C'mon C'mon Quotes

Have you ever seen anything quite as pathetic?" said Malfoy. "And he’s supposed to be our teacher!" Harry and Ron both made furious moves toward Malfoy, but Hermione got there first - SMACK! She had slapped Malfoy across the face with all the strength she could muster. Malfoy staggered. Harry, Ron, Crabbe, and Goyle stood flabbergasted as Hermione raised her hand again. "Don’t you dare call Hagrid pathetic you foul—you evil—" "Hermione!" said Ron weakly and he tried to grab her hand as she swung it back. "Get off Ron!" Hermione pulled out her wand. Malfoy stepped backward. Crabbe and Goyle looked at him for instructions, thoroughly bewildered. "C’mon," Malfoy muttered, and in a moment, all three of them had disappeared into the passageway to the dungeons. "Hermione!" Ron said again, sounding both stunned and impressed.

I am surprised how difficult for people is to say "I love you". They only say the three magic words when they are sure they will hear "I love you too" back. C'mon! Spread the energy of love without expecting anything! Cowards are incapable of expressing love; it is the prerogative of the brave

C’mon,” he said. “One foot in front of the other. You know how it’s done” “You’re interfering with my plan.” “Oh really?” “Yes. Faint, get trampled, grievous injuries all around.” “That sounds like a brilliant plan.” “Ah, but if I’m horribly maimed, I won’t be able to cross the Fold.” Mal nodded slowly. “I see. I can shove you under a cart if that would help.

It's like Brad Pitt for us. You might not like blond men with pretty features, but c'mon, it's Brad. You're not going to kick him out of bed for eating crackers.

Who shall I shoot? You choose. Now, listen very carefully: where's your coffee? You've got coffee, haven't you? C'mon, everyone's got coffee! Spill the beans!

Baby you're a firework, c'mon show 'em what you're worth..." ~Firework

C’mon, Anne. We must defend our fake sex life.

C'mon, Tabitha. You stabbed me the night we met without even blinking. (Valerius) Yeah, but you were a dirtbag then. (Tabitha) I think I'm offended. (Valerius)

C’mon good girl, be bad.

C’mon, Tally. Don’t you want your clothes, your keys? Oh wait, how about some dignity? (Kyrian)

I’ll say, G’day to you, Mr. Ryan!” Catherine said as she quickly closed the door in his face. “Oh, the arrogance,” she growled under her breath, leaning her back up against the closed door. “He thinks he’s so irresistible with his rugged good looks and sexy accent.” “I’m standing right here, and I can hear you!” came Jake’s muffled words from the other side of the door. “Oh, c’mon love. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I was offending you.

I was asking if unwinding kills you, or if it leaves you alive somehow. C'mon—it's not like we haven't thought about it." (...) What do you think, Connor?" asks Hayden. "What hap­pens to your soul when you get unwound?" Who says I even got one?" For the sake of argument, let's say you do." Who says I want an argument?

Guy? Mister? Mr. Goth Man, would you please wake up so I can leave? I really don't want to hang out in a closet with a dead man any longer than I have to, okay? C'mon, please, don't make this a Weekend at Bernie's thing! (Amanda)

But then I think about my sister and what a shell-less turtle she was and how she wanted me to be one too. C'mon, Lennie, she used to say to me at least ten times a day. C'mon Len. And that makes me feel better, like it's her life rather than her death that is now teaching me how to be, who to be.

Oh, poo, we can’t let the heifer-goddess die. Akri will die too if he can’t eat from her. C’mon, Xirena, you gots to help the Simi protect the bitch-goddess. (Simi)

C’mon, it’ll be fun,” I say, grabbing his hand and tugging him towards a little area along the canal where several gondolas wait. Behind me the Bargainer says, “I’ll only agree to this if you do me one favor—” Me do him a favor? “Yeah, anything.” “Please give me my balls back at the end of the evening.” Present

C'mon, Amy, cinnamon rolls are calling us." Dan put a hand to his ear. "Do you hear? 'Amy? Dan?'" he squeaked. "'Come and get my sugary, sticky goodness!

So you do have more fight in you. (Thanatos) Looks like the devil just hiked his ass up to Alaska to see the snow. C’mon, punk, let’s dance. (Zarek)

Nice girl who knew cars. Wow. I stared at her face harder, wishing I knew how to make it work. C’mon, Jake – imprint already.

C'mon. We can turn it into a fun game - What's Scarier, The Basement Or The Attic?

C'mon kid. Think a minute, even if it hurts.

