Coolest Person Quotes

Finch eyed me suspiciously, and then smiled. “You are officially the coolest person I know.” “That’s sad, Finch. You should get out more,” I said, stopping at the cafeteria entrance.

A person who is truly cool is a work of art. And remember, original works of art cost exponentially higher than imitations. Just take a look at the the coolest people in history. They will always be a part of history for being extremely original individuals, not imitations.

You are officially the coolest person I know." "That's sad, Finch. You should get out more.

If you tell anyone what I just told you, I’ll call the Mob. I know some of them, you know.” “Bullshit.” I shrugged. “Believe what you want.” Finch eyed me suspiciously, and then smiled. “You are officially the coolest person I know.” “That’s sad, Finch. You should get out more,” I said, stopping at the cafeteria entrance.

True cool is an attitude that is projected from a person who is extremely comfortable in their own skin. Cool people have the ability to forge their own paths, stand apart from the herd, and not give a damn about fitting in. A person who is truly cool is a work of art. And remember, original works of art cost exponentially higher than imitations. Just take a look at the the coolest people in history. They will always be a part of history for being extremely original individuals, not imitations.

Think of them. Heads up, eyes on the target. Running. Full speed. Gravity be damned. Toward that thick layer of glass that is the ceiling. Running, full speed, and crashing. Crashing into that ceiling and falling back. Crashing into it and falling back. Into it and falling back. Woman after woman. Each one running and each one crashing. And everyone falling. How many women had to hit that glass before the first crack appeared? How many cuts did they get, how many bruises? How hard did they have to hit the ceiling? How many women had to hit that glass to ripple it, to send out a thousand hairline fractures? How many women had to hit that glass before the pressure of their effort caused it to evolve from a thick pane of glass into just a thin sheet of splintered ice? So that when it was my turn to run, it didn’t even look like a ceiling anymore. I mean, the wind was already whistling through—I could always feel it on my face. And there were all these holes giving me a perfect view to the other side. I didn’t even notice the gravity, I think it had already worn itself away. So I didn’t have to fight as hard. I had time to study the cracks. I had time to decide where the air felt the rarest, where the wind was the coolest, where the view was the most soaring. I picked my spot in the glass and I called it my target. And I ran. And when I finally hit that ceiling, it just exploded into dust. Like that.

My personal soundtrack changed from emotionally poignant indie music to more of a gritty hip-hop edge. If I had a soul, it was not around. At

I wanted to kill the person I had become so that I could be the person who I always wanted to be.

If you see a teenager in the wild, be gentle. Every single one, even the coolest among them, is navigating the world like a twitching sack of snakes stuck in the molting phase.

It’s bizarre how you can think someone is the coolest person ever, then you get a glimpse of their reality and realise they are actually quite tragic.

Crying makes people not want to be around you. When someone honestly wants to comfort you when you are crying, that person loves you. When both of you can cry together, you love each other.

I told Caitlin ‘we have to leave’ even though I knew that her fifth period class is the only one she likes because mr.harris is the coolest teacher I’ve never had. She could tell I meant it, though, because she got her serious face on and just left with me. That’s why I love her so much. That’s why I wish I was a better person.

Love is suicide. Maybe I am being pretentious, but think about it. If you truly give yourself to someone, you leave the life you had behind. Sometimes, love can be like not caring about anything else but that other person. You do not care what anyone says. You do not care about the consequences. Like a suicidal person on a cliff, you just jump.

I want you back because... I like being with you more than anyone else. And because when I make you laugh I feel like the coolest person on the planet. And because we get each other in like, every possible way, and you don't know that's a huge deal until you grow up and meet a fuckload of people and you realize how rare that is.

I think it’s the coolest thing in the world when someone steps outside their so-called station in life to indulge in a personal “art for the sake of art” moment.

Within the realm of mental reactions, when you know what is yours and what is someone else’s, it makes it easier to help another human being, because you no longer take their confusion so personally.

Personal opinion time: some of the bravest, strangest, coolest stories right now are being told in the young adult space. It's stuff that doesn't fly by tropes or adhere to rules -- appropriate, perhaps, since young adults tend to flick cigarettes in the eyes of the rules and don't play by social norms as much as adults do.

