Debbie Harry Quotes

Debbie had to get up and slice me a thick piece of cake before she could answer. And I do mean thick. Harry Potter volume seven thick. I could have knocked out a burglar with this piece of cake. Once I tasted it, though, it seemed just the right size.

(Sookie's Thoughts on Debbie Pelt) she had been cruel to Alcide, insulted me grievously, burned a hole in my favorite wrap and—oh—tried to kill me by proxy. Also, she had stupid hair.

What I think I'll do is I'll do my best to yank Debbie out of me by the roots. And then I'll turn up on your doorstep, one day when you least expect it, and I'll hope by then you will have given up on your vampire.

I could be a housewife… I guess I’ve vacuumed a couple of times.

What I think I'll do,' Alcide said, 'is I'll do my best to yank Debbie from my roots. And then I'll turn up at your doorstep, one day when you least expect it, and I'll hope by then you will have given up on your vampire." "And then we'll be happy ever after?" I smiled. He nodded.

At this point I might not be the biggest star in the world and I may not be the greatest artist in the world, but I have achieved a very wide spread of interesting experiences. And I’m very happy about that.

Drugs aren't always about feeling good. Many times they're about feeling less.

That bitch should not be in a club like this. As if her language is not enough indication, there is also the matter of her Hot Topic mallrat outfit: short black leather skirt with buckles up the side, mass-produced “vintage” Ramones T-shirt, and piss-yellow leggings with some horrible pair of pink patent-leather shoes. She looks like a neon sign bumblebee by way of early Debbie Harry rip-off.

Harry was on a God-given mission—a trial mission that was the opportunity of an eternity and one he hoped would become a permanent job if he performed well.

he got his testosterone in a tizzy

From the first time I set eyes on Marilyn, I thought she was just wonderful. On the silver screen, her lovely skin and platinum hair were luminescent and fantastic. I loved the fantasy of it. In the fifties, when I grew up. Marilyn was an enormous star, but there was such a double standard. The fact that she was such a hot number meant that many middle-class women looked down on her as a slut. And since the publicity machine behind her sold her as a sex idol, she wasn’t valued as a comedic actor or given credit for her talent. I never felt that way about her, obviously. I felt that Marilyn was also playing a character, the proverbial dumb blonde with the little-girl voice and big-girl body, and that there was a lot of smarts behind the act. My character in Blondie was partly a visual homage to Marilyn, and partly a statement about the good old double standard.

Advice. Who’s the coolest, toughest, hottest rocker girl you can think of?” “Debbie Harry,” Mom said. “Tha—” “Not finished,” Mom interrupted. “You can’t ask me to pick only one. That’s so Sophie’s Choice. Kathleen Hanna. Patti Smith. Joan Jett. Courtney Love, in her demented destructionist way. Lucinda Williams, even though she’s country she’s tough as nails. Kim Gordon from Sonic Youth, pushing fifty and still at it. That Cat Power woman. Joan Armatrading.

Tommy trails next to me, and we walk in silence. Him with his stuff and me with my monsters. When I was a kid, I used to name them. Hungry Harry. Cold Cindy. Afraid Abigail. Hurt Henry. Lost Lila. Lonely Lou. Stupid Sandy. Dumb Debbie. Whore Wanda. Slut Sonia. Until there were too many to name.

I wanted to be platinum blond. On our black-and-white television and at the theater where they screened technicolor movies, there was something about platinum hair that was so luminescent and exciting. In my time, Marilyn Monroe was the biggest platinum blond on the silver screen. She was so charismatic and the aura she cast was enormous. I identified with her strongly in ways I couldn’t easily articulate. As I grew up, the more I stood out physically in my family, the more I was drawn to people that I felt I related to in significant way. With Marilyn, I sensed a vulnerability and a particular kind of femaleness that I felt we shared. Marilyn struck me as someone who needed so much love. That was long before I discovered that Marilyn had been a foster child.

Blondie into a highly recognizable rock band? Does a photograph steal your soul? Were the aboriginal people right? Are photographs part of some mystical image bank, a type of visual Akashic record? A source of forensic evidence to examine the hidden, darker secrets of our souls, perhaps? Now, I can tell you that I’ve had my picture taken thousands of times. That’s a lot of theft and a lot of forensics. Sometimes I read things into those pictures that no one else seems to see. Just a tiny glimpse of my soul maybe, a passing reflection on a piece of glass . . . If you were me, by now you might be wondering if you had any soul left at all. Well, I had one of those Kirlian photographs taken once at a new age fair—and there supposedly was my soul, my aura, staring back at me. Yes, maybe there is still some of my soul to go around.

For those times when I wanted to blank out parts of my life or when I was dealing with some depression, there was nothing better than heroin. Nothing.

To this day, when the band separates at the airport and we all go our different ways, I still get that gut reaction. Separation. I hate parting with people and i hate goodbyes.

I would just walk around, not looking for anything particular, looking for everything really, and ingesting and digesting it all. Art, music, theater, poetry, and the sense that everything was up for grabs, you just had to see what fit. I was desperate to live in New York and be an artist.

Coincidence: it's supposed to mean just these random, disconnected events that concur or collide. But coincidence is not that at all. It's the stuff that's meant to be. Things that are supposed to be drawn together, as if by some extra-earthly magnetic force. Things that connect and become woven and then shoot off to form previously unimagined combinations. Small changes that tumble into a fresh dynamic-as coincidence and chaos give birth to a new creation. Coincidence: the "divine intervener" that pushes us to make happen what was always supposed to happen...