She's your lobster. C'mon you guys. It's a known fact that lobsters fall in love and mate for life. You can actually see old lobster couples, walking around their tank, you know, holding claws". ...

C’mon wife. Play along.

Desi, Desi, Desi what am I going to do with you? (Kyrian) Don't you dare take that flippant tone with me! (Desiderius) Why ever not? (Kyrian) Because I am not some scared little Daimon to run cringing from you. I am your worst nightmare. (Desiderius) Must you resort to cliches? C'mon, Desidisastrous, couldn't you think of anything more original than that B-movie dialogue staple? (Kyrian)

It's not having what you want, it's wanting what you have!

C'mon, you're gonna get upset sometimes. Breaking up is a shitty business. Someone always gets hurt. This time it happens to be you.

Shepley walked out of his bedroom pulling a T-shirt over his head. His eyebrows pushed together. “Did they just leave?” “Yeah,” I said absently, rinsing my cereal bowl and dumping Abby’s leftover oatmeal in the sink. She’d barely touched it. “Well, what the hell? Mare didn’t even say goodbye.” “You knew she was going to class. Quit being a cry baby.” Shepley pointed to his chest. “I’m the cry baby? Do you remember last night?” “Shut up.” “That’s what I thought.” He sat on the couch and slipped on his sneakers. “Did you ask Abby about her birthday?” “She didn’t say much, except that she’s not into birthdays.” “So what are we doing?” “Throwing her a party.” Shepley nodded, waiting for me to explain. “I thought we’d surprise her. Invite some of our friends over and have America take her out for a while.” Shepley put on his white ball cap, pulling it down so low over his brows I couldn’t see his eyes. “She can manage that. Anything else?” “How do you feel about a puppy?” Shepley laughed once. “It’s not my birthday, bro.” I walked around the breakfast bar and leaned my hip against the stool. “I know, but she lives in the dorms. She can’t have a puppy.” “Keep it here? Seriously? What are we going to do with a dog?” “I found a Cairn Terrier online. It’s perfect.” “A what?” “Pidge is from Kansas. It’s the same kind of dog Dorothy had in the Wizard of Oz.” Shepley’s face was blank. “The Wizard of Oz.” “What? I liked the scarecrow when I was a little kid, shut the fuck up.” “It’s going to crap every where, Travis. It’ll bark and whine and … I don’t know.” “So does America … minus the crapping.” Shepley wasn’t amused. “I’ll take it out and clean up after it. I’ll keep it in my room. You won’t even know it’s here.” “You can’t keep it from barking.” “Think about it. You gotta admit it’ll win her over.” Shepley smiled. “Is that what this is all about? You’re trying to win over Abby?” My brows pulled together. “Quit it.” His smile widened. “You can get the damn dog…” I grinned with victory. “…if you admit you have feelings for Abby.” I frowned in defeat. “C’mon, man!” “Admit it,” Shepley said, crossing his arms. What a tool. He was actually going to make me say it. I looked to the floor, and everywhere else except Shepley’s smug ass smile. I fought it for a while, but the puppy was fucking brilliant. Abby would flip out (in a good way for once), and I could keep it at the apartment. She’d want to be there every day. “I like her,” I said through my teeth. Shepley held his hand to his ear. “What? I couldn’t quite hear you.” “You’re an asshole! Did you hear that?” Shepley crossed his arms. “Say it.” “I like her, okay?” “Not good enough.” “I have feelings for her. I care about her. A lot. I can’t stand it when she’s not around. Happy?” “For now,” he said, grabbing his backpack off the floor.

Because if I don’t, Fang will die. (Aimee) Are you high? (Dev) No. (Aimee) C’mon, Aim, admit it. Heavy amounts of drugs are involved here. (Dev)

Now c'mon - if we die, we die cool.

C’mon, sweetie, you can say it. (Delphine) (She moved his mouth playfully with her hands.) You don’t suck, Delphine. I…you. C’mon, Jericho. I only bite in the bedroom. You can do this. I know you’re not really mute. (Delphine)

C'mon Pudge. I'm teasing. You have to be tough. I didn't know how bad it was-- and I'm sorry, and they'll regret it-- but you have to be tough.

Why would you clone people when you can go to bed with them and make a baby? C'mon, it's stupid.

C’mon, Mare. I wish I could say I’m sorry, but I’m married to the love of my life.

c'mon now, honey, don't be mad at me. I don't mean to lie, I just remember big.

C'mon, Mee,' Henry said. 'You're among family.' 'Totally,' Kim said.

