Chaw Quotes

We've searched our database for all the quotes and captions related to Chaw. Here they are! All 36 of them:

β€œ
We are the owls of the weather chaw. We take it blistering, We take it all. Roiling boiling gusts, We're the owls with the guts. For blizzards our gizzards Dr tremble with joy. An ice storm, a gale, how we love blinding hail. We fly forward and backward, Upside down and flat. Do we flinch? Do we wail? Do we skitter or scutter? No, we yarp one more pellet And fly straight for the gutter! Do we screech? Do we scream? Do we gurgle? Take pause? Not on your life! For we are the best Of the best of the chaws!
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Kathryn Lasky (The Journey (Guardians of Ga'Hoole, #2))
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So in that dark and tangled night, the chaw of chaws rose to flight, with talons bloodied, feathers singed. A battle won - a war begins!
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Kathryn Lasky (The Rescue (Guardians of Ga'Hoole, #3))
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Give me a hot coal glowing bright red, Give me an ember sizzling with heat, These are the jewels made from my beak. We fly between the flames and never get singed We plunge through the smoke and never cringe. The secrets of fire, its strange winds, its rages, We know it all as it rampages Through forests, through canyons, Up hillsides and down. We track it. We'll find it. Take coals by the pound. We'll yarp in the heart of the hottest flame Then bring back its coals an make them tame. For we are the colliers brave and beyond all We are the owls of the colliering chaw!
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Kathryn Lasky (The Journey (Guardians of Ga'Hoole, #2))
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Says, Rahula! Rahula! Face of Glory! Universe chawed and swallowed!
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Jack Kerouac
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Bugs would eat the wax. Chaw the old canvas. And one day there will be a mutation, and we will have new ones that can digest concrete, dissolve steel and suck up the acid puddles, fatten on magic plastics, lick their slow way through glass. Then the cities will tumble and man will be chased back into the sea from which he came...
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John D. MacDonald (The Deep Blue Good-By (Travis McGee, #1))
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Then, when we had done so, we put our hands upon the freezing cold monster, our monster. And this is what we felt: vertigo, an icicle through our strong hearts, our long-lost childhoods. Sunshine in a field and crickets and the sweet tealeaf stink of a new ball mitt and a rock glinting with mica and a chaw of bubblegum wrapping in sweet sweet tendrils down our throats and the warm breeze up our shorts and the low vibrato of lake loons and the sun and the sun and the warm sun and this is what we felt; the sun.
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Lauren Groff (The Monsters of Templeton)
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Have you ever suddenly realized it's someone else's mood swing and you're just along for the ride?
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Alex Bosworth (Chip Chip Chaw!)
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But you shouldn't have let her. That's the only way with these fanciful women that chaw high--innocent or guilty. She'd have come round in time. We all do! Custom does it! It's all the same in the end! However, I think she's fond of her man still--whatever he med be of her. You were too quick about her. I shouldn't have let her go! I should have kept her chained on-- her spirit for kicking would have been broke soon enough! There's nothing like bondage and a stone-deaf taskmaster for taming us women. Besides, you've got the laws on your side. Moses knew.
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Thomas Hardy (Jude the Obscure)
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And this was what we felt: vertigo, an icicle through our strong hearts, our long-lost childhoods. Sunshine in a field and crickets and the sweet tealeaf stink of a new ball mitt and a rock glinting with mica and a chaw of bubblegum wrapping its sweet tendrils down our throats and the warm breeze up our shorts and the low vibrato of lake loons and the sun and the sun and the warm sun and this is what we felt; the sun.
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Lauren Groff (The Monsters of Templeton)
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Socrates said that an unexamined life is not worth living. But you know, an over-examined life can be a real crap festival, too.
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Alex Bosworth (Chip Chip Chaw!)
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Of course no one accused the old woman of being a witch. But she was foreign. Her words percolated up the tunnel of her throat , espresso-thick and strong. Bad weather had eroded her face. Some believed that the sun had crisped her skin into coriaceous pleats. Others blamed the chaw of a wintry climate. No one knew where she came from, though lots of people privately thought that perhaps she ought to go back.