NOTE: In the rare situation a megatsunami washes a T. rex into your path, you won't be carrying a weapon large enough to hurt it. If it's intent on eating you, it will eat you. However, you will be killed by the coolest dinosaur ever. Most people go their whole lives without ever seeing a T. rex in person. Do you know how lucky you are?

Being sucked into a black hole would pretty much be the coolest way to die. It's not like anyone has firsthand experience, and scientists can't decide if you would spend week floating past the event horizon before being torn apart or soar into a kind of maelstrom of particles and be burned alive. I like to think of what it would be like if we were swallowed, just like that. Suddenly none of this would matter. No more worrying about where we're going or what's to become of us or if we'll ever disappoint another person again. All of it-just...gone.

What is your name?” she said crossing her legs. “I am Raj Singhania, owner of Singhania group of Industries and I am on my way to sign a 1000 crore deal.” “Oh my God, Oh my God!” she said laughing and looked at Bobby from top to bottom. “What’s with this OMG thing and girls, stop saying that. I am not going to propose you anytime soon. But it’s OK. I can understand how girls feel when they meet famous dudes like me,” Bobby said smiling. “What kind of an idiot are you?” she said laughing. “Indeed, a very rare one. The one that you find after searching for millions of years,” Bobby said. “Do you always talk like this?” she said laughing. “Only to strangers on bus or whenever I get bored,” Bobby said. “OK, tell me your real name,” she said. “My name is Mogaliputta Tissa and I am here to save the world.” “Oh no not again!” she said squeezing her head with both her hands. “I know you are dying inside to kiss me,” Bobby said flashing a smile. “Why would I kiss you?” she said with a pretended sternness. “Because, you are impressed with my intelligence level and the hotness quotient, I can see that in your eyes.” “You think you are hot! Oh no! You look like that cartoon guy in 7 up commercial,” she said laughing. “Thank you. He was the coolest guy I saw on TV,” Bobby said. “OK fine, let’s calm down. Tell me your real name,” she said calmly. “I don’t remember my name,” Bobby said calmly. “What kind of idiot forgets his name?” she said staring into Bobby’s eyes. “I am suffering from multiple personality disorder and I forgot my present personality’s name. Can you help me out?” Bobby said with an innocent look on his face. “I will kill you with my hair clip. Leave me alone,” she said and closed her eyes. “You look like a Pomeranian puppy,” Bobby said looking at her hair. “Don’t talk to me,” she said. “You look very beautiful,” Bobby said. “Nice try but I am not going to open my eyes,” she said. “Your ear rings are very nice. But I think that girl in the last seat has better rings,” Bobby said. “She is not wearing any ear rings. I know because I saw her when I was getting inside. It takes just 5 seconds for a girl to know what other girls around her are wearing,” she said with her eyes still closed. “Hey, look. They are selling porn CDs at a roadside shop,” Bobby said. “I have loads of porn in my personal computer. I don’t need them,” she said. “OMG, that girl looks hotter than you,” Bobby said. “I will not open my eyes no matter what. Even if an earthquake hits the road, I will not open my eyes,” she said crossing her arms over her chest. Bobby turned back and waved his hand to the kid who was poking his mom’s ear. The kid came running and halted at Bobby’s seat. “This aunty wants to give you a chocolate if you tell her your name,” Bobby whispered to the kid and the kid perked up smiling. “Hello Aunty! Wake up, my name is Bintu. Give me my chocolate, Aunty, please!” the kid said yanking at the girl’s hand. All of a sudden, she opened her eyes and glared at the kid. “Don’t call me aunty. What would everyone think? I am a teenage girl. Go away. I don’t have anything to give you,” she said and the kid went back to his seat. “This is what happens when you mess with an intelligent person like me,” Bobby said laughing. “Shut up,” she said. “OK dude.” “I am not a dude. Stop it.” “OK sexy. Oops! OK Saxena,” “I will scream.” “OK. Where do you study?” “Why should I tell you?” “Are you suffering from split personality disorder like me?” Bobby said staring into her eyes. “Shut up. Don’t talk to me,” she said with a pout. “What the hell! I have enlightened your mind with my thoughts, told you my name and now you are acting like you don’t know me. Girls are mad.