Okay," Coach Hedge whispered. "Here's the plan-" Leo elbowed him " You are not charging him alone!" "Aw, c'mon.

It’s a brilliant song! C’mon…’Every day is like survival. You’re my lover, not my rival.’ What could be more meaningful than that? (Jesse)

C'mon, lets get out of here. It's too dark. Besides, its more fun if I can see you while you're bitching me out.

Do you have any idea how much I love you?” “Yeah, I’d say I have a pretty good idea.” Leia mock-punched him in the arm, and Han chuckled. “C’mon. You know I love you, too.” “Yes,” she said as she tilted her mouth up for a kiss. “I know.” —

C'mon on down to the Whiff and Spit; snuff it up and cough it out," Lewis chanted, giving it a catchy rhythem.

Flowers said, “I got two bottles of water in the car.” “Get them. And get your gun,” Lucas said. “The gun? You think?” “No. I just like to see you wearing the fuckin’ gun for a change,” Lucas said. “C’mon, let’s get moving.

I'm working! What are you doing? Besides being... Being what? Wait a minute... Sarcastic? Unfeeling? British? It's an animal. Where? No, the word! Still you have to admit, I am... very British. I don't say hard R's. You know what I like? Brown sauce. What's it made of? Science doesn't know! It's made of brown. Brown. Mined from the earth by the hardscrabble brown miners of North Brownderton. Oh, my God. I find lentils completely incomprehensible. What the sun-dappled hell is Echo doing at Fremont? That's got nothing to do with the drug, which means our problems are huge and indomitable. Ooh. I could eat that word. Or a crisp. Do you have any crisps? You haven't seen my drawer of inappropriate starches? C'mon, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon! Oh my god, I'm having such a terrible day.

One night I heard my dad say to my mom: I can't help but think of the good times we're having now as being painful memories later on. And my mom saying, c'mon now honey.

C'mon, Paul," she says. "We all know love makes you do stupid things.

All right, everyone. Fess up. Who just shat in their pants? C’mon. Admit it. I know I did and I’m wolf enough to own it.” – Sasha

I wanna be with you,” he pushed, his big brown eyes almost pleading. “C’mon, Mol. I need you. Tell me you get me. Tell me you’re as fuckin’ into me as I am you.

C´mon, Manchester, ´says singer Boy George, ´I thought you were supposed to be hip?´ No, we´re just automaton snobs with an excess of intolerance -- you really must forgive us.

Good morning. I'm tired. I bet you're tired. But we're awake and alive and that's enough. C'mon. C'mon. Good night. I'm tired. I bet you're tired. But we're awake and alive and that's enough. C'mon. C'mon.

Latter-day capitalism. Like it or not, it's the society we live in. Even the standard of right and wrong has been subdi-vided, made sophisticated. Within good, there's fashionable good and unfash-ionable good, and ditto for bad. Within fashionable good, there's formal and then there's casual; there's hip, there's cool, there's trendy, there's snobbish. Mix 'n' match. Like pulling on a Missoni sweater over Trussardi slacks and Pollini shoes, you can now enjoy hybrid styles of morality. It's the way of the world—philosophy starting to look more and more like business administration. Although I didn't think so at the time, things were a lot simpler in 1969. All you had to do to express yourself was throw rocks at riot police. But with today's sophistication, who's in a position to throw rocks? Who's going to brave what tear gas? C'mon, that's the way it is. Everything is rigged, tied into that massive capital web, and beyond this web there's another web. Nobody's going anywhere. You throw a rock and it'll come right back at you.

C’mon, friend. It’s two on one. You sure don’t look like you’re up to those odds. (Stranger) You can’t be talking to me. I don’t have prokas for friends. And I assure you I could gut you both before your stench had time to catch up to your fall. (Syn)

All right, everyone. Fess up. Who just shat in their pants? C'mon. Admit it." He raised his hand. I know I did and I'm wolf enough to own it." Jess ignored him. "Are you all right?" he asked Abigail. She was still a little too pale for his tastes. "I think I'm going to own Sasha's question. Definitely put me on your list.

C'mon you apes, you wanna' live forever?

C’mon, Jennie. Dance with me.” Her grin is a slow explosion, lighting her whole face as all that apprehension fades away. “You’ll dance for me?” “I’ll do anything for you.

I almost did it. I almost ripped my own slip off and threw him onto the bed. But then he said, “C’mon, baby, you know you want to.” And it became perfectly clear just how many times Rex had tried this before with countless other women. Never let anyone make you feel ordinary.

