Nascemos Sos Quotes

#1. To think that this is my twentieth birthday, and that I've left my teens behind me forever," said Anne, who was curled up on the hearth-rug with Rusty in her lap, to Aunt Jamesina who was reading in her pet chair. They were alone in the living room. Stella and Priscilla had gone to a committee meeting and Phil was upstairs adorning herself for a party.

"I suppose you feel kind of sorry," said Aunt Jamesina. "The teens are such a nice part of life. I'm glad I've never gone out of them myself."

Anne laughed.

"You never will, Aunty. You'll be eighteen when you should be a hundred. Yes, I'm sorry, and a little dissatisfied as well. Miss Stacy told me long ago that by the time I was twenty my character would be formed, for good or evil. I don't feel that it's what it should be. It's full of flaws."

"So's everybody's," said Aunt Jamesina cheerfully. "Mine's cracked in a hundred places. Your Miss Stacy likely meant that when you are twenty your character would have got its permanent bent in one direction or 'tother, and would go on developing in that line. Don't worry over it, Anne. Do your duty by God and your neighbor and yourself, and have a good time. That's my philosophy and it's always worked pretty well. #Quote by L.M. Montgomery

#2. We generally have methods of "keeping lonely thoughts away," and our anxiety may appear only in occasional dreams of fright which we try to forget as soon as possible in the morning. But these differences in intensity of the fear of loneliness, and the relative success of our defenses against it, do not change the central issue. Our fear of loneliness may not be shown by anxiety as such, but by subtle thoughts which pop up to remind us, when we discover we were not invited to so-and-so's party, that someone else likes us even if the person in question doesn't, or to tell us that we were successful or popular in such-and-such other time in the past. #Quote by Rollo May

#3. And I love Jane Austen's use of language too
the way she takes her time to develop a phrase and gives it room to grow, so that these clever, complex statements form slowly and then bloom in my mind. Beethoven does the same thing with his cadence and phrasing and structure. It's a fact: Jane Austen is musical. And so's Yeats. And Wordsworth. All the great writers are musical. #Quote by Andrew Clements

#4. Honestly, Evie," I huffed, flopping back to the centre of my bed and glaring at the ceiling. "Why don't you whine some more instead of actually doing anything?"
"Talking to yourself is the first sign of madness," Arianna volunteered, leaning on the frame of my open door.
"Yeah, so's seeing things no one else can, but people seem to like that about me."
"Good point. Odds are, you've been crazy for years now. I'm probably nothing more than a figment of your imagination."
"If that were true, I'd imagine you as less of a slob."
She sighed. "Isn't it sad that you hate yourself so much you can't even dream up a pleasant roommate?"
"Not as sad as the fact that you admit how bad you suck as one."
Flashing a wicked grin, she narrowed her eyes. " I'd use the term 'suck' sparingly around me. Don't want to go planting ideas in my pretty, dead head."
I threw a pillow at her. #Quote by Kiersten White

#5. John spent the morning rebuilding his SOS sign on the beach. He says that he saw a commercial airliner pass over. I'm not sure if the trying circumstances have made him delusional, or if the plane was too high to see his small sign. I think he saw what he wanted to see. #Quote by Jennifer Arnett

#6. Well, nothing's a life or death struggle anymore, is it? The era of honor and sacrifice is over." I looked again at the O'Brian novels, lined up in order. "Jack Aubrey's full of human failings - so's Maturin - but they have principles, and they'd give their lives for them. Or for each other. Now it's all about money and status and celebrity. Not that people haven't always cared about those things, but it used to be considered venal, didn't it?" I shrugged. "It's like nobody bothers to grow up anymore. We just want to be kids all our lives. Collecting toys, having fun. #Quote by Beatriz Williams

#7. My friends were poor, but honest, so's my love. #Quote by William Shakespeare

