Flash Superhero Quotes

I frown. “Can you please explain this?” He flashes us a grin. “That would ruin the suspense.” He disappears.

All superheroes had pretty much the same problem. Batman was flash and sexy compared to Bruce Wayne and even Robin was a lot cooler than Dick Grayson. As for Superman, well. It was a fucking miracle that Clark Kent had never committed suicide.

And so you're left with a choice. You can either embrace the change and move forward. Or fight it and be left behind.

Amazing? My heart fluttered. “But I don’t want Flash or Harry,” I murmured. “You want Spider-Man,” he finished for me, looking a little wistful. I shrugged. “And Peter Parker.” He looked at me, very seriously. “Then don’t settle,” he said.

So I’m the Flash?" Xik frowned, baffled. "Afraid I’m not familiar." "He’s a superhero." "Superhero?" "A hero," Daniel said, "only super." "…how illuminating." "Don’t worry about it.

Blood pressure check!” The doorknob rattled, as if the nurse were intending just to walk in, but the lock held, thank God. The nurse knocked again. “Oh, shit,” Gina breathed, laughing as she scrambled off of him. She reached to remove the condom they’d just used, encountered . . . him, and met his eyes. But then she scooped her clothes off the floor and ran into the bathroom. “Mr. Bhagat?” The nurse knocked on the door again. Even louder this time. “Are you all right?” Oh, shit, indeed. “Come in,” Max called as he pulled up the blanket and leaned on the button that put his bed back up into a sitting position. The same control device had a “call nurse” button as well as the clearly marked one that would unlock the door. “It’s locked,” the nurse called back, as well he knew. “Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, as he wiped off his face with the edge of the sheet. Sweat much in bed, all alone, Mr. Bhagat? “I must’ve . . . Here, let me figure out how to . . .” He took an extra second to smooth his hair, his pajama top, and then, praying that the nurse had a cold and couldn’t smell the scent of sex that lingered in the air, he hit the release. “Please don’t lock your door during the day,” the woman scolded him as she came into the room, around to the side of his bed. It was Debra Forsythe, a woman around his age, whom Max had met briefly at his check-in. She had been on her way home to deal with some crisis with her kids, and hadn’t been happy then, either. “And not at night either,” she added, “until you’ve been here a few days.” “Sorry.” He gave her an apologetic smile, hanging on to it as the woman gazed at him through narrowed eyes. She didn’t say anything, she just wrapped the blood pressure cuff around his arm, and pumped it a little too full of air—ow—as Gina opened the bathroom door. “Did I hear someone at the door?” she asked brightly. “Oh, hi. Debbie, right?” “Debra.” She glanced at Gina, and then back, her disgust for Max apparent in the tightness of her lips. But then she focused on the gauge, stethoscope to his arm. Gina came out into the room, crossing around behind the nurse, making a face at him that meant . . .? Max sent her a questioning look, and she flashed him. She just lifted her skirt and gave him a quick but total eyeful. Which meant . . . Ah, Christ. The nurse turned to glare at Gina, who quickly straightened up from searching the floor. What was it with him and missing underwear? Gina smiled sweetly. “His blood pressure should be nice and low. He’s very relaxed—he just had a massage.” “You know, I didn’t peg you for a troublemaker when you checked in yesterday,” Debra said to Max, as she wrote his numbers on the chart. Gina was back to scanning the floor, but again, she straightened up innocently when the nurse turned toward her. “I think you’re probably looking for this.” Debra leaned over and . . . Gina’s panties dangled off the edge of her pen. They’d been on the floor, right at the woman’s sensibly clad feet. “Oops,” Gina said. Max could tell that she was mortified, but only because he knew her so well. She forced an even sunnier smile, and attempted to explain. “It was just . . . he was in the hospital for so long and . . .” “And men have needs,” Debra droned, clearly unmoved. “Believe me, I’ve heard it all before.” “No, actually,” Gina said, still trying to turn this into something they could all laugh about, “I have needs.” But it was obvious that this nurse hadn’t laughed since 1985. “Then maybe you should find someone your own age to play with. A professional hockey player just arrived. He’s in the east wing. Second floor.” She lowered her voice conspiratorially. “Lots of money. Just your type, I’m sure.” “Excuse me?” Gina wasn’t going to let one go past. She may not have been wearing any panties, but her Long Island attitude now waved around her like a superhero’s cape. She even assumed the battle position, hands on her hips.

In her socks, Egg glides down the hallway, as if on ice. She's like the Flash, so fast you can see only a blur The Flash is almost invisible, but it's the almost that troubles her, the red streak of almost that catches the eye. Superheroes save the day. She knows they are fiction, but a part of her wants so much for them to be real, like Newton's equal and opposite forces.

