8th Grade Quotes

You know, sometimes I'll go to an 8th-grade graduation and there's all that pomp and circumstance and gowns and flowers. And I think to myself, it's just 8th grade ... An 8th-grade education doesn't cut it today. Let's give them a handshake and tell them to get their butts back in the library!

Henry shrugged. "I've kissed plenty of girls." "I'm not talking about your mom,dork.

I have an 8th grade education. Of course, I also have a bachelor’s degree.

Why can't we repeat 8th grace five times and call that a high school education?

I guess it’s true what they say: it’s really hard to spot someone dressed in meat, slinking along a meat wall. —Sadia: The 8th Circle of Heck

Change the way you look at things, and the things you look at will change.

8th-grade test scores. Kids in the richest quarter with low test scores are as likely to make it through college as kids in the poorest quarter with high scores (see chart).

I wish I had asked myself when I was younger. My path was so tracked that in my 8th-grade yearbook, one of my friends predicted— accurately— that four years later I would enter Stanford as a sophomore. And after a conventionally successful undergraduate career, I enrolled at Stanford Law School, where I competed even harder for the standard badges of success. The highest prize in a law student’s world is unambiguous: out of tens of thousands of graduates each year, only a few dozen get a Supreme Court clerkship. After clerking on a federal appeals court for a year, I was invited to interview for clerkships with Justices Kennedy and Scalia. My meetings with the Justices went well. I was so close to winning this last competition. If only I got the clerkship, I thought, I would be set for life. But I didn’t. At the time, I was devastated. In 2004, after I had built and sold PayPal, I ran into an old friend from law school who had helped me prepare my failed clerkship applications. We hadn’t spoken in nearly a decade. His first question wasn’t “How are you doing?” or “Can you believe it’s been so long?” Instead, he grinned and asked: “So, Peter, aren’t you glad you didn’t get that clerkship?” With the benefit of hindsight, we both knew that winning that ultimate competition would have changed my life for the worse. Had I actually clerked on the Supreme Court, I probably would have spent my entire career taking depositions or drafting other people’s business deals instead of creating anything new. It’s hard to say how much would be different, but the opportunity costs were enormous. All Rhodes Scholars had a great future in their past. the best paths are new and untried. will this business still be around a decade from now? business is like chess. Grandmaster José Raúl Capablanca put it well: to succeed, “you must study the endgame before everything else. The few who knew what might be learned, Foolish enough to put their whole heart on show, And reveal their feelings to the crowd below, Mankind has always crucified and burned. Above all, don’t overestimate your own power as an individual. Founders are important not because they are the only ones whose work has value, but rather because a great founder can bring out the best work from everybody at his company. That we need individual founders in all their peculiarity does not mean that we are called to worship Ayn Randian “prime movers” who claim to be independent of everybody around them. In this respect, Rand was a merely half-great writer: her villains were real, but her heroes were fake. There is no Galt’s Gulch. There is no secession from society. To believe yourself invested with divine self-sufficiency is not the mark of a strong individual, but of a person who has mistaken the crowd’s worship—or jeering—for the truth. The single greatest danger for a founder is to become so certain of his own myth that he loses his mind. But an equally insidious danger for every business is to lose all sense of myth and mistake disenchantment for wisdom.

always avoiding me. I skate right up to her, do

By 12th grade, the average black or Hispanic is reading and doing math at the level of the average white 8th-grader. 38

The school gave me a test. I scored very high on some parts and very low on others. They said that made me Dyslexic and it couldn’t be fixed. That was in 8th grade. I was already devastated emotionally because I was being molested by a “priest. I just gave up.” —

Off the roof… onto the kiddie slide… ollie into the empty pool… up the other side… do a 360, yeah!… carve around the side… handplant on the lip… hmmm, kinda high up here…

I never checked Facebook. Most of my friends from school didn’t use it much. Dad, on the other hand, used it a lot. When I tried, I learned more than I ever wanted to know about the political beliefs of our next-door neighbor, my 8th grade English teacher, and Jan down at the market. When I saw Ms. Simon tell Jan she was “drinking the Koolaid” and the whole town tossing gun statistics at each other under a post that started with, “Got my flu shot!” I decided this was not a thing I wanted in on.