#8. From the pocket of her windbreaker he extracted what he falsely believed to be a portable marine radio, which along with two granola bars he'd pilfered from Honey's belongings after she was snatched by the club-handed lunatic. Shreave started pressing buttons on the compact gadget and barking, "Mayday! Mayday!
There was no response from the Coast Guard pilot or any other human, and for a good reason. Except for its LED screen, the instrument in Shreave's possession was electronically dissimilar to a radio in all significant respects. Most crucial was the absence of either an audio receiver or a transmitter.
"SOS! SOS!" he persisted. "Help!"
The device was in fact a mobile GPS unit, as technogically impenetrable to Shreave as the Taser gun he'd found beneath Honey's bed. #Quote by Carl Hiaasen

#9. Will you pour out tea, Miss Brent?' The el­der wom­an replied: 'No, you do it, dear. That tea-​pot is so heavy. And I have lost two skeins of my grey knitting-​wool. So an­noy­ing.' Ve­ra moved to the tea-​ta­ble. There was a cheer­ful rat­tle and clink of chi­na. Nor­mal­ity returned. Tea! Blessed or­di­nary everyday af­ter­noon tea! Philip Lom­bard made a cheery re­mark. Blore re­spond­ed. Dr. Arm­strong told a hu­mor­ous sto­ry. Mr. Jus­tice War­grave, who or­di­nar­ily hat­ed tea, sipped ap­prov­ing­ly.

In­to this re­laxed at­mo­sphere came Rogers. And Rogers was up­set. He said ner­vous­ly and at ran­dom: 'Ex­cuse me, sir, but does any one know what's become of the bath­room cur­tain?'

Lom­bard's head went up with a jerk. 'The bath­room cur­tain? What the dev­il do you mean, Rogers?'

'It's gone, sir, clean van­ished. I was go­ing round draw­ing all the cur­tai­ns and the one in the lav -​ bath­room wasn't there any longer.'

Mr. Jus­tice War­grave asked: 'Was it there this morn­ing?'

'Oh, yes, sir.'

Blore said: 'What kind of a cur­tain was it?'

'Scar­let oil­silk, sir. It went with the scar­let tiles.'

Lom­bard said: 'And it's gone?'

'Gone, Sir.'

They stared at each oth­er.

Blore said heav­ily: 'Well - af­ter all-​what of it? It's mad - ​but so's everything else. Any­way, it doesn't matter. You can't kill any­body with an oil­silk cur­tain. For­ge #Quote by Agatha Christie

#10. I hate Arizona. It always eight hundred degrees outside and everybody's always saying, "But it's a dry heat!" So's the inside of my microwave. #Quote by Joan Rivers

#11. He's cute," I said.
"Uh-huh," the grey man agreed, "and so's dynamite. #Quote by Dashiell Hammett

#12. Pa? You never said. What'm I gonna be? Good or bad?
He kisses the top of my head. Whispers in my ear, so's only him and me can hear. You, my darlin daughter, are gonna be somethin else entirely. #Quote by Moira Young

#13. At first I couldn't believe it. I waited, not moving my cock, which was rock hard thanks to this pulsing grip.
But yes, here it was again. The same pattern, the same rhythm.
I was being signaled by an asshole in Morse code. And it was signaling SOS. #Quote by James Lear

#14. When you see a fantastic colour or cut in a magazine, perched up on some famous so-and-so's head, it's tempting to ask your stylist for the same, but do not be fooled. The hair in those fancy photos can be very high maintenance. #Quote by Beth Ditto

#15. If we fix it so's you can't make money on war, we'll all forget what we're killing folks for. #Quote by Woody Guthrie

#16. These days, there are angry ghosts all around us, dead from wars, sickness, starvation--and nobody cares. So you say you're under a curse? Well, so what? So's the whole damned world. #Quote by Hayao Miyazaki

#17. Praying is sending an SOS to the heavenly unknown. #Quote by Mehmet Murat Ildan

