Ashley Movie Quotes

Later,” I said to the room at large as I didn’t want to appear rude. For some reason this was met by Shirleen saying, "I’ll put money down that she’s living with him in four days.” My confused gaze swung to Shirleen but she was looking at the movie star glamour girl who was looking at me. “Three days,” Glamour girl said, smiling at me and I thought, in other circumstances, I would have liked to meet her. “A week, she’s got spirit,” The other black lady said. She was smiling at me too, not like I was the butt of some joke, but in a kind way. I opened the outer door. Before it closed behind me, I heard Luke say strangely, “Tonight.” Then everyone laughed.

I haven’t bought Jerra flowers since I pissed her off when we were datin’ and fell asleep durin’ some crappy-ass movie she forced me to take her to sayin’ that movie was Hollywood’s version f us. How could I fall asleep watching the story of us, she asks. And, bro, if that was us, we are borin’ as shit.

That’s easy. Gone With the Wind. Although I could slap Scarlett silly for most of the movie. I mean, who would ever choose Ashley over Rhett?

Then I heard a noise I’d never heard in real life before. The kind of noise you hear in movies when horse’s hooves are beating on cobblestones or the members of Monty Python were cracking together coconuts.

You seen the movie Steel Magnolias?” Daisy asked Tex. “Fuck no,” Tex stated the obvious.

Megan, I’m pretty sure none of my family is going to break out into song like in a Bollywood movie tonight,” he said, with amusement ringing in his voice.

Experiencing connecting with someone in a way so meaningful, it shared just how connected all we beings were through a variety of sources. Music. Books. Art. Movies. The tragedy was, most didn’t recognize it and there were some of us with hate in their hearts about things they didn’t understand who would refuse to acknowledge it. I

Luke came out when I slid down the lever on the slice of bread. I heard him moving around but I started at the toaster as if I was certain it would animate and start dancing around like all the stuff in the Beast's house in that Disney movie and I didn't want to miss the show.

Love isn’t like the grand romantic gestures you see in the movie. It isn’t a kiss and happily ever after, no matter how much I’d like it to be. It’s late night texts and tired calls after a long day on location, and heated arguments that end in 3 a.m. Facetimes apologizing to each other. It involves a lot of missing what other couples have-normalcy.

Reading, for me, has always been more like playing a video game than watching a movie, an active experience that used to leave me physically and emotionally wrought.

Are human reactions what they've always been, or has a century or more of movies influenced our response to every stimulus

Experiencing connecting with someone in a way so meaningful, it shared just how connected all we beings were through a variety of sources. Music. Books. Art. Movies.

The movie Ghost,” he explained and I then knew what he was talking about so I grinned back. “Yeah,” I whispered. “Yeah,” he whispered back and his grin became a smile

Keelan looked to Knox. “I have the sudden urge to binge watch all the Superman movies.

I realized now that I was worthy. I deserved the sort of love my kids had with their mates, the type of love in romance books and movies.

You know when you watch a movie and there is always that evil girl that never gets a happy ending? That girl, that is me. I am her. I don't deserve a happily ever after.

And there I sat, eating Tack’s fabulous (really, they were amazing, he was a scary biker but it couldn’t be denied the man could cook) fajitas and watching a movie that scared the absolute crap out of me while sipping wine and wondering how in the hell I was sitting in my very own living room with Tack and his kids eating his fajitas, sipping wine and watching a movie that scared the absolute crap out of me.

Jessica Stone. The Jessica Stone. My costar. As in, indie film poster child, beloved by the internet for being sexy and cute and funny, sure to snag an Oscar one day Jessica Stone. I think I saw her last movie in theaters fifteen times, and not just because it was based on a graphic novel. Don’t fanboy, I order myself. Don’t fanboy. Gail looks at me, surprised. “But Dare, we were—” I cough. Twice. Gail looks between Jessica Stone and me, widens her eyes, and finally gets it. Her ears go even redder. “Oh. Oh.” She grabs her backpack and makes a hasty retreat. “I…um. I’ll be around if you need me, Dare.” After the door closes, Jessica Stone turns her eyes—which are super, freakishly, ice-water blue—to me. “I didn’t mean to intrude.” My tongue ties into ten hundred knots. She can intrude as much as she wants. I mean, not intrude—like, let me politely be in her presence for the rest of my life—but intruding works too. Into my life. As much as she wants. Is that weird? It’s probably weird. But it’s Jessica Stone. Damn it, man, don’t fanboy.

