Groovy Quotes

Let us thrust aside all the “questions with a single answer”, since the starkness of our imagination can earmark a bountiful logbook to conjure up a widening array of groovy and relevant replies to impending insidious questions. ("Finally things had lost their weightiness")

Be groovy or leave, man

Feelin' groovy!

The Wild Man doesn’t come to full life through being “natural,” going with the flow, smoking weed, reading nothing, and being generally groovy. Ecstasy amounts to living within reach of the high voltage of the golden gifts. The ecstasy comes after thought, after discipline imposed on ourselves, after grief.

Frankly, the image of his father wearing bell-bottoms, smoking a joint, and calling his mother a “totally groovy chick” was wrong on so many levels he wanted to erase the whole thing from his memory

Did Pete cry? Goodness no. Buttons come, and buttons go.

There should be more natural disasters. I like those because you can't blame anyone. You can't put an earthquake on trial. You can't send a flood to the chair. Look at the fucking zoo I live in. All these bent up little players running around through the ruins saying, "Isn't this groovy and decadent? Cool!" Looking like Death and thinking they're something. I would like to help. I really would. I wonder if the guy at the gun store would give me a discount on the bullets I'll need if I told him what I was up to.

In the real world, babysitting is a groovy way for young people to learn responsibility (and earn a little pocket money). In the Terrorverse, it's a plot device used to kill teenagers.

Gingee, Gingee, it's meeeeeeeeeeee!!!' I could hear her panting up the stairs to my room. She kicked open my bedroom door and ran from the door and leapt onto the bed, covering me with kisses. 'I LOBE you, my big big sister.' I couldn't get her off me. 'Libby, just let me...' 'Kissy kissy kiss, snoggy snog.' 'That's enough, now let me...' 'Mmmmmm, groovy baby.' What is she talking about? She is supposed to be in kindergarten to learn how to grow up, not turn into an even madder person. Then she stood up on the bed and starting thrusting her hips out and singing her favorite: 'Sex bum sex bum I am a sex bum.' Quite spectacularly mad.

Groovy? Is that some kind of code word?

I guess it simply goes to show that stuff will come and stuff will go. But do we cry? Goodness, NO! We keep on singing.

Life is so groovy when your record is hot.

She a nice lady ol auntie … but ol moms was somethin else, she really somethin else. Harrys eyes were closed and he was leanin back remembering how his mother always protected him from the cold wind in the winter when he was a kid, and how warm she felt when he got in the house and she hugged the cold out of his ears and cheeks and always had a bowl of hot soup waiting. … Yeah, I guess the old lady was pretty groovy too. I guess its a bitch being alone like that. Harry Goldfarb and Tyrone C. Love sat loosely in their chairs, their eyes half closed, feeling the warmth of fond memories and heroin flowing through them as they got ready for another nights work.

Witches have always been women who dared to be: groovy, courageous, aggressive, intelligent, nonconformist, explorative, curious, independent, sexually liberated, revolutionary. -W.I.T.C.H

May, will you please, kindly DIG it," he remembered one of them saying, "and hold up on all those wonderful seven-dollar questions? If you got to ask what IS it all the time, you'll never get time to KNOW.

I will be here dancing with you for as long as we want to get groovy. All right, that was truly lame. I’ll quit writing now before this really goes off the rails.

GIRLS OF THE WORLD, UNITE AND TAKE OVER! GROOVY ALL FEMALE WORLD NOW!!

He wore pointy-toed leather shoes, designer pants that were way too tight, and a god-awful silk shirt with the top three buttons open. Maybe he thought he looked like a groovy love god, but the guy couldn’t have weighed more than ninety pounds, and he had a bad case of acne.

Hippocrates was so great that today’s doctors still take the Oath of Hippocrates (though it has been modified during the 20th century)

After they had lost the war with Sparta the Athenians looked for someone to blame. They blamed the old teacher, Socrates. Being a rather groovy guy, he was always hanging around with young people, telling them not to believe in the old gods.