#18. Thank you, 4:00 p.m., for being the time of day that thoroughly confuses me: post-homework and pre-dinner. I am already exhausted and fairly irritable. The children are losing their ever-loving minds, and husband is still tucked away in his sane office with all mental faculties intact and won't answer my SOS texts to hurry and come home or their blood is on your hands. Do I make a coffee? Or pour a glass of wine? Yours, Witching-Hour Survivor. #Quote by Jen Hatmaker

#19. The next time you think something's too good to be true, remember - so's electricity and sewerage! #Quote by Odille Rault

#20. Instead of the 1997 film directed, written, by James Cameron with Leonardo DiCaprio, Kate Winslet, Billy Zane creating a love story and a large diamond with a beautiful song "My Heart Will Go On" sung by Celine Dion. What about the real love story that took place that night between the passengers themselves, and many crew members knowing they would also give their lives. Adding another meaning for "SOS" Service, Obedience, and Sacrifice. #Quote by Tom Baker

#21. I might've said something welcoming to the boy, but I'd learnt from it happening to me personal that if you wet your pants in front of a bunch of strangers, you don't really want no one talking to you. You don't want no one asking why you're walking stiff legged or doing nothing that will draw attention to yourself. My keeping quiet waren't from being ignorant and unwlecoming, it was done so's not to shame him. 'Sides, after he got done walking all the way to the Settlement with that pee chaffing 'round his pants rubbing him raw, he waren't gonna want to talk atall! #Quote by Christopher Paul Curtis

#22. If you'd just learn to do as I say from the beginning, I wouldn't have to follow up your errors with reproving smirks and repeated I-told-you-sos. #Quote by Richelle E. Goodrich

#23. Yeah, the club was dark but so's the whole country. When someone important goes missing, or the case is interesting enough, everybody has the same fetish. Whole world, really. No one admits it, but it's true. #Quote by Charlie Donlea

#24. Mercy might be the mark of a great man, but then so's a tombstone."
– Extract from the personal memoirs of Dread Emperor Terribilis II #Quote by ErraticErrata

#25. If you wants to get elected president, you'se got to think up some
memoraboble homily so's school kids can be pestered into memorizin' it,
even if they don't know what it means. #Quote by Walt Kelly

#26. I get it, let's just all write SOS on the ballot. Same Old Shit! #Quote by Rodney Ross

#27. That was well-done," Alan told her later as he gave Shelby a limited tour of the house.
"Was it?" Laughing,she linked her hand with his. "He's a difficult man to resist." She rose on her toes to nibble his earlobe. "So's his firstborn."
"That term's to be used reverently," Alan warned her. "Personally I've always found it a pain in the- #Quote by Nora Roberts

#28. Of course, I hated my fellow clerks one and all, and I despised them all, yet at the same time I was, as it were, afraid of them. In fact, it happened at times that I thought more highly of them than of myself. It somehow happened quite suddenly that I alternated between despising them and thinking them superior to myself. A cultivated and decent man cannot be vain without setting a fearfully high standard for himself, and without despising and almost hating himself at certain moments. But whether I despised them or thought them superior I dropped my eyes almost every time I met anyone. I even made experiments whether I could face so and so's looking at me, and I was always the first to drop my eyes. #Quote by Fyodor Dostoyevsky

#29. Human rights, dissidence, antiracism, SOS-this, SOS-that: these are soft, easy, post coitum historicum ideologies, 'after-the-orgy' ideologies for an easy-going generation which has known neither hard ideologies nor radical philosophies. The ideology of a generation which is neo-sentimental in its politics too, which has rediscovered altruism, conviviality, international charity and the individual bleeding heart. Emotional outpourings, solidarity, cosmopolitan emotiveness, multi-media pathos: all soft values harshly condemned by the Nietzschean, Marxo-Freudian age ... A new generation, that of the spoilt children of the crisis, whereas the preceding one was that of the accursed children of history. #Quote by Jean Baudrillard

#30. This world rubs me raw, scours me smooth like an SOS pad put to a grease-caked skillet. And pain: it stabs and scrapes and pulls me back to earth, my final B&B, that worm-spun cot of cool black sod. #Quote by Chila Woychik