So Eliza walked the path to East Bay Street that summer evening alone, wearing a scoop-neck black dress and her hair in Victory Rolls so that she felt like a dark-haired Ingrid Bergman in that new movie Notorious.

For the first time in years Ashley found herself feeling truly alone. Despite being surrounded by people most of every day, she was unable to connect to them in a way she considered meaningful, and found herself passing through their lives - and her own - in a state of total isolation.

Sucks what happened with that Henry guy, though,” she continued. “I mean, I’m sad for both of you, all that unrequited love for years. It’s like one of those messed up art house movies that you think is going to be this epic love story but ends with no one getting what they wanted and makes you want to go straight to the bar after the movie and down a dozen shots of vodka to forget you saw that shit.

Do human software games have directors?" said Tetsuo. "Like movies?" "Yeah," I said, "if they're real pretentious, like Weapon Eternal." "Af be Hui was the director of A Tower of Sand," said Tetsuo. "She became well-known. High-status. She made seven other games and her games changed history a little bit. I think we should play more of her work." "To what purpose? Did she finally get the Ip Shkoy to calm down about the Constellation?" Ashley wriggled violently and Tetsuo crawled off of her tail. "Purpose?" said Tetsuo. "What is purpose? History is not a trash compactor where you lost something important. You have to spend some time there.

That movie you made me watch, first time at your house. Love and redemption. You said, ‘The most beautiful stories ever told are the most difficult to take.’You said that, Red. Right out. And I knew if you got that, when it was later and I shared my shit with you, you’d get me. I never thought my story was beautiful. I thought it was shit. But you said that and when you did, I saw it. The ride is not over but if I can keep my Club together and find a sweet, feisty woman who’s got my back and enough to her that she’ll stay there, holding me up not dragging me down, I figure I’d find my way to beauty eventually. And I’d find absolution because I’d know, I earned the love of that woman, a woman who’s got so much to her it’ll take years to dig down and find the heart of her, that would be my reward.”Ohmigod. Ohmigod! Ohmigod! Did he just say that? Did. He. Just. Say that? “And you told me,”Tack continued, his face coming closer, “I had that when I first met you.”“I—”“So I was hooked to that shit, I did it, I participated in it, I was loyal to my brothers as I’d vowed I’d be and I pulled me and my Club out of it. I did that but that didn’t erase what we did. You are my absolution.