Jack and Caleb stood in the driveway, the cars’ engines revving, and talked about their new toys. The lights from the porch spilled down to them. Jenna stood, leaning against the post, watching, enjoying seeing their bond and appreciation of the cars. “Boys with toys.” She smiled from the top step. “You guys look happy.” “What’s not to be happy about? These are the coolest cars ever,” Caleb said with the exuberance of a teen with his very own custom hot rod. “You owe me a ride, Jack.” “Honey, I aim to give you the ride of your life as soon as this one goes home to his wife.” Jack gave her a wicked grin and closed the hood of his car. Jenna laughed and smiled. “You have a one-track mind.” When was the last time she felt this light? “Honey, my mind hasn’t been off you since I saw you in the diner.” “I got the hint. I’m going.” Caleb closed the hood of his car, still purring like a really big kitten. He walked over to Jenna as she came down the porch steps to the gravel drive. He wrapped his arms around her, careful of her healing back, and she wrapped hers around him. So easy to do now that she’d opened herself to him, the whole family. He bent and whispered into her ear, “Thank you. Thank you for what you gave to my wife, my children, and me. I’ll never be able to repay you. If you ever need me, I’ll be there for you, no matter what. You can count on me. You’re an angel, an absolute angel.” “Get your hands off my woman. You have one of your own at home.” Jack watched his brother-in-law with Jenna. They’d created a close bond, the same as with his sister. She didn’t shy away from him when he embraced her; instead she held him and drew on his strength. Caleb would be like a big brother to her. He would protect her. Caleb drew Jenna away just enough to look into her eyes. He put his hand to her cheek, his other arm still wrapped around her. “Thank you.” “You’re welcome, Caleb. You’re a good man.” “You make me want to be a better one.” “I just want you and your family to have a happy life.” “We will, thanks in part to you and Jack. You’re part of that family now, too. Don’t ever forget that.” “Thank you.” “Don’t thank me. You’re a wonderful person. The best I’ve ever met.” He kissed her cheek and released her, turning back toward Jack. “I already punched you for kissing my sister. I guess I have to punch you for kissing her now, too,” Jack teased. Caleb didn’t rise to the bait. “You hurt her, and I’ll be the one throwing the punches.” He smiled back at Jack, then walked over and gave him a big bear hug. “Thanks for what you did for me, Summer, and the kids. It means everything to us. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He smacked Jack on the back before getting into his car. Caleb revved the engine, beamed them an excited smile, and took off like a rocket toward home. “You going to hurt me, Jack?” “Not if I can help it. I’ll spend the rest of my life and yours trying to make you happy. How’s that sound?” “Like heaven. Take me for a ride.” -Jenna, Caleb, & Jack

Here’s how it works: If you answer yes to ten or more questions, then you should read this book. If you don’t, then buy it anyway and give it to the coolest person you know. This author needs money to eat her feelings. Does your college degree hang over your head like a rain cloud made of student loans, false hopes,

Recall the teachers who have engendered the highest amount of love and respect from you. Were they the teachers with the largest personalities? Or the teachers who thought they were the coolest? Or was it a teacher who expressed a care or respect for you as a person?

Consider this, my friend. After talking with Mr. Bagwell, you felt as if he’s the coolest, most badass person in the world worthy of your adulation. After talking to Mr. Bagley, you felt like YOU’RE the coolest, most badass person in the world today that’s worthy of HIS adulation. Who among the 2 would you rather talk to most of the time? I bet it’s Mr. Bagley. Why? It’s natural to like others who make us feel cool and badass more than people who we perceive to be cool and badass! A

I may not be the coolest and friendliest person you ever met but I promise you that I Will be the bravest person to fight for you

This is a chance for a personal revolution: to leave your mark on this planet by causing the least amount of harm possible. What’s the argument for not causing the least amount of harm? Inconvenience? Indifference? Apathy?… Here’s the coolest thing about being vegan in this day and age: It’s never been easier. You can have the same smell, taste, and texture of meat, cheese, and milk without it. Nobody has to suffer and die for dinner any more, including you.” —GARY YOUROFSKY, THE VEGAN ACTIVIST WHOSE 2010 TALK AT GEORGIA TECH, TITLED “BEST SPEECH YOU WILL EVER HEAR,” BECAME A YOUTUBE SENSATION

And the coolest thing about this is right now there's only one person in this room that knows what the truth is. And in about five minutes, there's gonna be two of us. So that's the coolest part, okay?

