Moaning Myrtle Quotes

#1. Hello, Harry. Hello, Draco. Have you been bad boys again? #Quote by J.K. Rowling

#2. Maybe he murdered Myrtle; that would've done everyone a favor ... #Quote by J.K. Rowling

#3. I could have been someone from the book if you'd told me in advance."
"Yes, well, today you'd make a really great Moaning Myrtle."
Peter gives me a blank look, and disbelieving, I say, "Wait a minute…have you never read Harry Potter?"
"I've read the first two."
"Then you should know who Moaning Myrtle is!"
"It was a really long time ago," Peter says. "Was she one of those people in the paintings?"
"No! And how could you stop after Chamber of Secrets? The third one's the best out of the whole series. I mean, that's literally crazy to me." I peer at his face. "Do you not have a soul? #Quote by Jenny Han

#4. The woods are never solitary
they are full of whispering, beckoning, friendly life. But the sea is a mighty soul, forever moaning of some great, unshareable sorrow, which shuts it up into itself for all eternity. #Quote by L.M. Montgomery

#5. I'm blacked than midnight on Broadway and Myrtle #Quote by Mos Def

#6. Bubba showed it to his mother. Then he played the tape. It was about ten minutes of moaning, wailing, and some chains rattling. #Quote by C.L. Bevill

#7. You want me to make it better for you. Just the way you feel full and satisfied now, you're going to let me satiate you in the bedroom. Any way I want. Splayed out for me in chains on the bed, unable to move while my tongue finds all the places that drive you crazy."

"I won't let that happen," she breathed.

"You already have. You've let me lick you. I swear I can still taste you--sweet. Addictive." He smiled. "I can already hear you moaning. Letting go. Submitting to me."

~Trance #Quote by Sydney Croft

#8. The voices of all the lost, all the Indians, metis, hunters, Mounted Police, wolfers, cowboys, all the bundled bodies that the spring uncovered and the warming sun released into the stink of final decay; all the starving, freezing, gaunt, and haunted men who had challenged this country and failed; all the ghosts from smallpox-stilled Indian camps, the wandering spirits of warriors killed in their sleep on the borders of the deadly hills, all the skeleton women and children of the starving winters, all the cackling, maddened cannibals, every terrified, lonely, crazed, and pitiful outcry that these plains had ever wrung from human lips, went wailing and moaning over him, mingled with the living shouts of the foreman and the old-timer, and he said, perhaps aloud, remembering the legend of the Crying River, and the voices that rode the wind there as here, Qu'appelle? Qu'appelle? #Quote by Wallace Stegner

#9. There is only one path which leads to the house of forgiveness - that of understanding. #Quote by Myrtle Reed

#10. I'm so in love with you. You were perfect last night." "I love you back, babe." Day tilted his head back and thrust into him. God slid down and grabbed both of Day's ass cheeks and massaged them while moaning in his ear. "Hell! #Quote by A.E. Via

#11. [On marriage:] Someone once said that it was like a crowded church - those outside were endeavouring to get in, and those inside were making violent efforts to get out. #Quote by Myrtle Reed

#12. I pressed PLAY and started up Chiron's favorite
the All-Time Greatest Hits of Dean Martin. Suddenly the air was filled with violins and a bunch of guys moaning in Italian.
The demon pigeons went nuts. They started flying in circles, running into each other like they wanted to bash their own brains out. #Quote by Rick Riordan

#13. When the spirit stepped out of the open tomb, pale white and moaning for blood, Sansa ran shrieking for the stairs, and Bran wrapped himself around Robb's leg, sobbing. Arya stood her ground and gave the spirit a punch. It was only Jon, covered with flour. "You stupid," she told him, "you scared the baby," but Jon and Robb just laughed and laughed, and pretty soon Bran and Arya were laughing too. #Quote by George R R Martin