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Carys Bray (Sweet Home)
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I had to break up with Medusa. I just got sick of buying mice for her hair. I should have ended it sooner, but you try looking into those eyes.
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Alex Bosworth (Chip Chip Chaw!)
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There are many ways to roll with the punches. Still, it’s probably best to avoid people who punch you.
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Alex Bosworth (Chip Chip Chaw!)
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He is stark mad, whoever says, That he hath been in love an hour, Yet not that love so soon decays, But that it can ten in less space devour ; Who will believe me, if I swear That I have had the plague a year? Who would not laugh at me, if I should say I saw a flash of powder burn a day? Ah, what a trifle is a heart, If once into love's hands it come ! All other griefs allow a part To other griefs, and ask themselves but some ; They come to us, but us love draws ; He swallows us and never chaws ; By him, as by chain'd shot, whole ranks do die ; He is the tyrant pike, our hearts the fry. If 'twere not so, what did become Of my heart when I first saw thee? I brought a heart into the room, But from the room I carried none with me. If it had gone to thee, I know Mine would have taught thine heart to show More pity unto me ; but Love, alas ! At one first blow did shiver it as glass. Yet nothing can to nothing fall, Nor any place be empty quite ; Therefore I think my breast hath all Those pieces still, though they be not unite ; And now, as broken glasses show A hundred lesser faces, so My rags of heart can like, wish, and adore, But after one such love, can love no more.
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John Donne (The Complete Poetry and Selected Prose)
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The owner as he crosses the board floor, moving between shelves, past stacked crates and burlap sacks bulging with sugar and flour. β€œJessup? It’s Brady! You in back?” The twelve burros crane their scrawny necks in his direction when Brady emerges from the merc. He reaches into his greatcoat, pulls out a tin of Star Navy tobacco, and shoves a chaw between lips and gums gone blackish purple in the last year. β€œWhat the hell?” he whispers. When he delivered supplies two weeks ago, this little mining town was bustling. Now Abandon looms listless before him in the gloom of late afternoon, streets empty, snow banked high against the unshoveled plank sidewalks, no tracks as far as he can see. The cabins scattered across the lower slopes lie buried to their chimneys, and with not a one of them smoking, the air smells too clean. Brady is a man at home in solitude, often spending days on the trail, alone in wild, quiet places, but this silence is all wrongβ€”a lie. He feels menaced by it, and with each passing moment, more certain that something.
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Blake Crouch (Abandon)
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The Old Man's prayers was more sight than sound, really, more sense than sensibility. You had to be there: the aroma of burnt pheasant rolling through the air, the wide, Kansas prairie about, the smell of buffalo dung, the mosquitoes and wind eating at you one way, and him chawing at the wind the other. He was a plain terror in the praying department
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James McBride (The Good Lord Bird)
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Sure, I'd like a child of my own. I'd also like a laser pistol, that doesn't mean someone should give me one.
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Alex Bosworth (Chip Chip Chaw!)
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It's spooky how we'll never know how many people have died while trying to mail a chain letter.
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Alex Bosworth (Chip Chip Chaw!)
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My parents would not permit ugly language in the house, which was okay with me. I didn't want to learn German anyway.
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Alex Bosworth (Chip Chip Chaw!)
β€œ
We are the owls of the weather chaw. We take it blistering, We take it all. Roiling boiling gusts, We’re the owls with the guts. For blizzards our gizzards Do tremble with joy. An ice storm, a gale, how we love blinding hail. We fly forward and backward, Upside down and flat. Do we flich? Do we wail? Do we skitter or scutter? No, we yarp one more pellet And fly straight for the gutter! Do we screech? Do we scream? Do we gurgle? Take pause? Not on your life! For we are the best Of the best of the chaws!
”
”
Kathryn Lasky
β€œ
Are there any theories about Ann?” I asked. β€œSome loony, some crazy man musta done it. Some guy rides through town, forgot to take his pills, voices are talking to him. Something like ’at.” β€œWhy do you say that?” He stopped, pulled a package of chaw from his back pocket, buried a fat pinch in his gumline and worked it until he got the first tiny cut to let the tobacco in. The lining of my mouth began tingling in sympathy. β€œWhy else would you pull out a dead little girl’s teeth?” β€œHe took her teeth?” β€œAll but the back part of a baby molar.