C’mon, what is bad for the heart is good for art. The terrible irony of our lives as artists.

C’mon, Devyn, move already. You’re like watching ice freeze. You keep this pace up and my grandkids will be able to finish the game for you. (Young Adron) Shut the fuck up, Adron, I’m thinking. (Young Devyn) Yeah, I can see the smoke coming out of your ears. What? You strip a gear or something trying to think? Want me to call Vik over to take your turn for you? (Young Adron)

He says, "C'mon, baby," and lies on top of you. You're not sure he'd listen if you said no one more time. And you're not sure you want to find out the answer. You're not sure you could bear it. "OK, fine, if you have to," you say.

C'mon, Amory. Your romance is over You don't know how true you spoke. No idea. 'At's the whole trouble

C'mon, let's get out of here. I have a future to attend to.

Valentine's day: one day day to celebrate love, friendship, give hugs and say sweet things to your loved ones? C'mon, I need an entire year of that!

So, daddy, huh? C’mon Blue-Eyes, don’t be like that. You kept screaming ‘more’ and it was the dirtiest thing I could think of.

C’mon, you know you want to be the star to my burst.

Although I didn't think so at the time, things were a lot simpler in 1969. All you had to do to express yourself was throw rocks at riot police. But with today's sophistication, who's in a position to throw rocks? Who's going to brave what tear gas? C'mon, that's the way it is. Everything is rigged, tied into that massive capital web, and beyond this web there's another web. Nobody's going anywhere. You throw a rock and it'll come right back at you.

I tried to step back quickly but James grabbed my hand. "C'mon," he said "this'll be fun." Geez... What's your definition of fun? Cuz mines not to possibly get killed my first day here. Or maybe that's just a personal goal, but still...

Soft hearts don’t survive here.” “What kinds of hearts do?” He leaned down until their eyes were level. “Hearts with teeth.” He reached out and gently gripped her chin in his hand, rubbing the pad of his thumb across her full, bottom lip. She was frozen in place. “C’mon, angel, show me your teeth.

There were once two sisters who shared the same room, the same clothes, the same thoughts at the same moment. These two sisters did not have a mother but they had each other. The older sister walked ahead of the younger so the younger one always knew where to go. The older one took the younger to the river where they floated on their backs like dead men. The older girl would say: Dunk your head under a few inches, then open your eyes and look up at the sun The younger girl: I'll get water up my nose The older: C'mon, do it and so the younger girl did it and her whole world filled with light.

Oh, sorry, am I being difficult?” Rich asked. “I’m not good with people. Sometimes I’m difficult. I wish people would just tell me. Anyway, the Taiyang Shen is critical. In fact, my idea won’t work without it. But a Mars probe? Pfft. C’mon.” “All right,” Venkat said. “What’s your idea?” Rich snatched a paper from the desk. “Here it is!” He handed it to Venkat with a childlike smile. Venkat took the summary and skimmed it. The more he read, the wider his eyes got. “Are you sure about this?” “Absolutely!” Rich beamed. “Have you told anyone else?” “Who would I tell?” “I don’t know,” Venkat said. “Friends?” “I don’t have any of those.” “Okay, keep it under your hat.” “I don’t wear a hat.” “It’s just an expression.” “Really?” Rich said. “It’s a stupid expression.” “Rich, you’re being difficult.” “Ah. Thanks.

C'mon," I said, choosing to ignore his statement of the bloody obvious.

C'mon, take a load off....I won't bite.

C’mon Bilbo, where’s your sense of adventure?

C’mon. It’s only until tomorrow morning. I’ll take care of it. I

Does it occur to you that if he set his mind to it, Steve could be a truly excellent supervillain?” Clint said into the comm unit, not bothering with any sort of segue. He knew very well who it was. “We have a contingency plan in place for that,” Coulson said without missing a beat. In the background, Steve said, “Wait, what?” “Oh, c'mon.” Stark sounded seriously insulted. “If anyone here is going to go the black leather and weather control ray route, it's gonna be me, let's not even kid ourselves.” “Every active SHIELD employee has a wallet card instructing them what to do in the event you go supervillain, Stark. It's standard equipment.” A beat of silence. “What?” Tony asked. “I got one,” Bruce said. “Want to see it?” “If you show it to him, it'll defeat the purpose of having a plan,” Natasha said. “And I like this plan, it's a good plan, I do not want to go through them trying to come up with something else.” “Yes, I want to see it,” Tony said. “Thor, did you get a card?” “Verily. Their plan is most sound. I believe we will be able to subdue you with great swiftness, before you have much chance to hurt yourself or others. The damage to property will, of course, be massive, but such things are to be expected.” “What the hell? You will not be able to subdue me quickly. Screw you, I am wily and brilliant.” “I didn't get one,” Steve said, and there was a loud sound of no one being surprised. “It's not a good idea to warn the bait that-” Clint started...

