Em Tiffany Quotes

And what do you really do?" asked Tiffany. The thin witch hesitated for a moment, and then: "We look to ... the edges," said Mistress Weatherwax. "There's a lot of edges, more than people know. Between life and death, this world and the next, night and day, right and wrong ... an' they need watchin'. We watch 'em, we guard the sum of things. And we never ask for any reward. That's important.

Now that’s what I call magic—seein’ all that, dealin’ with all that, and still goin’ on. It’s sittin’ up all night with some poor old man who’s leavin’ the world, taking away such pain as you can, comfortin’ their terror, seein’ ‘em safely on their way…and then cleanin’ ‘em up, layin’ ‘em out, making ‘em neat for the funeral, and helpin’ the weeping widow strip the bed and wash the sheets—which is, let me tell you, no errand for the fainthearted—and stayin’ up the next night to watch over the coffin before the funeral, and then going home and sitting down for five minutes before some shouting angry man comes bangin’ on your door ‘cuz his wife’s havin’ difficulty givin’ birth to their first child and the midwife’s at her wits’ end and then getting up and fetching your bag and going out again…We all do that, in our own way, and she does it better’n me, if I was to put my hand on my heart. That is the root and heart and soul and center of witchcraft, that is. The soul and center!

Nanny Ogg scowled and said, "Granny never said as she was better than others. She just got on with it and showed 'em and people worked it out for themselves.

Some men know the exact amount of money in their bank accounts,” she continued. “Other men know how many miles are on their car and how many more miles it’ll handle. Other men know the batting average of their favorite baseball player and more other men know the exact sum Uncle Sam has screwed ’em. Your father knows no such figures. The only numbers Landon Carpenter has in his head are the numbers of stars in the sky on the days his children were born. I don’t know about you, but I would say that a man who has skies in his head full of the stars of his children, is a man who deserves his child’s love. Especially from the child with the most stars.

Imagine havin' wings, Betty. There wouldn't be nothin' too high. Nothin' you wouldn't be able to get to the top of. You can't fall with wings. God wasted 'em on birds and bats. He should have given wings to us.

How are you going to get revenge against dead people? Dig ’em up and stake ’em through the heart?” “I asked myself that same question, and I think I know the answer. You destroy what they loved, and you love what they destroyed.

Crivens!’ ‘Oh no, not them,’ said the Queen, throwing up her hands. It wasn’t just the Nac Mac Feegles, but also Wentworth, a strong smell of seaweed, a lot of water and a dead shark. They appeared in mid-air and landed in a heap between Tiffany and the Queen. But a pictsie was always ready for a fight, and they bounced, rolled and came up drawing their swords and shaking sea water out of their hair. ‘Oh, ‘tis you, izzut?’ said Rob Anybody, glaring up at the Queen. ‘Face to face wi’ ye at last, ye bloustie ol’ callyack that ye are! Ye canna’ come here, unnerstand? Be off wi’ ye! Are ye goin’ to go quietly?’ The Queen stamped heavily on him. When she took her foot away, only the top of his head was visible above the turf. ‘Well, are ye?’ he said, pulling himself out as if nothing had happened. ‘I don’t wantae havtae lose my temper wi’ ye! An’ it’s no good sendin’ your pets against us, ‘cos you ken we can take ‘em tae the cleaners!’ He turned to Tiffany, who hadn’t moved. ‘You just leave this tae us, Kelda. Us an’ the Quin, we go way back!

Aye,” said Rob Anybody. “Gods, elementals, demons, spirits . . . sometimes it’s hard to tell ’em apart wi’oot a map.

How does she do that?” Bird asked. I didn’t have to ask who the she was. I knew it was Tiffany. Nor did I have to ask what Bird was referring to. Jason and Mac were leaning toward Tiffany, listening to whatever it was she was saying, like it was the most interesting thing in the world. “Does she wear, like, turn-’em-stupid perfume or something?” Bird asked.