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Gillian Flynn (Sharp Objects)
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One day, back when I working at a video store, a woman accompanied by her two small sons walked up the counter with a tape box displaying a man slicing off someone’s head with a chainsaw. β€œDoes this have any sex in it?” she asked. In my mind, it was like I was narrating a nature documentary on humans. β€œWatch as the American mother protects her young ones from dangerous influences.
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Alex Bosworth (Chip Chip Chaw!)
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Twenty years ago, chaos theory was all the rage. I wonder what happened with that. Maybe all the excitement over it become so organized that its initial entropy failed to fall apart and disintegrate into nothingness leaving its proponents re-illusioned in certainty. I remember seeing an employee at a local book store arranging a subsection for literature about chaos among the science books. "There’s the problem." I thought. "How can there be a chaos section? Those books should be distributed randomly throughout the store... that is, if there was any real disorder to things.
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Alex Bosworth (Chip Chip Chaw!)
β€œ
It ain’t no crime in a prisoner to steal the thing he needs to get away with, Tom said; it’s his right; and so, as long as we was representing a prisoner, we had a perfect right to steal anything on this place we had the least use for, to get ourselves out of prison with. He said if we warn’t prisoners it would be a very different thing, and nobody but a mean ornery person would steal when he warn’t a prisoner. So we allowed we would steal everything there was that come handy. And yet he made a mighty fuss, one day, after that, when I stole a watermelon out of the nigger patch and eat it; and he made me go and give the niggers a dime, without telling them what it was for. Tom said that what he meant was, we could steal anything we needed. Well, I says, I needed the watermelon. But he said I didn’t need it to get out of prison with, there’s where the difference was. He said if I’d a wanted it to hide a knife in, and smuggle it to Jim to kill the seneskal with, it would a been all right. So I let it go at that, though I couldn’t see no advantage in my representing a prisoner, if I got to set down and chaw over a lot of gold-leaf distinctions like that, every time I see a chance to hog a watermelon.
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Mark Twain (The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn)
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Every time I write about life, I must kill and eat the actual event. I mean to say that my words are scavengers who need to devour lifeless substance if they are to survive as non-fiction. The event is dead, it ceased to be as soon as it happened. The closest I can come to resurrecting the past is to feed my memories to a ravenous swarm of sentences, punctuation and paragraphs. They chew up and digest the things I remember, producing a waste product I think of as an honest account. Reality suffers a second death through this process. False memories, both organic and manufactured, erase the genuine article in order to reassemble the factors into a serviceable construct. True story.
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Alex Bosworth (Chip Chip Chaw!)
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He behaves the hard chaw, your man there, but he's thick as a plank for stupid.
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April W. Gardner (Beautiful in His Sight)
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The twelve burros crane their scrawny necks in his direction when Brady emerges from the merc. He reaches into his greatcoat, pulls out a tin of Star Navy tobacco, and shoves a chaw between lips and gums gone blackish purple in the last year. β€œWhat the hell?” he whispers. When he delivered supplies two weeks ago, this little mining town was bustling. Now Abandon looms listless before him in the gloom of late afternoon, streets empty, snow banked high against the unshoveled plank sidewalks, no tracks as far as he can see. The cabins scattered across the lower slopes lie buried to their chimneys, and with not a one of them smoking, the air smells too clean. Brady is a man at home in solitude, often spending days on the trail, alone in wild, quiet places, but this silence is all wrongβ€”a lie. He feels menaced by it, and with each passing moment, more certain that something has happened here. A wall of dark clouds scrapes over the peaks, and snowflakes begin to speck the sleeves of his slicker. Here comes the wind. Chimes clang together over the doorway of the merc. It will be night soon.
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Blake Crouch (Abandon)
β€œ
Quando anche tu avrai vinto la timidezza, grazie al tuo costume da tigre, potrai sentirti in ogni momento sereno. E finalmente ti tornerΓ  il sorriso!
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Aurelie Chien Chaw Chine
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Man into himselfe can draw All, All his faith can swallow,'or reason chaw.
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John Donne (The Complete English Poems)
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Most people thought he was insane when he looked up into the sky with a simple handmade telescope and cried out that the Earth revolves around the Sun, because this was four years ago.