Emily, do not sleep!’ Emily’s eyes flashed open. Fawn was twisted around on the stallion’s back and shaking her. ‘I – I’m awake. Thanks. I’m just so tired.’ ‘Hey, Em,’ Joel called, struggling to be heard over the whooshing of the Solar Stream. ‘Sing along with me.’ His deep voice rose clear and loud: ‘Ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall, ninety-nine bottles of beer. If one of those bottles should happen to fall, there’d be ninety-eight bottles of beer on the wall . . .’ Joel looked back at Paelen. ‘C’mon, it’s easy. Sing to keep Emily awake!’ ‘Wait,’ Paelen cried. He flew closer to Joel to be heard. ‘Why are there ninety-nine bottles of beer on a wall? What wall? And what caused one to fall?’ ‘It doesn’t matter – just shut up and sing!’ Joel ordered.

Wait,” I cleared my throat. “He eats the cows?” “What else would he do with them?” Morgan put his empty brownie plate with the rest of the trash. “I thought he had the cows because of his wife.” “He does.” “Then how can he eat them?” “What do you think they were going to do with the first cow?” “I don’t know, I just thought, well… I don’t know what I thought, but it sure wasn’t grinding them up and making burgers. That just seems wrong.” “Why?” “They remind him of his wife.” “And she ran a restaurant. C’mon, Grant, this is real life, not a Hallmark movie. Man’s gotta eat.

c’mon, delete all negative thoughts, Carole, release the past and look to the future with positivity and the lightness of a child unencumbered by emotional baggage life is an adventure to be embraced with an open mind and loving heart

Oh. C’mon, pretty girl. I like it when ya scream.” The leader breathed into my ear. I spat as good as I could on his hand. He jumped back glaring. I said, “Funny. You like it when I scream? Yet you cover my mouth!” I laughed then winced.

The truth was that upsilamba was one of Nabokovs fascinating creations, possibly a word he invented. I said I associate Upsilamba with the impossible joy of a suspended leap. Yassi, who seemed excited for no particular reason, cried out that she always thought it could be a name of a dance- you know, "C'mon, baby, do the Upsilamba with me". Manna suggested that the word upsilamba evoked the image of small silver fish leaping in and out of a moonlit lake. Nima added in parentheses, Just so you won't forget me, although you have barred me from your class: an upsilamba to you too! For Azin it was a sound, a melody. Mahashid described an image of three girls jumping rope and shouting" Upsilamba" with each leap. For Sanaz, the word was a small African boy's secret magical name. Mitra wasn't sure why the word reminded her of the paradox of a blissful sigh. And for Nassrin it was a magic code that opened the door to a secret cave filled with treasures.

We have only minimal control over the rewards for our work and effort—other people’s validation, recognition, rewards. So what are we going to do? Not be kind, not work hard, not produce, because there is a chance it wouldn’t be reciprocated? C’mon. Think of all the activists who will find that they can only advance their cause so far. The leaders who are assassinated before their work is done. The inventors whose ideas languish “ahead of their time.” According to society’s main metrics, these people were not rewarded for their work. Should they have not done it? Yet in ego, every one of us has considered doing precisely that. If that is your attitude, how do you intend to endure tough times? What if you’re ahead of the times? What if the market favors some bogus trend? What if your boss or your clients don’t understand? It’s far better when doing good work is sufficient. In other words, the less attached we are to outcomes the better. When fulfilling our own standards is what fills us with pride and self-respect. When the effort—not the results, good or bad—is enough. With ego, this is not nearly sufficient. No, we need to be recognized. We need to be compensated. Especially problematic is the fact that, often, we get that. We are praised, we are paid, and we start to assume that the two things always go together. The “expectation hangover” inevitably ensues.

Oh C'mon. Can you ever "solve" poverty? Can you ever "solve" crime? Can you ever "solve" disease, unemployment, war or any other societal herpes? Hell no. All you can hope for is to make them manageable enough to allow people to get on with their lives. That's not cynicism, that's maturity. You can't stop the rain. All you can do is just build a roof that you hope won't leak, or at least leak on the people who are gonna vote for you.