Geraldine nodded and headed for Mrs. Armstrong's lawn. I felt sorry for her in her carrot pajamas, having no idea what was really going on. I followed the other girls and stood behind the shrubs. Mrs. Armstrong's house was ginormous. Her house was even bigger than Aunt Jeanie's. There was one light on upstairs. I figured that was the bedroom. The rest of the house was dark. Geraldine went to the far end of the yard and removed a can of spray paint from the bag. She shook it and began to spray. "She's such an idiot," Ava said, taking out her phone to record Geraldine's act of vandalism. "You guys are going to get her into so much trouble," I said. "So what?" Hannah replied. "She got us in trouble at the soup kitchen, it's not like she's ever going to become a Silver Rose anyway. She's totally wasting her time." Geraldine slowly made her way up and down the huge yard carefully spraying the grass. It would take her forever to complete it and there wasn't nearly enough spray paint. "Hey, guys!" Geraldine yelled from across the lawn. "How about I spray a rose in the grass? That would be cool, right?" I cringed. The light on upstairs meant the Armstrongs were still awake. Geraldine was about to get us all caught. "O-M-G," Hannah moaned. "Shhhh," Summer hissed, but Geraldine kept screaming at the top of her lungs. "Well, what do you guys think?" My heart dropped into my stomach as a light from downstairs clicked on. We ducked behind the hedges and froze. "Who's out there?" called a man's voice. I couldn't see him and I couldn't see Geraldine. I heard the door close and I peeked over the hedges. "He went back inside," I whispered, ducking back down. At that moment something went shk-shk-shk and Geraldine screamed. We all stood to see what was happening. Someone had turned the sprinklers on and Geraldine was getting soaked. The door flew open and I heard Mrs. Armstrong's voice followed by a dog's vicious barking. "Get 'em, Killer!" "Killer!" Ava screamed and we all took off running down the street with a soggy Geraldine trailing behind us. I was faster than all the other girls. I had no intentions of being gobbled up by a dog named Killer. We stopped running when we got to Ava's street and Killer was nowhere in sight. We walked back to the house at a normal pace. "So, did I prove myself to the sisterhood?" Geraldine asked. Hannah turned to her. "Are you kidding me? Your yelling woke them up, you moron. We got chased down the street by a dog because of you." Geraldine frowned and looked down at the ground. Hopefully what I had told her before about the girls not being her friends was starting to settle in. Inside all the other girls wanted to know what had happened. Ava was giving them the gory details when a knock on the door interrupted her. It was Mrs. Armstrong. She had on a black bathrobe and her hair was in curlers. I chuckled to myself because I was used to seeing her look absolutely perfect. We all sat on our sleeping bags looking as innocent as possible except for Geraldine who still stood awkwardly by the door, dripping wet. Mrs. Armstrong cleared her throat. "Someone has just vandalized my lawn with spray paint. Silver spray paint. Since I know it's a tradition for the Silver Roses to pull a prank on me on the night of the retreat, I'm going to assume it was one of you. More specifically, the one who's soaking wet right now." All eyes went to Geraldine. She looked at the ground and said nothing. What could she possibly say to defend herself? She even had silver spray paint on her fingers. Mrs. Armstrong looked her up and down. "Young lady, this is your second strike and that's two strikes too many. Your bid to become a Junior Silver Rose is for the second time hereby revoked." Geraldine's shoulders drooped, but most of the girls were smirking. This had been their plan all along and they had accomplished it.

You smell good. Who’s this ‘guy’ you’re meeting? Are you back on the market?” He wiggled both blond eyebrows at me. “Does that mean Doc Nyce is no longer petting your cat?” I frowned. “Petting my cat?” What did Bogart, our vegetarian cat, have to do with Doc? Jeff leaned in for another sniff. “I’m really good at petting cats, too.” Oh, dear Lord! My brain had finally dipped low enough into the gutter to catch Jeff’s meaning. I shoved him back a step. “Doc is still petting my …” No! Just walk away, doofus. I started to do just that, but then stopped and turned back. In case Tiffany was going to be hearing the play-by-play of my run-in with Jeff, I wanted to clarify things so the red-headed siren wouldn’t get any ideas about trying to steal Doc away from me. We’d done that song and dance before, and there would be no encores on that score. “Doc Nyce is still my boyfriend,” I announced. Sheesh, “boyfriend” was such a silly word for a woman my age. “I mean, we’re a definite couple in all the ways.” Jeff grinned. “Which ways are those?” “You know, the ‘couple’ ways.” When he just stared at me with a dumb grin, I added, “Boom, boom, out goes the lights.” His laughter rang out loud and clear, catching the attention of people on the opposite side of the street. “I’m not sure if you know this, Violet Parker, but that old song actually refers to landing a knock-out punch.” Thinking back on all the times I’d pinched, elbowed, and tackled Doc, including the black eye I’d accidentally given him, I shrugged. “Sex with Doc is amazingly physical. He’s a real heavy hitter under the sheets, delivering a solid one-two sock-’em every time.” I wasn’t sure what I was alluding to by this point, but I kept throwing out boxing slang to fill the void. “I’d give you the real dirty blow-by-blow, but we don’t sell ringside tickets for our wild sex matches.” His jaw gaped. “No kidding?” Before my big mouth unleashed another round of idiotic sex-boxing ambiguities, I said, “See you around, Jeff.

It was amazing, though,” Tiffany said. “Flying seemed so natural to him.” “Ha!” said Nanny. “Every man has a broomstick in the house, but they just don’t often know how to use ’em!