The same song was playing the second I met my ex–best friend and the moment I realized I’d lost her. I met my best friend at a neighborhood cookout the year we would both turn twelve. It was one of those hot Brooklyn afternoons that always made me feel like I'd stepped out of my life and onto a movie set because the hydrants were open, splashing water all over the hot asphalt. There wasn't a cloud in the flawless blue sky. And pretty black and brown people were everywhere. I was crying. ‘What a Wonderful World’ was playing through a speaker someone had brought with them to the park, and it reminded me too much of my Granny Georgina. I was cupping the last snow globe she’d ever given me in my small, sweaty hands and despite the heat, I couldn’t help imagining myself inside the tiny, perfect, snow-filled world. I was telling myself a story about what it might be like to live in London, a place that was unimaginably far and sitting in the palm of my hands all at once. But it wasn't working. When Gigi had told me stories, they'd felt like miracles. But she was gone and I didn't know if I'd ever be okay again. I heard a small voice behind me, asking if I was okay. I had noticed a girl watching me, but it took her a long time to come over, and even longer to say anything. She asked the question quietly. I had never met anyone who…spoke the way that she did, and I thought that her speech might have been why she waited so long to speak to me. While I expected her to say ‘What’s wrong?’—a question I didn’t want to have to answer—she asked ‘What are you doing?’ instead, and I was glad. “I was kind of a weird kid, so when I answered, I said ‘Spinning stories,’ calling it what Gigi had always called it when I got lost in my own head, but my voice cracked on the phrase and another tear slipped down my cheek. To this day I don’t know why I picked that moment to be so honest. Usually when kids I didn't know came up to me, I clamped my mouth shut like the heavy cover of an old book falling closed. Because time and taught me that kids weren't kind to girls like me: Girls who were dreamy and moony-eyed and a little too nice. Girls who wore rose-tonted glasses. And actual, really thick glasses. Girls who thought the world was beautiful, and who read too many books, and who never saw cruelty coming. But something about this girl felt safe. Something about the way she was smiling as she stuttered out the question helped me know I needn't bother with being shy, because she was being so brave. I thought that maybe kids weren't nice to girls like her either. The cookout was crowded, and none of the other kids were talking to me because, like I said, I was the neighborhood weirdo. I carried around snow globesbecause I was in love with every place I’d never been. I often recited Shakespeare from memory because of my dad, who is a librarian. I lost myself in books because they were friends who never letme down, and I didn’t hide enough of myself the way everyone else did, so people didn’t ‘get’ me. I was lonely a lot. Unless I was with my Gigi. The girl, she asked me if it was making me feel better, spinning the stories. And I shook my head. Before I could say what I was thinking—a line from Hamlet about sorrow coming in battalions that would have surely killed any potential I had of making friends with her. The girl tossed her wavy black hair over her shoulder and grinned. She closed her eyes and said 'Music helps me. And I love this song.' When she started singing, her voice was so unexpected—so bright and clear—that I stopped crying and stared at her. She told me her name and hooked her arm through mine like we’d known each other forever, and when the next song started, she pulled me up and we spun in a slow circle together until we were both dizzy and giggling.

Your belly’s getting big,” he said one night. “I know,” I answered, looking down. It was kind of hard to deny. “I love it,” he said, stroking it with the palm of his hand. I recoiled a little, remembering the black bikini I’d worn on our honeymoon and how comparatively concave my belly looked then, and hoping Marlboro Man had long since put the image out of his mind. “Hey, what are we naming this thing?” he asked, even as the “thing” fluttered and kicked in my womb. “Oh, man…” I sighed. “I have no idea. Zachary?” I pulled it out of my wazoo. “Eh,” he said, uninspired. “Shane?” Oh no. Here go the old movies. “I went to my senior prom with a Shane,” I answered, remembering dark and mysterious Shane Ballard. “Okay, scratch that,” he said. “How about…how about Ashley?” How far was he going to take this? I remembered a movie we’d watched on our fifteenth date or so. “How about Rooster Cogburn?” He chuckled. I loved it when he chuckled. It meant everything was okay and he wasn’t worried or stressed or preoccupied. It meant we were dating and sitting on his old porch and my parents weren’t divorcing. It meant my belly button wasn’t bulbous and deformed. His chuckles were like a drug to me. I tried to elicit them daily. “What if it’s a girl?” I said. “Oh, it’s a boy,” he said with confidence. “I’m positive.” I didn’t respond. How could I argue with that?

He moved well. He looked good. He was tall. He worked on his body and this work was extremely successful. He had a lot of thick, messy black hair. And he had a face that was movie star handsome in a way that, without a doubt, launched a million wedding fantasies, even from women who just caught a glimpse of him walking down the street.

I don’t know how much of St. Yvette you’ve seen so far, but I really think you’ll like the Falls. It’s a ways out of town though, so people sort of forget about it.” “I don’t.” Roo frowned. “I go there a lot.” “And that way we sort of forget about you, too.” Parker spoke up. “So it works out great.” Determined, Ashley kept on. “There’s hardly ever anybody out there. That’s why we like it so much.” “Well, that and the poisonous swamp. And the man-eating diamondback water snakes. Don’t forget those.” In the rearview mirror, Parker’s eyes widened dramatically. “And then one day…the new girl in town went off to the Falls with her friends.” His voice deepened, horror-movie style. “And she was never seen again.” “Parker, will you stop? That’s not funny.

