It was Little Jim. Thank God, the child was safe. Snot hung from his nose and he was pale. Hallam put a finger to his lips, but the boy, not even four, did not understand, and just gaped innocently back. Movement near the window. A man wearing a blue jacket took up a stone bottle and wiped his long flowing moustache afterwards. His hair was shoulder-length, falling unruly over the red collar of his jacket. Tied around his neck was a filthy red neckerchief. A woman moaned and the man grinned with tobacco stained teeth at the sound. Laughter and French voices. The woman whimpered and Little Jim turned to watch unseen figures. His eyes glistened and his bottom lip dropped. The woman began to plead and Hallam instinctively growled. The Frenchman, hearing the noise, pushed the shutter open and the pistol's cold muzzle pressed against his forehead. Hallam watched the man's eyes narrow and then widen, before his mouth opened. Whatever he intended to shout was never heard, because the ball smashed through his skull to erupt in a bloody spray as it exited the back of the Frenchman's head. There was a brief moment of silence. '28th!' Hallam shouted, as he stepped back against the wall. 'Make ready!