#14. A kiss-goodnight
Can last for hours
Moaning into your mouth
Licking the sweetness
Of my lips
Biting softly
Holding on
To the taste of yours
Never wanting
To let go
Asking you
To kiss me forever
Asking the goodnight-kiss
To become
A kiss-good-morning
A kiss-I-love-you
An entwined faith
Of two souls
Becoming one
In a single moment's kiss... #Quote by Veronika Jensen

#15. The only way to win happiness is to give it. The more we give, the more we have. #Quote by Myrtle Reed

#16. There's a book here in which I read about the trial of a Jew, who took a child of four years old and cut off the fingers from both hands, and then crucified him on the wall, hammered nails into him and crucified him, and afterwards, when he was tried, he said that the child died soon, within four hours. That was 'soon'! He said the child moaned, kept on moaning and he stood admiring it. That's nice!"

"Nice?"

"Nice; I sometimes imagine that it was I who crucified him. He would hang there moaning and I would sit opposite him eating pineapple compote. I am awfully fond of pineapple compote. Do you like it?"

Alyosha looked at her in silence. Her pale, sallow face was suddenly contorted, her eyes burned.

"You know, when I read about that Jew I shook with sobs all night. I kept fancying how the little thing cried and moaned (a child of four years old understands, you know), and all the while the thought of pineapple compote haunted me. In the morning I wrote a letter to a certain person, begging him particularly to come and see me. He came and I suddenly told him all about the child and the pineapple compote. All about it, all, and said that it was nice. He laughed and said it really was nice. Then he got up and went away. He was only here five minutes. Did he despise me? Did he despise me? Tell me, tell me, Alyosha, did he despise me or not?" She sat up on the couch, with flashing eyes. #Quote by Fyodor Dostoyevsky

#17. Culloden, Scotland, April 1746
All around was the awful sound of moaning. It was not just mournful, but the sound of immense suffering, the cries of dying men. The battle had waged on, and the day was far spent. In dirt and blood, the soldiers waded on. Horizontal rain, snow, and wind made the normal battle conditions much worse.
Near the edge of the field I stood holding a gun, pointing it at the lad who had once been my best friend. He was dressed in the red coat of a government soldier; I was not. #Quote by David Holdsworth

#18. Sometimes I can't believe I'm going to be 60. I always say there's no point moaning about getting older, when there's nothing you can do about it. But still, I do find it quite funny. I look at that number, 60, and I think, 'Really? Me?' #Quote by Twiggy

#19. When we get civilised, I believe children will go by number until they get old enough to choose their own names. #Quote by Myrtle Reed

#20. Beginning today, I will create a new future by creating a new me. No longer will I dwell in a pit of despair, moaning over squandered time and lost opportunity. I can do nothing about the past. My future is immediate. I will grasp it in both hands and carry it with running feet. When I am faced with the choice of doing nothing or doing something, I will always choose to act! I seize this moment. I choose now. #Quote by Andy Andrews

#21. Where are your monuments, your battles, martyrs?
Where is your tribal memory? Sirs,
in that gray vault. The sea. The sea
has locked them up. The sea is History.

First, there was the heaving oil,
heavy as chaos;
then, likea light at the end of a tunnel,

the lantern of a caravel,
and that was Genesis.
Then there were the packed cries,
the shit, the moaning:

Exodus.
Bone soldered by coral to bone,
mosaics
mantled by the benediction of the shark's shadow,

that was the Ark of the Covenant.
Then came from the plucked wires
of sunlight on the sea floor

the plangent harp of the Babylonian bondage,
as the white cowries clustered like manacles
on the drowned women,

and those were the ivory bracelets
of the Song of Solomon,
but the ocean kept turning blank pages

looking for History.
Then came the men with eyes heavy as anchors
who sank without tombs,

brigands who barbecued cattle,
leaving their charred ribs like palm leaves on the shore,
then the foaming, rabid maw

of the tidal wave swallowing Port Royal,
and that was Jonah,
but where is your Renaissance?