The people who are prosecuting many of these delegitimization campaigns are not fringe characters. They include Nancy Pelosi, Harry Reid, Debbie Wasserman Schultz, senior White House aides, administrators and professors of major public and private universities, and the president of the United States. Major media figures and major liberal activist groups consistently carry water for the illiberal left. These are all people who call themselves liberal, and who claim to believe in tolerance, while behaving in the most illiberal manner imaginable.

Ketika aku membaca artikel tentang kafe baru, yang terlintas di pikiranku adalah, Nanti kapan-kapan ajak Bastian makan di sini ah... Ketika aku melihat toko Sports Station atau Athlete Foot dan ada sepatu model baru, aku membatin, Bastian pasti suka sepatu ini! Ketika aku membaca tentang Harry Potter World di Florida, Amerika, aku berpikir bahwa nanti honeymoon kami akan pergi ke sana. Setiap kali aku mendengar berita kecelakaan pesawat, aku langsung berdoa dengan khusyuk supaya Bastian selalu dilindungi Tuhan. Dan aku masih melakukannya hingga kini. Tak ada yang berubah, kecuali setiap kali pikiran itu terlintas, ada pikiran lain yang lebih besar, lebih kejam, seperti truk yang melaju tanpa ampun melindas becak: Ia bukan lagi milikku.

Your brother's car has been found," he told Jay Marriot. "It's on a little road almost directly across from Sookie's driveway." ... Eric had told me that that little road, a dirt track leading back to a deer camp, was where Debbie Pelt had hidden her car when she'd come to kill me. Might as well put up a sign: PARKING FOR SOOKIE STACKHOUSE NIGHTTIME ATTACKS.

As the spiritual coordinator for this part of Tacoma, Celeste Chapeaux had been assigned to oversee Harry.

Felipe looked at him sharply. “I must remind you—unless I’m much mistaken—Miss Stackhouse took out either Bruno or Corinna. Even Pam couldn’t have handled both of them at the same time.” I kept on smiling. “Which one was it, Miss Stackhouse?” There was another fraught silence. I wished we had background music. Anything would be better than this dead air. Pam stirred, looked at me almost apologetically. “Bruno,” Pam said. “Sookie killed Bruno, while I took care of Corinna.” “How did you do that, Miss Stackhouse?” Felipe said. Even Horst looked interested and impressed, which was not a good thing. “It was kind of an accident.” “You are too modest,” the king murmured skeptically. “Really, it was.” I remembered the driving rain and the cold, the cars parked on the shoulders of the interstate on a terrible dark night. “It was sure pouring buckets that night,” I said quietly. Tumbling over and over down into the ditch running with chilly water, a desperate pawing to find the silver knife, sliding it into Bruno. “Was this the same kind of accident you had when you killed Lorena? Or Sigebert? Or the Were woman?” Wow, how’d he know about Debbie? Or maybe he meant Sandra? And his list was by no means complete. “Yeah. That kind of accident.

Just as I was sure this excruciating interview was at an end and she was on her way out, Freyda turned. “Is it true you killed Lorena Ball?” she asked, her voice cool and indifferent. “Yeah.” My eyes didn’t leave her. Now we were on very, very delicate ground. “Did you have anything to do with the death of Kym Rowe?” “I don’t even know who that is,” Freyda said. “But I’ll find out. Did you also kill Bruno, Victor’s second?” I didn’t say anything. I returned her look. She shook her head, as if she could hardly believe it. “And a shapeshifter or two?” she asked. In Debbie Pelt’s case, I’d used a shotgun. Not the same thing as hand-to-hand combat. I lifted one shoulder slightly, which she could take as she chose. “What about fairies?” she said, smiling slightly, apparently at how ridiculous a question she was asking me. “Yeah,” I said without elaborating. “Right outside this house, as a matter of fact.” Her rich brown eyes narrowed. Clearly, Freyda was having second thoughts about something.

Coincidence...Coincidence came calling for me big-time in the early seventies. Coincidence: it's supposed to mean just these random, disconnected events that concur or collide. But coincidence is not that at all. It's the stuff that's meant to be.

It’s funny how the entertainment industry was so scared of hip-hop. Chris and I were so turned on by it. Chris was so buzzed that he talked to some people in the music industry about all these great bands. Every one of them told him that rap was a fad and it would soon go away.

(Five stars) A CHARMING, MODERN DAY FAIRY TALE By Tim Janson...with this book you really get an old-fashioned fairy tale told with today's tribulations. It's a light, fun read, filled with humor, wit and charm. While any kids in the 7 - 14 age range would enjoy the story, I think it especially speaks to young girls who can relate more keenly to the problems endured by the main characters. The book is beautifully illustrated by Andy Park and features a number of full-page illustrations that perfectly complement the story written By Debbie Bishop. The pair have created a story with lively characters that come to life before your eyes. Highly recommended! FIVE STARS! The Fairies of Bladderwhack Pond is a great story for kids and teens alike! This wonderful fairytale has modern references to kids as they live today. It’s like Harry Potter for kid’s today! Debbie has created a really fun book that will be cherished! --amazon reader

I had my baby shower at the Garage when I was pregnant with Paulo. Debbie Harry of Blondie and Andy Warhol threw it for me. That’s showing you normal. (Paulo and Keith Haring would also become very close; to Paulo, he was Uncle Keith. They would draw together, like it was the most fun you could have in the world.)

We live in a disposable, transient-feeling world and usually after five years you go on to the next thing, maybe now even less than five years.