He was astonished to discover that I actually preferred the Special Edition version of the original Star Wars trilogy. He shook his head, eyes widened in mock horror. “I can’t even—” “Oh c’mon. Three words: better special effects.” His expression grew dead serious. “Three words: Greedo shoots first.” I grimaced. “Okay, you have a point there, but I’m not going to change my mind just because of that one little thing—” “One little thing?!” His mouth dropped. “That one moment changed the entire characterization of Han Solo.

Girl, you're as hot as your temper, And you won't let me through. But I think you would be good for me. I know I'd be good for you. Oh, but then that night at the lake, You said we'd be a mistake. But you're wrong there, honey. I'm a chance you wanna take. Do you want me to beg you? Do you want me to say please? Then this song is the rest of my pride, girl, This song is me down on my knees. Just give in, give in to me, girl. I'll give you everything I've got. I won't give up, give up on you, girl, Till you're giving me a shot. So go on, pretend you can fight it, Walk away like I'm not in your head. Brush me off like I never cross your mind At night as you lay down in bed. Till you're giving me a shot. C'mon, girl, give me a shot, One shot. I'll give you everything I've got...

C’mon, sweetness. You don’t have to run. I won’t hurt you.” A pause, as though he was contemplating. “Much.” he amended, punctuating this last with a high-pitched tittering laugh that seemed to settle at the base of her neck like a giant insect, making her grind her teeth.

See the stars, Lily?" She sighed, surrendering. "Of course." "Do you think they can see the sun coming up?" "I don't know. Probably?" "Do you think they're scared?" "They're burning balls of gas, Calder." "Oh, c'mon. Where's the poet in you?" She exhaled, and I sensed her smile. "I see. Well, in that case, yes. They've finally come home. They are triumphant in their midnight kingdom. But the enemy approaches. They have the numbers on their side, but the enemy is bigger, stronger, with a history of winning that goes back to the dawn of time. They're definitvely terrified." I nodded. She understood my analogy. "But they don't run, Calder.

Oh c'mon. Can you ever "solve" poverty? Can you ever "solve" crime? Can you ever ""solve" disease, unemployment, war, or any other societal herpes? Hell no. All you can hope for is to make them manageable enough to allow people to get on with their lives. All you can do is just build a roof that you hope won't leak, or at least won't leak on the people who are gonna vote for you.

C’mon! Anything over eight inches is strictly for show-and-tell. It’s there, but you can’t use it. It might look good in a locker room, but let’s face it—those extra two inches are leftovers.” “Leftovers,” Luna gasped, holding her stomach and shrieking with laughter. “Let’s hear it for l-leftovers!

Can’t you get flowers from the evil flower shop?” “Yes,” I whispered, “but then they’d be evil flowers. C’mon, Bentley, try to keep up.” “You know that charming tic, Daniel, where you start making jokes in a dangerous situation, and we all pretend we don’t know you’re doing it in order to cover up how nervous you are?” “What about it?” I asked. “I was just asking if you were aware of it.” “Nope,” I said.

Here’s the painful pattern that emerged from my research with men: We ask them to be vulnerable, we beg them to let us in, and we plead with them to tell us when they’re afraid, but the truth is that most women can’t stomach it. In those moments when real vulnerability happens in men, most of us recoil with fear and that fear manifests as everything from disappointment to disgust. And men are very smart. They know the risks, and they see the look in our eyes when we’re thinking, C’mon! Pull it together. Man up. As Joe Reynolds, one of my mentors and the dean at our church, once told me during a conversation about men, shame, and vulnerability, “Men know what women really want. They want us to pretend to be vulnerable. We get really good at pretending.

Bowe leans forward on the table and moves his drink out of the way. “This guy, the Inner Game of Tennis guy, he talks about two selves. Self 1 and Self 2. Self 1 says, ‘C’mon, Huntley! Get it together!’ Self 2 is the Huntley who’s supposed to be doing the getting it together.” I say, “I get you so far.” “Self 2 is doing all the work, right? Self 2 is going to win you the game. Self 2 is the hero. Self 1 just yells and gets frustrated and gets in the way.

NEWT: That’s all very well, Dumbledore, but, forgive me for asking, why can’t you go? They stop. DUMBLEDORE: I can’t move against Grindelwald. It has to be you. (beat) Well, I don’t blame you, in your shoes I’d probably refuse too. It’s late. Good evening, Newt. DUMBLEDORE Disapparates. NEWT: Oh c’mon! DUMBLEDORE’S empty glove reappears and tucks the business card bearing the address of the safe house into NEWT’S top pocket. NEWT (exasperated): Dumbledore.