Being sucked into a black hole would pretty much be the coolest way to die. It's not like anyone has firsthand experience, and scientists can't decide if you would spend weeks floating past the event horizon before being torn apart or soar into a kind of maelstrom of particles and be burned alive. I like to think of what it would be like if we were swallowed, just like that. Suddenly none of this would matter. No more worrying about where we're going or what's to become of us or if we'll ever disappoint another person again. All of it—just...gone." "So there's nothing." "Maybe. Or maybe it's a whole other world, one we can't even imagine.

You are often unable to hold on to personal heroes or villains. Inevitably you will meet your hero, and he may turn out to be less than impressive, while your villain turns out to be the coolest cat you’ve ever met. You never can tell, so you eventually learn to live without a rooting interest in the parade of stars, musicians, sports champions, and politicians. And you lose the ability to participate in the real American pastime: beating up on people you don’t like and glorifying people you do.

Sam?” “Yeah.” “I was on the school bus that day. Remember?” “Vaguely,” he said, and laughed. “My fifteen minutes of fame.” “You were the bravest, coolest person I’d ever known. Everyone thought so. You were the hero of the whole school. And then, I don’t know. It was like you kind of just…faded.” He resented that a little. He hadn’t faded. Had he? “Well, most days the bus driver doesn’t have a heart attack,” Sam said. Astrid laughed. “You’re one of those people, I think. You go along in your life just sort of living. And then something goes wrong and there you are. You step up and do what you have to do. Like today, the fire.” “Yeah, well, to tell you the truth, I kind of prefer the other part. The part where I just live my life.” Astrid nodded like she understood, but then she said, “That’s not going to happen this time.

I was so proud to have been made a lieutenant-commander in the Royal Navy in 2005 (Dad would have approved!), and through the expeditions that I have led in Antarctica, the Himalayas, and the Arctic, we have now raised more than $2.5 million for children’s charities around the world. Those things really matter to me. Especially when you can actually see lives saved. There’s not much tough-guy nonsense going on when I hear those young kids’ stories. It is called perspective. In addition, and somewhat worryingly, I was voted the thirtieth most influential man in America. Hmm. And back home in the UK, I read one morning that I was considered the seventh coolest British man, as well as the most admired person by the middle classes, second only to the Queen. Double hmm. All are very flattering, but they are not very accurate. Ask Shara how cool I am not! They have, though, led to one great thing: becoming Chief Scout and figurehead to twenty-eight million Scouts around the globe. And that has been a really fun journey.

The only thing that remained distinct about Grace, through it all, was his equipoise. He never lost his cool. He never snapped at his aides. He never panicked. He'd always been the coolest person in any room, and drew people to him by force of his coolness, and that never changed.