That is righteous, blondie! Hey, we need to come up with superhero names. How about capes—and codpieces? Just think about the idea for now, chew it over for a bit, let me know,” he said. “Hey, do you guys ever hear . . . voices?” I groaned. “All the time. I thought I was going crazy.” “Duude,” he said in agreement. “And before the Flash, all kinds of freaky shit was happening to me. I started speaking this weird language. And stuff started transforming—but only in front of me. I saw my cat walking on the ceiling, saw lava coming out of a faucet. The worst? I was doing this girl, and suddenly she looked like my gym teacher!” He shuddered. And I’d thought I had it bad. Matthew and Finn had also suffered. “What’d your parents think?” I asked, wondering if Finn had gotten institutionalized too. “Dad couldn’t handle my ‘erratic behavior’ anymore, so he pawned me off on Mom. Same result. They were just about to break out the straitjacket—or, worse, military school—when she got the brilliant idea to ship me from Malibu to North Carolina to rough it with my redneck cousins.” So Matthew and I hadn’t been the only ones deemed “damaged” by our folks. It made sense, though. I wondered what Selena’s story was. “Yeah, Mom figured they’d toughen me up mentally,” Finn said. “I can’t even make this shit up. Mental health—through the chugging of Natty Light, the chasing of hot hick ass, and the killing of ducks and bucks.

DC Comics is the present day publisher of Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, and other well-known superheroes. DC is the amalgamation of two different publishing concerns: National Comics, which produced Superman and Batman, and sister company All-American Comics, which produced Wonder Woman, Flash, and Green Lantern. The two companies merged in 1944 to form National Periodical Publications, whose comic books bore the “Superman-DC” logo. The publisher was known colloquially as “DC,” which it later adopted as its official name.

Everything’s collecting data,” one of the boys said. His name was Michael and he was always asking Sankofa to attend the flash parties he liked to organize. “All these devices we use are spies. That’s why you’re like a superhero; they can’t control you. You wearing hijab now must drive the spies crazy because they can’t easily see your face.

You think you know everything about Thanksgiving, don’t you? …How the Native Americans saved the Pilgrims from starving… How the Pilgrims held a big feast to celebrate and say thank you: turkey, pumpkin pie, cranberries--the works. Well, listen up. I have a news flash… WE ALMOST LOST…THANKSGIVING! Didn’t know that, did you? It’s true. Way, way back, when skirts were long and hats were tall, Thanksgiving was fading away. Sure, the folks up in New England celebrated it. They’d roast a turkey and invite the relatives when the harvest came in. But not in the South, not in the West, not even in the Middle Atlantic states. More and more, people ignored the holiday. Thanksgiving was in trouble. It needed… A SUPERHERO!

Your problem is that you have never fully understood the power of being a desired woman.” My mind flashes back to a night in Robert’s bed. I had climbed on top of him, refused him until he said, “Please.” Asha smiles, reading my mind. “Power between the sheets means nothing if you don’t learn to extend its reach outside of the bedroom.” I look away. The room seems to be getting colder. I rub the back of my arms for warmth. “You don’t have to believe me,” Asha continues. “It’s in the stories of your religion. Adam and Eve, Samson and Delilah, Salome and her dance of the Seven Veils: they all speak to the same undeniable truth. If a woman truly wants something, whether it’s having her man bite into an apple, bringing a divinely appointed superhero to his knees, or a Baptist’s head on a silver platter, she can have it. A woman can have anything if she knows how to use what God gave her.

Jack, R U alrite? That was the first text I got from Tom, my best friend. I peeked out from under the comforter to read it, then wrapped the blanket around my head again without replying. I wasn’t in the mood to deal with him right now. I wasn’t in the mood to deal with anyone. I just wanted to lie in the dark and pretend I didn’t exist. The cell phone buzzed again. I sighed. I made a little hole, just large enough for my eye, and stared angrily at the phone. I wanted it to realize what it was doing was wrong. That I wanted to be left alone. The phone stared back at me, a small notification light flashing on the top of the device. I picked it up and looked again. R U there? I heard U askd Jasmine 2 the dance! R U crazy??? D: )-:< I wished I was crazy. That would have made everything so much simpler. When I retreated back into my cave this time, I tried putting my pillow on my head too, hoping that it would stop the sound of the phone from cutting into my solitude. I closed my eyes as tightly as I could and tried to wish everything back to normal. That works sometimes in the movies, right? BUZZ BUZZ. “Agh!” I jumped slightly as the phone somehow buzzed even louder this time (how did it do that?) and the pillow flew off my head. Sunlight shone in through the window, blinding me. I squinted and waited for my room to blur into focus. The white walls, my posters of awesome superheroes, my laptop, my guitar… I grumbled as I leaned over and looked at my phone screen again. Wat abt HOLLY? UR GRLFRND? Ppl are sayn she is very upset! I threw the phone down on my bed. It bounced twice and ended up balancing on the edge of the mattress. I didn’t blame Holly. I was also very upset. A few weeks ago, my life had been pretty much perfect. I had the hottest girl in school as my girlfriend, I was a star player on the football team, I had a band that was definitely going to be famous someday soon, and it was all going my way. Now it was all gone, swirling towards disaster. Actually, disaster was a while back. Now things were definitely swirling towards complete chaos. My life was destroyed and I was hiding in my bed. That doesn’t happen in the movies. My phone buzzed again.

I do not have words for what I want to do to Gordon, my loving father, right now. He’s dressed as the Crimson Flash, the world’s moralest superhero, and no one thought to stop him as he dragged a sixteen-year-old boy through the streets of Golden City, going, “It’s okay to be nervous. I was my first time, too. It’s hard to take the plunge, but before you know it, you’re going to be enjoying the ride.” Why couldn’t anybody have taken that out of context and saved me?