Oooo, I love attics.” Ashley gave a little squirm of anticipation. “Maybe your grandpa has some old trunks up there, do you think? Like attics in the movies? With clothes and old hats and those dressmaker dummies?” Roo drew on her cigarette. “You’re looking for dummies? Don’t tempt me, Ash.” “Well, as tempting as it is to continue this fascinating and stimulating discussion”--Parker grimaced--“I’ve got to get home.” Standing, he pulled Ashley up with him. “I guess we’ll see y’all later?” As the others got to their feet, Ashley gave Miranda a tight hug. “We’re coming tonight. You know, to the wake.” Miranda, once more, was touched. “Look, you guys, I appreciate it--really. But you don’t have to. It’s going to be so depressing.” “We’re coming,” Roo said. “Yeah, Roo likes depressing,” Parker insisted. “She’ll feel right at home.” “Parker, that’s so rude,” Ashley scolded him. “This isn’t anything to joke about.” “Right. Sorry.” The last to leave, Gage paused on the top step to look back at her. “We’ll be there.

Like most women, I grew up with the looking, grew into it. So that even today, alone in the backyard, I can still feel those phantom eyes and shape my body to the audience. Carrying myself in ways that will please them, stretching out gracefully by the pool, back arched, eyes closed against the sun like a woman in a movie, an icon of mystery and elegance, as delicate and unknowable as Keats’s maiden on the Grecian urn.

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Poet Ayoade, the first African immigrant to serve as a nuclear missile operator in the United States Air Force, debuts with an inspirational memoir chronicling his childhood in Nigeria and journey to become a doctor and American citizen. Ayoade, who at the age of seven promised his mother “One day, I will take you far away from here,” details his upbringing with an abusive father and the many family tragedies he endured—along with his dedication to creating a different life: “Underground is my unusual journey from childhood poverty to where I am today. How the impossible became a reality.” Readers will be swept into Ayoade’s vivid recollections of his early years, including his strict education, brushes with death, and a strained relationship with his father. He recounts the family’s passion for American movies that made “America seem like the perfect place,” sparking his desire for a better future, and details his decision to become a veterinarian and eventually pursue a career in the U.S. military to ensure the best life for his family (and future generations). Ayoade’s story is moving, particularly his reconciliation with his father and hard-earned American citizenship, and his message that it’s never too late to chase your dreams resonates. That message will evoke strong emotions for readers as Ayoade highlights the importance of hard work and the benefit of a committed support system, alongside his constant “wishing, praying, and fighting to be free from all the sadness and injustice around me”—a theme that echoes through much of the book, including in his acknowledgement that the fear he experienced as a nuclear missile operator was a “cost of this freedom.” Ayoade’s poetry and personal photographs are sprinkled throughout, illuminating his deep love for family and his ultimate belief in liberty as “The reason for it all./ A foundation for a new generation,/ The best gift to any child.” Takeaway: This stirring memoir documents an immigrant’s fight for the American dream. Great for fans of: Ashley C. Ford’s Somebody's Daughter, Maria Hinojosa’s Once I Was You. Production grades Cover: A- Design and typography: A Illustrations: A Editing: A Marketing copy: A

It’s always the nice guy,” Ashley said. “Again, I don’t really read, but I’ve seen a lot of movies, and that’s even better. Whoever seems like the nicest character, at first, will always turn out to be the asshole in the end.

You can turn my room into anything you want. Even a red room, if you want." "A red...?" Mom began. Dad said, "Is that the sex dungeon in that movie?" "FRED!" Mom shrieked, and then said, "Well, that is an idea..." My father said with a sigh that weighed about as much as all thirty-five years of their marriage, "Fine. You can put your exercise bike in there—but we're keeping the bed.

Don’t you think I should at least know your name before I go running off with you. Which no offense, but I’m not doing. I’ve seen enough lifetime movies to know not to go running off with a stranger at a college party.