Helen, a junior high math teacher in Minnesota, spent most of the school week teaching a difficult “new math” lesson. She could tell her students were frustrated and restless by week’s end. They were becoming rowdy so she told them to put their books away. She then instructed the class to take out clean sheets of paper. She gave each of them this assignment: Write down every one of your classmates’ names on the left, and then, on the right, put down one thing you like about that student. The tense and rowdy mood subsided and the room quieted when the students went to work. Their moods lifted as they dug into the assignment. There was frequent laughter and giggling. They looked around the room, sharing quips about one another. Helen’s class was a much happier group when the bell signaled the end of the school day. She took their lists home over the weekend and spent both days off recording what was said about each student on separate sheets of paper so she could pass on all the nice things said about each person without giving away who said what. The next Monday she handed out the lists she’d made for each student. The room buzzed with excitement and laughter. “Wow. Thanks! This is the coolest!” “I didn’t think anyone even noticed me!” “Someone thinks I’m beautiful?” Helen had come up with the exercise just to settle down her class, but it ended up giving them a big boost. They grew closer as classmates and more confident as individuals. She could tell they all seemed more relaxed and joyful. About ten years later, Helen learned that one of her favorite students in that class, a charming boy named Mark, had been killed while serving in Vietnam. She received an invitation to the funeral from Mark’s parents, who included a note saying they wanted to be sure she came to their farmhouse after the services to speak with them. Helen arrived and the grieving parents took her aside. The father showed her Mark’s billfold and then from it he removed two worn pieces of lined paper that had been taped, folded, and refolded many times over the years. Helen recognized her handwriting on the paper and tears came to her eyes. Mark’s parents said he’d always carried the list of nice things written by his classmates. “Thank you so much for doing that,” his mother said. “He treasured it, as you can see.” Still teary-eyed, Helen walked into the kitchen where many of Mark’s former junior high classmates were assembled. They saw that Mark’s parents had his list from that class. One by one, they either produced their own copies from wallets and purses or they confessed to keeping theirs in an album, drawer, diary, or file at home. Helen the teacher was a “people builder.” She instinctively found ways to build up her students. Being a people builder means you consistently find ways to invest in and bring out the best in others. You give without asking for anything in return. You offer advice, speak faith into them, build their confidence, and challenge them to go higher. I’ve found that all most people need is a boost. All they need is a little push, a little encouragement, to become what God has created them to be. The fact is, none of us will reach our highest potential by ourselves. We need one another. You can be the one to tip the scales for someone else. You can be the one to stir up their seeds of greatness.

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Abigail is literally the coolest, smartest, prettiest person I've ever met.

Having your best friend move away is like finding a week-old tuna sandwich in the bottom of your back pack. It really stinks. When Luke moved away last summer, I knew things wouldn’t be the same.  Luke was more than just my best friend. He was the coolest person I’ve ever known. He could beat every level on Space Pod Invasion. He could burp the entire alphabet, forwards… and backwards. He could blast a baseball clear over the fence at Parker Field. In gym class, he was always chosen team captain. And for some reason, he always picked me first, even though I was the shortest kid in class. I still remember that day last August when he broke the news. That afternoon was so hot, I thought the rubber might melt right off my high tops. Dad was grilling burgers, while we were splashing around in the pool with my kid brother Dylan, trying to knock him off his

However, if a person bothers a shark it will fight back and will cause severe injuries, or even kill a person. It is best to leave this shark

Judd: You like being scared? Louis: I remember when I was a kid, Billie Jean King was doing that Battle of the Sexes thing—I don’t remember if it was happening when I was a kid or if I saw a show about it. But I was so impressed with her. She reminded me of my mom and I just thought she was the coolest person and I hated Bobby Riggs because my mom was a single, working mother. They toured together and did these interviews together, and he was always going, like, women should just go back, put on a tight shirt, and make me a steak. He said this amazing shit and she’s just sitting there with a smile on her face. And they turned to her and they say, “How do you feel about all this?” And she says, “Well, all this does is put pressure on me. Everything he says just means that I have to beat him.” She gets this big smile on her face and says, “I love pressure.” Judd: Wow. Louis: And I never forgot it. I was like, fuck that. That was such an interesting notion—that pressure, give me, give me, give me, because all that’s going to do is make me better. Like, eating pressure. Having it be fuel. I like that.