By the time I got to the phone and dialed John's number, I was out of breath with excitement. "You are not going to believe this," I blurted out. "What's the matter?" Hr sounded concerned. "Are you sitting down?" "Yeah, sure, Pattie. What's wrong?" God only knows what John was thinking at this point. "GOD IS REAL!" I practically shouted in his ear. I waited for John to react in a dramatic way, almost disbelieving way. I expected him to say, "No way! C'mon! Get out of town!" After all, I thought I was telling him something he didn't already know, something that would turn his world upside down like it did mine.

So you never really tried to solve the problem. Oh, c’mon. Can you ever “solve” poverty? Can you ever “solve” crime? Can you ever “solve” disease, unemployment, war, or any other societal herpes? Hell no. All you can hope for is to make them manageable enough to allow people to get on with their lives. That’s not cynicism, that’s maturity. You can’t stop the rain. All you can do is just build a roof that you hope won’t leak, or at least won’t leak on the people who are gonna vote for you. What does that mean? C’mon… Seriously. What does that mean? Fine, whatever, “Mister Smith goes to motherfuckin’ Washington,” it means that, in politics, you focus on the needs of your power base. Keep them happy, and they keep you in office.

Hey,Nik." I turned around to see Cole, dressed head to toe in black. Black suit, black shirt,black tie hanging loose around his neck. He looked me up and down. His gaze paused briefly on my legs, and his mouth opened slightly. I folded my arms. "Um...you...look beautiful," he said. "You look black," I replied. "Thank you.That's the look I was going for." He held a hand out. "C'mon. Let's dance." I didn't move. "What were you going to show me?" "Dance with me first." I shook my head. "Look,Nik, I know you don't like public scrutiny lately. If you stand off to the side,all mopey and such, without a date,you'll stick out like a nun at a strip club." He leaned in. "Trust me, I've seen one. A nun at a strip club, that is.Everyone was staring at her.

We recently graduated from school, and the mayor gave us one last little school assignment. We had to write about our chosen profession. Twenty pages, too. Now, I love my village and all, and have absolutely zero regrets about becoming a warrior, but dude, c'mon. Who wants to write twenty pages about anything? Luckily, Runt thought of a way for us to avoid writing so much without breaking the rules, and every other student copied Runt's idea. Needless to say, the mayor wasn't too thrilled about that. Guess that's why Runt is back to crafting potato-based food items." Resisting the urge to ask 'What's a potato?', I nodded. "Hmm. Do you think I'll be able to speak with him?" "Probably,

So…you're not going to tell me what they mean? C'mon. What's the Hob? Why Forks?” When I stand, I switch to my blatantly rude, you're-an-idiot tone. This is the one that always pisses off my mom. To be sure he's not missing my insult this time, I also cross my arms and speak very slowly like I'm speaking to a toddler. “The Hob is from The Hunger Games books. It's the underground market where the characters trade food and information. Forks would be the town in Twilight. The setting. In boy-speak, Forks equals the planet Tatooine for Star Wars. You know—Anakin Skywalker's childhood home? Or are you not familiar with any global blockbusters? I suppose I could use Sesame Street or Pokémon for a reference—if it would help you understand better?” Bam. That should seal it. I couldn't have sounded more like a total bitch. He nods. “No, I've got it. My bedroom was Tatooine for all of third and fourth grade. Boy-speak…that's funny.” He laughs again, and it sounds warm and—and—not at all offended!

Now, this is my little public service announcement: If you get invited to something, it's incumbent upon you to RSVP as soon as possible. A quick “no” is better than a long “maybe.” People go to a lot of trouble to plan a party, and it's a big deal to open up your home. What's more, it's essential to show up if you say you will. I have a busy life, but I still don't cancel unless it's a superduper emergency – I'm talking hospital-visit, in-the-newspapers-the-next-day emergency. Being tired just isn't a good enough excuse. C'mon! Make an effort! One trick I use to determine whether or not to say yes to an invite is: Would I want to go right then and there? If the party were that second, would I get dressed and rush out of the house to go to the party? If the answer is yes, I probably do want to go, but if the answer is no, I don't accept the invitation.

Father... this Institute, which you have denied with all of your might... ... is the place where I've lived, grown and been reborn. I have become a different chef... ... a different person! "All right! Time for the clincher, don'tcha think? You've already swiped a ton from me, so why not finish the job? Go on and say it!" "You can't be serious?! Must I?" "C'mon! Who else could close this out but our Captain? Do it!" "Ugh. Fine. If you insist." "THE WINNER IS... THE RESISTANCE!" "HAPPY TO SERVE!