If life were a movie, this was the part where you’d start the music montage. Some sappy song would be playing while they flashed to Ashley and me sharing lunch, talking, laughing, looking coy, holding hands—and ending with that first chaste kiss. That

Every scrape, site, range and page; every game, download, hack, song, movie and virrie on the Web. Everything on your phone. Everything on your 'puta. Even the content directories of your cupboards. Almost every system has been brute-forced; passwords cracked, firewalls breached. Nothing has been left untouched.

On the TV he found cartoons and movies, music videos and game shows, repeat broadcasts and reruns, but there was nothing current, and no news. Many channels were just blank, or displayed brightly coloured test cards.

All my life, since I could remember, I wanted to be a cop. That’s all I ever wanted to be. Watched the shows on TV, all the movies. I wanted that to be me. So I made that me. I love my job. I’m proud of what I do. And ever since I knew about girls and knew I’d someday have one of my own, I knew the kind I wanted. Just like knowin’ I wanted to be a cop, I knew the kind of woman I wanted for me. So I found that woman and she’s sittin’ on this couch.

I'm not a big believer in most things occult,' Halina said. "But I do believe the world is a more mysterious place than we often recognize - or care to admit. If there is some natural power in the earth under us, some magnetic current yet undiscovered, and if there are individuals who can tap it, then they're probably those men we say have charisma. Not silly movie stars or singers, not the cheap charisma of entertainers. I'm speaking now of those with great charisma, the power to infect enormous numbers of others with their ego-driven fantasies. Hitler. Stalin. Mao.

Sometimes when I sleep the girls play like old seventies home movies in my head, flickering and jerky, saturated with color that always look slightly artificial – –twirling through that insurance office, taking candy off the old ladies' desks as they titter and pretend not to notice. Rebecca is such a scamp. –double-bouncing on the trampoline. A girl's laughter. Not mine. Do it again! Do it again, I beg. Sure thing, Sammy! –the unforgiving press of the pew against my back, my head bent in prayer. Pastor Elijah tugs the sleeve of my sweater down to cover the bruises. Keep sweet, Haley. –the stifling air in Joseph's house. How my skin prickles when I step inside the first time. Don't you want to be a good girl, Katie? –the sand under my bare feet. The knife in my hand. Raymond's body feet away. The plan to get me out depends on it. What are you capable of, Ashley?

I’m so in love with you, it feels unreal sometimes. Like maybe it’s a dream, and I made it all up. Basically, my entire life, I thought I was content by myself. I thought maybe being in love wasn’t for me because I’ve never felt anything close to it. I thought the movies and the books and the TV shows were overly exaggerated and, surely, there’s no way people actually felt like that in real life. The jittery feeling. The butterflies. The endless hope that sits in your chest when you look at them and think about your future.

Experiencing connecting with someone in a way so meaningful, it shared just how connected all we beings were through a variety of sources. Music. Books. Art. Movies. The tragedy was, most didn’t recognize it and there were some of us with hate in their hearts about things they didn’t understand who would refuse to acknowledge it.

And I want her to have more. I want her to have kids and me and a life. Drinks with her girls or making movies, or I don’t know and I don’t give a fuck, just as long as she’s the kind of woman who needs it and goes after it and gets it. I wanna get pissed and I wanna be challenged and I wanna be surprised and I want my balls busted and I want my mind blown and I wanna laugh a lot. I want it all, Dad. I want what you got, but I want it my way and I want it to be all mine.

Especially when it came to slasher or home invasion horror movies. They triggered episodes of PTSD.

Ashley Sparks.

This is how horror movies start,” Charlotte said, clutching her stomach. “Or end. The girl in the woods. Everyone knows she’s a goner.” “She’s only a goner because the writers make her out to be an idiot. We’re not idiots.” “Okay, thrillers, then. Women just vanish, disappear, and they’re not idiots. Women’s bodies are not okay in thrillers... ...Bad things happen all the time to non-idiots, and this is the setting. This is where it all goes down.