Tell Penny how groovy it was of her to set up this little get-together, oh, and hey—can I be frank for a minute?” “Of course,” said Agents Flatweed and Borderline. Snapping his fingers, Doc sang himself out the door with four bars of “Fly Me to the Moon,

You are the composer and conductor and thus decide what key of life to live. I choose major over minor whenever I can.

Life was groovy, it was fun; it couldn’t change in a jiffy. It dawned upon me that Life is a Sine Curve, and it is nothing but iffy.

Carrie Allsop, you are never the woman no one will ask to dance. I will be here dancing with you for as long as we want to get groovy.

Feeling groovy, I’m Drowning, freezing, snake surfing Life is good, Batman!

At Camp Don Bosco, there were Bibles all over the place, mostly 1970s hippie versions like Good News for Modern Man. They had groovy titles like The Word or The Way, and translated the Bible into “contemporary English,” which meant Saul yelling at Jonathan, “You son of a bitch!” (I Samuel 20:30). Awesome! The King James version gave this verse as “Thou son of the perverse rebellious woman,” which was bogus in comparison. Maybe these translations went a bit far. I recall one of the Bibles translating the inscription over the cross, “INRI” (Iesus Nazaremus Rex Iudaeorum), as “SSDD” (Same Shit Different Day), and another describing the Last Supper — the night before Jesus’ death, a death he freely accepted — where Jesus breaks the bread, gives it to his disciples, and says, “It’s better to burn out than fade away,” but these memories could be deceptive.

The Wild Man can only come to full life inside when the man has gone through the serious disciplines suggested by taking the first wound, doing kitchen and ashes work, creating a garden, bringing wild flowers to the Holy Woman, experiencing the warrior, riding the red, the white, and the black horses, learning to create art, and receiving the second heart. The Wild Man doesn’t come to full life through being “natural,” going with the flow, smoking weed, reading nothing, and being generally groovy. Ecstasy amounts to living within reach of the high voltage of the golden gifts. The ecstasy comes after thought, after discipline imposed on ourselves, after grief.

Greeks heard the poems read on stage while a group of dancers performed. Then a clever poet called Aeschylus came along and had a great idea. He put a second reader on stage. Now you had a ‘play’ –the first drama in the world.

I’m very helpful until she’s finished with problem thirty-one. “How’d I do?” she asks. “Groovy. Once you’ve divided by Y, you didn’t have any more problems.” She beams down at her paper. “Also? You look really touchable in that sweater. Just saying.

I think you have boundary problems," Groovy said. "There's such a thing as too-strict boundaries, you know. You're all cut off from everybody." "I am?". I felt just the opposite. I felt like I bled over everything, in an unseemly fashion, and my feelings for Sands was exacerbating this.

Stay groovy/To keep the axis turning so that love follows music as the night the day/You hypnotize people to where they go right back to their natural state,like in childhood when you get natural highs.And when they come down off,they see clearer,feel different things.It’s all spiritual/The idea is to get your own self together/What you do is your religion" 《Starting at Zero》

One of the benefits of TM, Agatha had said, was that it enabled you to be "alone with your thoughts." But as I quickly discovered, a lot of my thoughts were not anything I wanted to be alone with.

The oldest written poem was by the Greek, Homer. His poem, The Iliad, tells the story of the siege of Troy, a story of the heroes who fought to the death to get Helen back to her hubby, King Menelaus.

