Bully Maguire Quotes

Where am I now? I am here, now. That's where I am. Now. If you don't understand, turn yourself around and you speak to the past and speak to the future. What you say matters. What you do matters. Love whom you will cherish them while you have the time, don't' give an inch when the bullies kick at your stilts, Kick back, and then give them a poultice if you've hurt them. The past and future are just window dressing. Where I am is here. I'm busy with a potion that seems to come with this distracting side effect and I better make some corrections before I start hearing violins in the water closet and seeing comets in the chowder. Do you have anything else, or is this just chatter? I hardly think my younger self worth the cost of conversation. Didn't have much to say then and have less to add now, after all this so-called living.

I'm gone, dearie, I'm magicked away in a puff of smoke. Forget it. And you know, that'll be good for Nessarose. She'll be a sort of local queen out there in Nest Hardings." "She apparently did a course in sorcery, did you know? In Shiz?" "No I didn't. Well, bully for her. If she ever comes down off that plinth - the one that has words written on the it along the edges in gold, reading MOST SUPERIOR IN MORAL RECTITUDE - if she ever allows herself to be the bitch she really is, she'll be the Bitch of the East. Nanny and the devoted staff at Colwen Grounds will prop her up." "I thought you were fond of her!" "Don't you know affection when you see it?" scoffed Elphaba. "I love Nessie. She's a pain in the neck, she's intolerably righteous, she's a nasty piece of work. I'm devoted to her." "She'll be the Eminent Thropp." "Better she than I," said Elphaba dryly. "For one thing she has great taste in shoes.

Did she want to be a bride of Maracoor? To learn to submit to the authority of routine? To bully her own feet into bleeding, to give up choice, to take up a mission in which she couldn't yet believe? Even put that way, Rain wasn't sure. Perhaps she did. Perhaps this was what she had been seeking. Passivity. Regularity. A dulling of other pains. Distraction. A further shedding of her identity, even deeper than amnesia had yet achieved. The animal unblinking stillness of a hare in a trap, as the poacher draws near. The paralysis before the inevitable. Choosing death before death chooses you.

By evening, when the winds rose yet again, the power began to stutter at half-strength, and the sirens to fail. From those streetlights whose bulbs hadn't been stoned, a tea-colored dusk settled in uncertain tides. It fell on the dirty militias of pack dogs, all bullying and foaming against one another, and on the abandoned cars, and everything - everything - was flattened, equalized in the gloom of half-light. Like the subjects in a browning photograph in some antique photo album, only these times weren't antique. They were now.

No, I didn’t. Well, bully for her. If she ever comes down off that plinth—the one that has words written on it along the edges in gold, reading MOST SUPERIOR IN MORAL RECTITUDE—if she ever allows herself to be the bitch she really is, she’ll be the Bitch of the East. Nanny and the devoted staff at Colwen Grounds will prop her up.

You've answered your question already. Where am I now? I am here, now. That's where I am. Now. If you don't understand, turn yourself around and you speak to the past and speak to the future. What you say matters. What you do matters. Love whom you will, cherish them while you have the time, don't give an inch when the bullies kick at your stilts. Kick back, and then give them a poultice if you've hurt them. The past and future are just window dressing. Where I am is here. I'm busy with a potion that seems to come with this distracting side effect and I better make some corrections before I start hearing violins in the water closet and seeing comets in the chowder. Do you have anything else, or is this just chatter? I hardly think my younger self worth the cost of conversation. Didn't have much to say then and have less to add now, after all this so-called living.