How does she do that?” Bird asked. I didn’t have to ask who the she was. I knew it was Tiffany. Nor did I have to ask what Bird was referring to. Jason and Mac were leaning toward Tiffany, listening to whatever it was she was saying, like it was the most interesting thing in the world. “Does she wear, like, turn-’em-stupid perfume or something?” Bird asked. “I don’t know. Maybe guys like thinking they’re way smarter than girls.” “It’s gotta be an act. No one is that brainless.” She grimaced. “I don’t mean to dis your sister, but really, does anyone think the moon actually turns blue?” Yeah, Tiffany had asked, “So when does the moon turn blue?” Mac had laughed and explained that a blue moon was the second full moon in a month, that a full moon appeared every twenty-nine nights, and so it was truly rare to have two full moons in any given month. He’d said he’d taken a class in astronomy. “Oh, I love astronomy. I’m a Pisces. What sign are you?” Which had made Mac laugh again, and he started to explain the difference between astronomy and astrology. Tiffany was apparently absolutely fascinated…and fascinating. His gaze--and Jason’s--was riveted on her. I gave another little shrug, feeling a need to defend my sister, who might be in need of a trip down the yellow brick road to ask the wizard for some brains. “I wasn’t exactly sure what a blue moon was, either.” “But you know the difference between astronomy and astrology.

He offered her a cigarette. She took it with her head down. "Fray?" His voice was soft. Like the first beams of light in the morning. She left the cigarette in her mouth for so long, she began to look older than nineteen years. "I once dreamed you had a million eyes and not one of 'em was lookin' at me," she said on an exhale of smoke. "I liked that dream.

The strong used the weak and got away with crimes that destroyed the lives of millions. It made no sense to be used. She chose to believe in logic, which said if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em. Tiffany

Those lights up there." Poke, poke, poke. "We're told they're all nuclear reaction and energy," she said like a scientist. "Stars, the romantics call'em. But they ain't stars. Stars don't exist for us. Somewhere out there is a world that we're the insects to. Someone in that world has caught us. This planet we call home is really just a jar they keep us in. A big jar to us, but a small jar to them. Those lights are our airholes showin' through to the light of the world we are too small for. I'm pokin' more airholes for us to breathe. Sometimes I think we're all gonna suffocate. Help me, Betty. Help me poke a hole big enough for us to fly out of.

Well," said Nanny Ogg, "you can count on me. I’ve always been a fighter. You has to be a fighter to be a witch. We don’t have to worry – they does. If you can get an elf down and kick it about a bit, it’s not goin’ to be so glamorous as it was. Take it from me, even elves has soft parts which don’t like no boot in ’em.

After I told Pappy what I saw, he forced Brother to eat the Bible, page by page, in order to swallow his sin. Brother fought back, but Pappy always was a strong man. Halfway through Adam and Eve’s saga, Pappy had crammed so many pages into Brother’s mouth, his cheeks were stretched full of ’em. Even after Brother choked to death, Pappy kept addin’ pages until Brother’s lips were forced open so wide, they started to tear at the corners.

When I grow up, Mamaw Milkweed,” Daffy would say, “I’m gonna have my own flower bulb catalog and mail them to you so you can buy from me. Every flower that blooms will be because I gave ’em to the world.

Harry, nunca existe uma resposta perfeita neste mundo confuso e perturbado. A perfeição está fora do alcance da humanidade, fora do alcance da magia. Em cada momento luminoso de felicidade há esta gota de veneno: o conhecimento de que a dor voltará. Seja sincero com aqueles que ama, mostre sua dor. Sofrer é tão humano quanto respirar.

En aquell moment, sento llàstima per la Tiffani. Em fa llàstima, perquè troba satisfacció a fer mal a la gent. Em fa llàstima, perquè utilitza les febleses dels altres en el seu benefici

Como ilustração das mudanças de direção nos rumos tomados pelos negócios, uma guinada racional e oportunista, tenha em mente o seguinte exemplo: a Coca-Cola começou como um produto farmacêutico. A Tiffany & Co., chiquérrima empresa do ramo de comércio de joias, foi fundada como loja de artigos de papelaria. Os dois exemplos talvez sejam próximos, mas veja este: a Raytheon, que criou o primeiro sistema de orientação de mísseis, era uma fabricante de geladeiras (um de seus fundadores foi ninguém menos que Vannevar Bush, que concebeu o modelo linear teleológico de ciência que vimos anteriormente; vai entender!). Agora, pior: a Nokia, que costumava ser a maior fabricante mundial de telefones celulares, começou como uma fábrica de papel (em algum momento, dedicou-se à produção de sapatos de borracha). A DuPont, empresa hoje famosa por suas panelas antiaderentes de teflon, bancadas de cozinha de corian e o resistente tecido kevlar, no início era uma fabricante de explosivos. A Avon, empresa de cosméticos, começou vendendo livros de porta em porta. E, a mais estranha de todas, a Oneida Silversmiths, fabricante de artigos de prata, era um culto comunitário religioso, mas, por motivos de regulamentação legal, precisou usar como disfarce o modelo de sociedade anônima.