Irrelevant’ Chris Fogle turns a page. Howard Cardwell turns a page. Ken Wax turns a page. Matt Redgate turns a page. ‘Groovy’ Bruce Channing attaches a form to a file. Ann Williams turns a page. Anand Singh turns two pages at once by mistake and turns one back which makes a slightly different sound. David Cusk turns a page. Sandra Pounder turns a page. Robert Atkins turns two separate pages of two separate files at the same time. Ken Wax turns a page. Lane Dean Jr. turns a page. Olive Borden turns a page. Chris Acquistipace turns a page. David Cusk turns a page. Rosellen Brown turns a page. Matt Redgate turns a page. R. Jarvis Brown turns a page. Ann Williams sniffs slightly and turns a page. Meredith Rand does something to a cuticle. ‘Irrelevant’ Chris Fogle turns a page. Ken Wax turns a page. Howard Cardwell turns a page. Kenneth ‘Type of Thing’ Hindle detaches a Memo 402-C(1) from a file. ‘Second-Knuckle’ Bob McKenzie looks up briefly while turning a page. David Cusk turns a page. A yawn proceeds across one Chalk’s row by unconscious influence. Ryne Hobratschk turns a page. Latrice Theakston turns a page. Rotes Group Room 2 hushed and brightly lit, half a football field in length. Howard Cardwell shifts slightly in his chair and turns a page. Lane Dean Jr. traces his jaw’s outline with his ring finger. Ed Shackleford turns a page. Elpidia Carter turns a page. Ken Wax attaches a Memo 20 to a file. Anand Singh turns a page. Jay Landauer and Ann Williams turn a page almost precisely in sync although they are in different rows and cannot see each other. Boris Kratz bobs with a slight Hassidic motion as he crosschecks a page with a column of figures. Ken Wax turns a page. Harriet Candelaria turns a page. Matt Redgate turns a page. Ambient room temperature 80° F. Sandra Pounder makes a minute adjustment to a file so that the page she is looking at is at a slightly different angle to her. ‘Irrelevant’ Chris Fogle turns a page. David Cusk turns a page. Each Tingle’s two-tiered hemisphere of boxes. ‘Groovy’ Bruce Channing turns a page. Ken Wax turns a page. Six wigglers per Chalk, four Chalks per Team, six Teams per group. Latrice Theakston turns a page. Olive Borden turns a page. Plus administration and support. Bob McKenzie turns a page. Anand Singh turns a page and then almost instantly turns another page. Ken Wax turns a page. Chris ‘The Maestro’ Acquistipace turns a page. David Cusk turns a page. Harriet Candelaria turns a page. Boris Kratz turns a page. Robert Atkins turns two separate pages. Anand Singh turns a page. R. Jarvis Brown uncrosses his legs and turns a page. Latrice Theakston turns a page. The slow squeak of the cart boy’s cart at the back of the room. Ken Wax places a file on top of the stack in the Cart-Out box to his upper right. Jay Landauer turns a page. Ryne Hobratschk turns a page and then folds over the page of a computer printout that’s lined up next to the original file he just turned a page of. Ken Wax turns a page. Bob Mc-Kenzie turns a page. Ellis Ross turns a page. Joe ‘The Bastard’ Biron-Maint turns a page. Ed Shackleford opens a drawer and takes a moment to select just the right paperclip. Olive Borden turns a page. Sandra Pounder turns a page. Matt Redgate turns a page and then almost instantly turns another page. Latrice Theakston turns a page. Paul Howe turns a page and then sniffs circumspectly at the green rubber sock on his pinkie’s tip. Olive Borden turns a page. Rosellen Brown turns a page. Ken Wax turns a page. Devils are actually angels. Elpidia Carter and Harriet Candelaria reach up to their Cart-In boxes at exactly the same time. R. Jarvis Brown turns a page. Ryne Hobratschk turns a page. ‘Type of Thing’ Ken Hindle looks up a routing code. Some with their chin in their hand. Robert Atkins turns a page even as he’s crosschecking something on that page. Ann Williams turns a page. Ed Shackleford searches a file for a supporting document. Joe Biron-Maint turns a page. Ken Wax turns a page.

She rose from her bed full of new resolutions. ‘We must get out and about more,’ she told her startled mother. ‘We must try different things. We are getting groovy.’ She drew up a list of events and activities: concerts, day trips, public meetings. She went in a fit through her address book, writing letters to old friends. She borrowed novels from the library by authors who had never interested her before. She began to teach herself Esperanto, reciting phrases as she polished and swept.

Romantic Quality always correlated with instantaneous impressions. Square Quality always involved multiple considerations that extended over a period of time. Romantic Quality was the present, the here and now of things. Classic Quality was always concerned with more than just the present. The relation of the present to the past and future was always considered. If you conceived the past and future to be all contained in the present, why, that was groovy, the present was what you lived for.