I don’t know, {she} reminds me of a biology teacher I had in 8th grade, another dutiful demystifier, inveterate empiricist and wearer of sensible shoes. First class of the year, Mrs. Voight announced in a smug tone of voice, striving for the matter-of-fact, that a human being was nothing more than a collection of chemicals that can be had from a biological supply company for approximately $4. Why so cheap? Because we were 95% water and the rest consisting of relatively common forms of carbon. I knew that day that even if Mrs. Voight was right she was not going to teach me anything I needed to know. Everything that lives is 95% water. Genius is 95% perspiration, 5% inspiration. Success is 95% hard work, OK, I get it, but what about that 5%? Tell me watermelon is 99% water and you still haven’t told me anything interesting. Like, what about the 1%? Because chances are that’s where you’re gonna find the watermelon.

I don’t know, {she} reminds me of a biology teacher I had in 8th grade, another dutiful demystifier, inveterate empiricist and wearer of sensible shoes. First class of the year, Mrs. Voight announced in a smug tone of voice, striving for the matter-of-fact, that a human being was nothing more than a collection of chemicals that can be had from a biological supply company for approximately $4. Why so cheap? Because we were 95% water and the rest consisting of relatively common forms of carbon. I knew that day that even if Mrs. Voight was right she was not going to teach me anything I needed to know. Everything that lives is 95% water. Genius is 95% perspiration, 5% inspiration. Success is 95% hard work, OK, I get it, but what about that 5%? Tell me watermelon is 99% water and you still haven’t told me anything interesting. Like, what about the 1%? Because chances are that’s where you’re gonna find the watermelon.

My path was so tracked that in my 8th-grade yearbook, one of my friends predicted—accurately—that four years later I would enter Stanford as a sophomore. And after a conventionally successful undergraduate career, I enrolled at Stanford Law School, where I competed even harder for the standard badges of success. The highest prize in a law student’s world is unambiguous: out of tens of thousands of graduates each year, only a few dozen get a Supreme Court clerkship. After clerking on a federal appeals court for a year, I was invited to interview for clerkships with Justices Kennedy and Scalia. My meetings with the Justices went well. I was so close to winning this last competition. If only I got the clerkship, I thought, I would be set for life. But I didn’t. At the time, I was devastated. In 2004, after I had built and sold PayPal, I ran into an old friend from law school who had helped me prepare my failed clerkship applications. We hadn’t spoken in nearly a decade. His first question wasn’t “How are you doing?” or “Can you believe it’s been so long?” Instead, he grinned and asked: “So, Peter, aren’t you glad you didn’t get that clerkship?” With the benefit of hindsight, we both knew that winning that ultimate competition would have changed my life for the worse. Had I actually clerked on the Supreme Court, I probably would have spent my entire career taking depositions or drafting other people’s business deals instead of creating anything new. It’s hard to say how much would be different, but the opportunity costs were enormous. All Rhodes Scholars had a great future in their past.

Glenn Hammond Curtiss was a bicycle enthusiast before he started building motorcycles. Although he only attended grammar school to the 8th grade, his interests motivated him to move on to greater things. In 1904, as a self-taught engineer, he began to manufacture engines for airships. During this time, Curtiss became known for having won a number of international air races and for making the first long-distance flight in the United States. On September 30, 1907, Curtiss was invited to join a non-profit pioneering research program named the “Aerial Experimental Association,” founded under the leadership of Dr. Alexander Graham Bell, to develop flying machines. The organization was established having a fixed time period, which ended in March of 1909. During this time, the members produced several different aircraft in a cooperative, rather than a competitive, spirit.

As a sexually active teen in a Catholic family, I was given no sex information other than the nun who advised our 8th grade class to “think of a hamburger when you have impure thoughts.

Sully: [quoting] Beware the chains we forge in life. Miss Beryl: I don't suppose you remember who said that? Sully: You did Miss Beryl, all through 8th grade.