Helen, a junior high math teacher in Minnesota, spent most of the school week teaching a difficult “new math” lesson. She could tell her students were frustrated and restless by week’s end. They were becoming rowdy so she told them to put their books away. She then instructed the class to take out clean sheets of paper. She gave each of them this assignment: Write down every one of your classmates’ names on the left, and then, on the right, put down one thing you like about that student. The tense and rowdy mood subsided and the room quieted when the students went to work. Their moods lifted as they dug into the assignment. There was frequent laughter and giggling. They looked around the room, sharing quips about one another. Helen’s class was a much happier group when the bell signaled the end of the school day. She took their lists home over the weekend and spent both days off recording what was said about each student on separate sheets of paper so she could pass on all the nice things said about each person without giving away who said what. The next Monday she handed out the lists she’d made for each student. The room buzzed with excitement and laughter. “Wow. Thanks! This is the coolest!” “I didn’t think anyone even noticed me!” “Someone thinks I’m beautiful?” Helen had come up with the exercise just to settle down her class, but it ended up giving them a big boost. They grew closer as classmates and more confident as individuals. She could tell they all seemed more relaxed and joyful. About ten years later, Helen learned that one of her favorite students in that class, a charming boy named Mark, had been killed while serving in Vietnam. She received an invitation to the funeral from Mark’s parents, who included a note saying they wanted to be sure she came to their farmhouse after the services to speak with them. Helen arrived and the grieving parents took her aside. The father showed her Mark’s billfold and then from it he removed two worn pieces of lined paper that had been taped, folded, and refolded many times over the years. Helen recognized her handwriting on the paper and tears came to her eyes. Mark’s parents said he’d always carried the list of nice things written by his classmates. “Thank you so much for doing that,” his mother said. “He treasured it, as you can see.” Still teary-eyed, Helen walked into the kitchen where many of Mark’s former junior high classmates were assembled. They saw that Mark’s parents had his list from that class. One by one, they either produced their own copies from wallets and purses or they confessed to keeping theirs in an album, drawer, diary, or file at home.

Those poor kids were destined to jobs as strippers and drug dealers as long as they remained under Aideen's care. “I know you're thinking something bitchy, so I'm gonna say fuck you before I forget.” I snorted. “You're the strangest person I know.” “You pronounced coolest wrong,” Aideen teased.

I don't know how your dad could have left you alone, anyway," Rafael said indignantly. "It's obvious you're the coolest person on the planet.

I’ve been your friend for a long time,” he said, “and you’re the coolest girl I know. Actually, that’s not true. You’re the coolest person I know. You’re cooler than all the girls and the boys, and you’re way cooler than me. Right now I should be the one crying. But I should actually be dead right now, and you saved my life. You’re a hero, Stevi. And it’s okay to give up sometimes or doubt yourself. I give up everyday and I doubt myself all the time. But being your friend for the past couple months has been helping me. And today, Stevi, you showed me that you are a leader. And it’s not because you’re a tomboy or because of your name and it’s not because you’re a girl. It’s because you’re Stevi and you’re really cool.

All the women, white or black or brown, who woke up like this, who came before me in this town. Think of them. Heads up, eyes on the target. Running. Full speed. Gravity be damned. Toward that thick layer of glass that is the ceiling. Running, full speed, and crashing. Crashing into that ceiling and falling back. Crashing into it and falling back. Into it and falling back. Woman after woman. Each one running and each one crashing. And everyone falling. How many women had to hit that glass before the first crack appeared? How many cuts did they get, how many bruises? How hard did they have to hit the ceiling? How many women had to hit that glass to ripple it, to send out a thousand hairline fractures? How many women had to hit that glass before the pressure of their effort caused it to evolve from a thick pane of glass into just a thin sheet of splintered ice? So that when it was my turn to run, it didn’t even look like a ceiling anymore. I mean, the wind was already whistling through—I could always feel it on my face. And there were all these holes giving me a perfect view to the other side. I didn’t even notice the gravity, I think it had already worn itself away. So I didn’t have to fight as hard. I had time to study the cracks. I had time to decide where the air felt the rarest, where the wind was the coolest, where the view was the most soaring. I picked my spot in the glass and I called it my target. And I ran. And when I finally hit that ceiling, it just exploded into dust. Like that. My sisters who went before me had already handled it. No cuts. No bruises. No bleeding. Making it through the glass ceiling to the other side was simply a matter of running on a path created by every other woman’s footprints. I just hit at exactly the right time in exactly the right spot. So I’m breaking my family’s rule today. This is a trophy for participation. And I am beyond honored and proud to receive it. Because this? Was a group effort. Thank you to all the women in this room. Thank you to all the women who never made it into this room. And thank you to all the women who will hopefully fill a room one hundred times this size when we are all gone. You are all an inspiration.