Frank sniffed. 'You know me well, wife. I thought those were in the basement.' 'They were. You should have been an English teacher, Frank.' 'What are we going to do?' Henry asked. 'We're going to build a wooden horse, stick you inside it, and offer it up as a gift,' Frank answered. 'Burn your bridges when you come to them,' Dotty said. She smiled at Frank, picked up the empty plates, and walked back into the kitchen. 'Can we watch?' Henrietta asked. 'You,' Frank said, 'can go play in the barn, the yard, the fields, or the ditches, so long as you are nowhere near the action. C'mon, Henry.' The girls moaned and complained while Henry followed his uncle up the stairs. At the top, they walked all the way around the landing until they faced the very old, very wooden door to Grandfather's bedroom. Uncle Frank set down his tools. 'Today is the day, Henry. I can feel it. I never told your aunt this, but my favorite book's in there. I was reading it to your Grandfather near the end. It's been due back at the library for awhile now, and it'd be nice to be able to check something else out.

Stop bothering my guest,” Kami ordered. “If I do …,” Tomo began his bargain. “If I do. Can I have four glasses of lemonade?” “No.” “Why not?” “Because if you drank four glasses of lemonade, you would explode,” Kami said. “Dad would come downstairs and ask, ‘Where is my youngest born?’ and I could only point to the floor, where all that remained of you would be a pool of lemonade and a heap of sweetened entrails. You can have one glass of lemonade.” Tomo gave a cheer and leaped from the sofa, heading for the kitchen at top speed. Kami sighed. “The current theory is that he is a lemonade vampire. C’mon.

Footsteps thudded in the hall, and I stretched in the large bed, nudging the woman sleeping on my chest to wake up. “Your husband’s back. Pretty sure he won’t be so happy to see a stud like me in his bed.” Mom looked up, blinking the sleep from her eyes. She swatted my chest, then coughed. “Hide. I wouldn’t mess with him.” “I wouldn’t mess with me.” I flexed my biceps behind her, and her coughs became loud barks that made me want to kill someone. Dad threw the door open, already untying his tie. He reached the bed, planted a kiss on Mom’s nose, and flicked the back of my head. “You’re too old to cuddle with your mama.” “Don’t say that!” Rosie shrieked. “Seems like she’s not really in agreement with you.” I yawned. Dad went into the bathroom and closed the door behind him. I squeezed Mom into my chest and kissed the crown of her head. “He’s probably crying while listening to Halsey on repeat like a little bitch.” I yawned again. “Language, boy.” “C’mon, we’re not one of those fake families.” “What kind of family are we?” she asked. “A real, kick-ass one.

C’mon,” I said, like Moses parting the sea, “move aside so I can get in there.” They did, and I crawled into bed. They didn’t cuddle against me, but they kind of bunched up so they were almost touching me. “Good night,” I said, thinking maybe I could slide out of bed after they had fallen asleep, and then I could do whatever I wanted downstairs. And then I thought of the entire day, Bessie biting my hand, falling into the pool, watching them catch on fire, watching them catch on fire again, waiting for them to maybe catch on fire again. I was tired, I realized. I touched the places on my face where Bessie had scratched me. I felt like I couldn’t breathe; the children were so close, burning up all the available air. I kind of gasped a little, and Bessie asked, “Are you okay?” and I said, “Go to sleep,” and then I just closed my eyes and tried to imagine a world where everything worked out. And then I really was asleep, dead asleep, for maybe ten minutes, and then I heard them talking. “Is she asleep?” Roland asked. “I think so,” Bessie said. I kept my breathing steady, my eyes closed. “What do you think?” Roland asked. “She’s okay,” Bessie said, “I guess.” “What about Dad?” Roland asked. “What a jerk,” Bessie said, “just like Mom said.” “I kind of like it here,” Roland said. There was a moment of silence and then Bessie replied, “It might be okay. For a little while.” “She’s nice,” Roland said. “Maybe,” Bessie said. “She’s weird.” “So what do we do?” he asked. “We just wait and see,” Bessie said. “And if it’s bad?” Roland said. “Like at Gran-Gran and Pop-Pop’s?” “We’ll just burn it all down,” Bessie said. “Everything. Everyone. We’ll set it on fire.” “Okay,” Roland said. “Good night, Roland,” Bessie said. “Good night, Bessie,” Roland said.