Angie Movie Quotes

Libby was more beautiful than any movie star. She just didn’t know it, which he loved about her.

White people always want to split up. And when they do, something back happens.” “That’s only in horror movies, though,” he says. “Nah. Shit like that is always on the news,” says DeVante. “They go on a hiking trip, split up, and a bear kills somebody.” “Car breaks down, they split up to find help, and a serial killer murders somebody,” Seven adds.

The most genuine, soul-stirring smile forms and his entire aspect brightens when his eyes meet mine. My steps falter. No one’s ever looked at me like that before—like I’m the sunrise after a long winter’s night. Or the first present on Christmas morning. It’s a look you see in movies, and from Graeme, it’s devastating.

Daddy, you’re the worst person to watch Harry Potter with. The whole time you’re talking about”—I deepen my voice—“‘Why don’t they shoot that nigga Voldemort?’” “Ay, it don’t make sense that in all them movies and books, nobody thought to shoot him.” “If it’s not that,” Momma says, “you’re giving your ‘Harry Potter is about gangs’ theory.” “It is!” he says. Okay, so it is a good theory. Daddy claims the Hogwarts houses are really gangs. They have their own colors, their own hideouts, and they are always riding for each other, like gangs. Harry, Ron, and Hermione never snitch on one another, just like gangbangers. Death Eaters even have matching tattoos. And look at Voldemort. They’re scared to say his name. Really, that “He Who Must Not Be Named” stuff is like giving him a street name. That’s some gangbanging shit right there. “Y’all know that make a lot of sense,” Daddy says. “Just ’cause they was in England don’t mean they wasn’t gangbanging.” He looks at me. “So you down to hang out with your old man today or what?

Nah, it was because you had the Harry Potter movies. What we used to call ourselves? The Hood Trio. Tighter than—” “The inside of Voldemort’s nose. We were so silly for that.

Daddy, you’re the worst person to watch Harry Potter with. The whole time you’re talking about”—I deepen my voice—“‘Why don’t they shoot that nigga Voldemort?’” “Ay, it don’t make sense that in all them movies and books, nobody thought to shoot him.

When we get back, we can watch that Harry Potter shit you like so much.” “Noooooooo.” “What?” he asks. “Daddy, you’re the worst person to watch Harry Potter with. The whole time you’re talking about”—I deepen my voice—“‘Why don’t they shoot that nigga Voldemort?’” “Ay, it don’t make sense that in all them movies and books, nobody thought to shoot him.” “If it’s not that,” Momma says, “you’re giving your ‘Harry Potter is about gangs’ theory.” “It is!” he says. Okay, so it is a good theory. Daddy claims the Hogwarts houses are really gangs. They have their own colors, their own hideouts, and they are always riding for each other, like gangs. Harry, Ron, and Hermione never snitch on one another, just like gangbangers. Death Eaters even have matching tattoos. And look at Voldemort. They’re scared to say his name. Really, that “He Who Must Not Be Named” stuff is like giving him a street name. That’s some gangbanging shit right there. “Y’all know that make a lot of sense,” Daddy says. “Just ’cause they was in England don’t mean they wasn’t gangbanging.

Meditation is food for our inner being. We can live without it, but not well. As we deepen our breath and still our body, our thoughts follow into stillness. As we listen to the beating of our heart, and place it in rhythm with our breath, our emotions come alive, like a black-and-white movie suddenly exploding into colour

Not everyone is naturally artistic like Angie. Those of us who aren’t as creative need to take our hobbies where we can find them, whether that’s doing crafts, or playing video games, or whatever else interests us. Running, watching movies, fantasy football. Anything can be a hobby if we invest enough of ourselves in it.

He’s not just using me for my body,” Megan said. “He’s also using me as Prozac. Yesterday morning, Drew basically told me his life was all bleak like a black-and-white movie, and then I came into the picture and started rocking his world in Technicolor.” “That’s not using someone,” Rory said. “That’s happiness.” “No. It’s like a drug. I’m like a drug. But the effect on a guy only lasts for a while. When the drug high wears off, where does that leave me?” “I don’t think that’s…” Rory trailed off, confused. “You’ve never had a boyfriend, and you’ve never done drugs, so this is all a foreign concept to you. How can I put this in a metaphor you can understand?” Megan thought about it then went with the first idea that popped into her head, as she usually did. “I’m like cheap birthday cake. I’m the corner slice with all the icing. Drew is the greedy kid at the party. He wants me, the chunky corner piece with all the icing, but he’s going to get a stomach ache, and soon, he’s going to want his plain sandwiches again.” Rory looked down, and there was only the sound of the washer and dryer. Finally, she looked up, her eyes sad and hopeful at the same time, and said, “You’re not cake.” “But I’m not exactly Tina, am I? I’m not the marrying kind. I’ll never get a guy as good as Luca. Nobody’s going to sell out the flower shop just to take me on a date. I’m the girl they call to help them fix a flat tire.