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Alex Bosworth (Chip Chip Chaw!)
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There's nobody out there who would call me a psychopath. I've seen to that.
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Alex Bosworth (Chip Chip Chaw!)
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Whatever I haven’t accomplished biologically obviously wasn't all that imperative.
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Alex Bosworth (Chip Chip Chaw!)
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Lately, I've become sort of a fatalist. Well, that was bound to happen.
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Alex Bosworth (Chip Chip Chaw!)
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The truth is largely uncalled for.
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Alex Bosworth (Chip Chip Chaw!)
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My lullaby passes through the concrete walls. Other prisoners, political and nonpolitical, are quiet. My lullaby soothes them even though not everyone speaks my language. Some sob like infants. β€œLy-ly-ly-ly . . . Kazhollei chaw kazhallem . . . ly-ly-ly . . .
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Ava Homa (Daughters of Smoke and Fire)
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And by his side rode loathsome Gluttony, Deformed creature, on a filthie swyne, His belly was vp-blowne with luxury, And eke with fatnesse swollen were his eyne, And like a Crane his necke was long and fyne, With which he swallowd vp excessiue feast; For want whereof poore people oft did pyne; And all the way, most like a brutish beast, He spued vp his gorge, that all did him deteast. In greene vine leaues he was right fitly clad; For other clothes he could not weare for heat, And on his head an yuie girland had, From vnder which fast trickled downe the sweat: Still as he rode, he somewhat still did eat, And in his hand did beare a bouzing can, β€œOf which he supt so oft, that on his seat His dronken corse he scarse vpholden can, In shape and life more like a monster, then a man. Vnfit he was for any worldly thing, And eke vnhable once to stirre or go, Not meet to be of counsell to a king, Whose mind in meat and drinke was drowned so, That from his friend he seldome knew his fo: Full of diseases was his carcas blew, And a dry dropsie through his flesh did flow And next to him rode lustfull Lechery, Vpon a bearded Goat, whose rugged haire, And whally eyes (the signe of gelosy,) Was like the person selfe, whom he did beare: Who rough, and blacke, and filthy did appeare, Vnseemely man to please faire Ladies eye; Yet he of Ladies oft was loued deare, When fairer faces were bid standen by: O who does know the bent of womens fantasy? In a greene gowne he clothed was full faire, Which vnderneath did hide his filthinesse, And in his hand a burning hart he bare, Full of vaine follies, and new fanglenesse: For he was false, and fraught with ficklenesse, And learned had to loue with secret lookes, And well could daunce, and sing with ruefulnesse, And fortunes tell, and read in louing bookes, And thousand other wayes, to bait his fleshly hookes. And greedy Auarice by him did ride, Vpon a Camell loaden all with gold; Two iron coffers hong on either side, With precious mettall full, as they might hold, And in his lap an heape of coine he told; For of his wicked pelfe his God he made, And vnto hell him selfe for money sold; Accursed vsurie was all his trade, And right and wrong ylike in equall ballaunce waide. His life was nigh vnto deaths doore yplast, And tired-bare cote, and cobled shoes he ware, Ne scarse good morsell all his life did tast, But both from backe and belly still did spare, To fill his bags, and richesse to compare; Yet chylde ne kinsman liuing had he none To leaue them to; but thorough daily care To get, and nightly feare to lose his owne, He led a wretched life vnto himselfe vnknowne. And next to him malicious Enuie rode, Vpon a rauenous wolfe, and still did chaw Betweene his cankred teeth a venemous tode, That all the poison ran about his chaw; But inwardly he chawed his owne maw At neighbours wealth, that made him euer sad For death it was, when any good he saw, And wept, that cause of weeping none he had But when he heard of harme, he wexed wondrous glad. And him beside rides fierce reuenging Wrath, Vpon a Lion, loth for to be led; And in his hand a burning brond he hath, The which he brandisheth about his hed; His eyes did hurle forth sparkles fiery red, And stared sterne on all, that him beheld, As ashes pale of hew and seeming ded; And on his dagger still his hand he held, Trembling through hasty rage, when choler in him sweld.
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Edmund Spenser (The Faerie Queene)