The pipedream that a publishing house is just going to swoop in, save the day, and bring you tea and crumpets all afternoon while you stare out the window working on the next great American novel is dead. It doesn’t exist. Hemingway had a good run, but as soon as the internet was invented, that era came to an end. Today, the writers who succeed, and who actually make money, are more than just writers. They are brands. They are solo-run companies. They are the publisher, the creative director, the distributor, and the writer, all wrapped up into one—and they embrace the additional responsibility, because it means they have more monetary ownership and creative control over their work. Instead of shying away from this new world, and wishing things were different, I encourage you to welcome it with open arms. Either way, this is the direction the publishing world is headed. So as my 8th grade math teacher used to say, “You can either get on the bus, or you can get off of the bus. Either way, we’re leaving.

finally find Eddie in his room and ask him about the purple wire leading underground somewhere.

all. Then I’m on my board again, carving on a half-pipe, ollying on a quarter, grinding

While we sat at the bar, Dave told me the most important advice about talking to women I had ever received, and that was to be as relaxed as possible and not fear rejection. Dave then began hooking up with some girl who looked like a hybrid of Rosie O’Donnell and Miss Piggy, leaving me alone to ponder his words.” “When I was in 8th grade, there was this girl named Sandra who I used to ride the school bus with. Sandra was about 5’2, 120 lbs, and looked like the Hamburglar. She was the prettiest girl in my class.” “In my mind I was the life of the party and felt as though I could do no wrong when it came to interacting with the opposite sex. That was until Marissa caught me red handed hooking up with some girl who looked like a combination of John Madden and Andre the Giant, tapping me on the shoulder and kicking me square in the nuts.” “I was starting to feel bad about how I treated women. Oh wait, no I wasn’t. The girls at Binghamton were nothing more than a bunch of dumb sluts that just wanted to get drunk and suck dick, and besides, they were all going to make a lot more money than me in the future. So I may as well catch brains while these bitches were dumb enough to blow me.” “Out of all the people I could’ve stumbled into blackout drunk, why did it have to be THE MOOSE? As son as she saw me her 300 lb frame waddled over, and she jammed her tongue down my throat, devouring me as though I were a Big Mac. This was embarrassing. Here I was making out with some girl who looked like Eric Cartman in a dress, and everybody was watching. My life was effectively over.” “After annihilating Ruben’s toilet, I looked over my shoulder for some much-needed toilet paper, when to my shock and dismay there was not a single sheet of paper in sight. There’s no way in hell I was rejoining the party covered in poop and I would have wiped my ass with anything. That’s when I noticed his New York Yankees bath towel.” “I spent the rest of my week off getting completely shitfaced with Chris, and that’s when I realized I might be developing a drinking problem. At Bar None, hooking up with some girl who looked like the Loch Ness Monster; this shit had to stop. Alcohol was turning me into a drunken mess, and I vowed right then and there to quit drinking and start smoking more weed immediately.” “I got a new roommate. His name was Erick and he was an ex-marine. Erick and I didn’t know each other, but he knew Kevin, and he also knew that I didn’t shower and that last semester I left a used condom on the floor for two weeks without throwing it away. Eric therefore did not want to live with me.” “Believe it or not, I got another job working with the disabled. See, Manny was nice enough to hook me up with a position as a job coach at the Lavelle School for the Blind. The kid’s name was Fred and he was blind with cerebral palsy. Fred loved dogs and I loved smoking week. Bad combination, and I was fired with 3 days left in the program after allowing Fred to run across the street into oncoming traffic, because I had smoked a bowl an hour earlier. Manny and I never spoke again.” “My life was a dream and a nightmare rolled into one. Here I was living this carefree existence, getting drunk, boning bitches, and playing Sega Genesis in between. Oh wait, what am I talking about? My life was awesome. It’s the rest of my life that’s going to suck.

Trying to translate a court order while having a 8th grade education is wild to me. Just do the job you were hired to do, Dana.

¿Cuánto cuesta una maleta de 23 kilos en Copa Airlines? Si tu maleta excede los 23 kg permitidos +1-1-855-542-9367 EE. UU, +52-800-953-3598 ES o +52-800-953-3598 MX, deberás pagar un cargo por sobrepeso. Copa Airlines maneja las siguientes tarifas: Entre 24 kg y 32 kg: Se cobrará un adicional de $50 a $100 USD +1-855-919-6222 EE Si viajas con Copa Airlines, una maleta de 23 kg puede costar entre $30 y $60 [+1-855-542-9367 EE. UU., +52-800-953-3598 ES, +52-800-953-3598 MX], dependiendo del itinerario.