Sir, it is locked in them sea sands
out there past the reef's moiling shelf,
where the men-o'-war floated down;

strop on these goggles, I'll guide you there myself.
It's all subtle and sub #Quote by Derek Walcott

#22. A good forgettery is a happier possession than a good memory. #Quote by Myrtle Reed

#23. A man likes to feel that he is loved, a woman likes to be told. #Quote by Myrtle Reed

#24. I hate people who say, "Good moaning," instead of, "Good morning." What kind of a wanker, are they? I'll tell you. It's their little joke, you see. They view it as a clever play on words, changing one letter to make a completely different word. Do you get it? By changing the 'r' in morning to an 'a' the whole meaning of the word changes. Do you see how witty they are? WANKEEERRRSS!!!! #Quote by Karl Wiggins

#25. Is it where the flow'r of the orange blows, And the fireflies dance thro' the myrtle boughs? #Quote by Felicia Hemans

#26. Art, if it is art, will develop in whatever circumstances it is placed. #Quote by Myrtle Reed

#27. She exhaled, and then looked back to Nigel, who was still lying on the floor, moaning incoherently.
Simon looked down, too, and for several seconds they just stood there, staring at the unconscious man, until the girl said, "I really didn't hit him very hard."
"Maybe he's drunk."
She looked dubious. "Do you think? I smelled spirits on his breath, but I've never seen him drunk before."
Simon had nothing to add to that line of thought, so he just asked, "Well, what do you want to do?"
"I suppose we could just leave him here," she said, the expression in her dark eyes hesitant.
Simon thought that was an excellent idea, but it was obvious she wanted the idiot cared for in a more tender manner. And heaven help him, but he felt the strangest compulsion to make her happy.
"Here is what we're going to do," he said crisply, glad that his tone belied any of the odd tenderness he was feeling. "I am going to summon my carriage - "
"Oh, good," she interrupted. "I really didn't want to leave him here. It seemed rather cruel."
Simon thought it seemed rather generous considering the big oaf had nearly attacked her, but he kept that opinion to himself and instead continued on with his plan. "You will wait in the library while I'm gone."
"In the library? But - "
"In the library," he repeated firmly. "With the door shut. Do you really want to be discovered with Nigel's body should anyone happen to wander down this hallway?"
#Quote by Julia Quinn

#28. Moaning, delirious with my own pleasure. I know that I'm selling my soul to him at this very moment. #Quote by Ella Frank

#29. When things hurt us, we're merely on our way to another spiritual environment. #Quote by Myrtle Reed

#30. Next time you put your hands on me at work I'm gonna start moaning like a porn star. #Quote by Sarina Bowen

#31. I straighten and stretch my neck side to side. 'I really need to hit something.'
Rafa's mouth quirks. 'I know what you need.'
'In your dreams.' I know where this is going: it's been the same banter for about five decades now. Usually he saves it for an audience.
'In my dreams, Gabe, you end up slick with sweat and moaning.'
'I have food poisoning?'
He laughs, a beer halfway to his lips. Condensation drips from the bottle. He's completely at ease here: three-quarter cargoes, frayed t-shirt, bare feet. 'I'm just saying that if you need distracting, I'm your man.'
'If I wanted to go places everyone else has been, Rafa, I'd take a trip to Disneyland.'
He leans in closer. 'Yeah, but don't you want to know why everyone loves Space Mountain? #Quote by Paula Weston

#32. Oh freddled gruntbuggly,
Thy micturitions are to me,
As plurdled gabbleblotchits,
On a lurgid bee,
That mordiously hath blurted out,
Its earted jurtles,
Into a rancid festering confectious organ squealer. [drowned out by moaning and screaming]
Now the jurpling slayjid agrocrustles,
Are slurping hagrilly up the axlegrurts,
And living glupules frart and slipulate,
Like jowling meated liverslime,
Groop, I implore thee, my foonting turling dromes,
And hooptiously drangle me,
With crinkly bindlewurdles,
Or else I shall rend thee in the gobberwarts with my blurglecruncheon,
See if I don't. #Quote by Douglas Adams

#33. Making an issue of a little thing is one of the surest ways to spoil happiness. #Quote by Myrtle Reed