On the one hand, there are people known as straight, regular, square (and there are also cubes and tesseracts), classified, degreed, graduated, and moneyed, who live in little boxes made of ticky-tacky, cultivate lawn order, and want to get things ironed out in nothing flat. On the other, there are bohemians, nuts, bums, freaks, eccentrics, beatifics, whollymen, courtesans, vagrants, and hippies (a name which ought to have something to do with the dangerous curves of women’s hips), who want to experience the universe in a groovy, swinging, ecstatic, syncopated, rock-and-rolling, mind-blown, turned-on, and far-out way.

Probably, it was when I noticed the guy standing next to me at VR sharpshooters. He was about thirteen, I guess, but his clothes were weird. I thought he was some Elvis impersonator’s son. He wore bell-bottom jeans and a red T-shirt with black piping, and his hair was permed and gelled like a New Jersey girl’s on homecoming night. We played a game of sharpshooters together and he said, “Groovy, man. Been here two weeks, and the games keep getting better and better.” Groovy? Later, while we were talking, I said something was “sick,” and he looked at me kind of startled, as if he’d never heard the word used that way before.

Waternish Estate was sold to a Dutchman in the 1960s when Bad-tempered Donald died. In turn, the Dutchman sold a part of the estate to the Scottish singer-songwriter Donovan. Donovan was the first of the British musicians to adopt the flower-power image. He is most famous for the psychedelically fabulous smash hits “Sunshine Superman,” “Season of the Witch” and “The Fat Angel,” and for being the first high-profile British pop star to be arrested for the possession of marijuana. Donovan has a history of being deeply groovy and of being most often confused with Bob Dylan, which reportedly annoys Donovan quite a lot. “Sometime in the early seventies, Bob Dylan bought part of the estate,” Mum tells me. “But he put a water bed on the second floor of the house for whatever it is these hippies get up to, and it came crashing through the ceiling.” “Not Bob Dylan,” I say. “Donovan.” “Who?” Mum says.

I kissed Polly good night as we stood at her front door Now she's quite a proper lady, so I didn't ask for anything more But I was feeling oh so groovy that I went down to the movie And I sat down and guess just what I saw? I saw Polly in a porny Down at the dirty flicks I saw Polly in a porny I didn't know she knew them tricks What I seen nearly struck me blind I never knew she was theatrically inclined I saw Polly in a porny with a pony and it nearly blowed my mind Was she gallopin'? (no no no) Oh was she trottin'? (no no no) Oh was she riding across the country with some tall dark handsome person Oh was she wearin' her cowboy hat? Well, not exactly that But at least I recall she had her spurs on I love ol' Polly in a porny I keep on going back In the very last row I'm singin' low with my coat bouncin' in my lap I spend each dime I can afford I swear she's gonna win an Academy Award I saw Polly in a porny with a pony and the pony seemed a little bored

Catty and Vanessa were vamping it up on the corner of Fairfax and Beverly, in bell-bottoms with exaggerated lacy bells that they must have pulled from Catty's mother's closet. Vanessa gave them the peace sign. "Feeling' groovy." She winked. She had gorgeous skin, movie-star blue eyes, and flawless blond hair. She was wearing a headband and blue-tinted glasses. Catty was forever getting Vanessa into trouble, but they remained best friends. "Love and peace," Catty greeted them. Catty was stylish in an artsy sort of way. Right now, she wore a hand-knit cap with pom-pom ties that hung down to her waist, and her puddle-jumping Doc Martens were so wrong with the bell-bottoms that they looked totally right. Her curly brown hair poked from beneath the fuchsia cap and her brown eyes were framed by granny glasses, probably another steal from her mother. "You like our retro look?" Vanessa giggled at all the cars honking at them.

In Numbers 31, Yahweh commands Moses, in one of the early faith-based initiatives, to exterminate the Midianites, except virgin girls, whom they can keep for themselves. There are no instructions regarding how to distinguish virgins from non-virgins, but “Virgin Inspector“ must have been a pretty groovy profession back then. From a man’s point of view.

They also thought there were spirits called ‘daimons’ around. Some were good and protected you; some were evil and could lead you into wickedness.

Eliminate the word HATE and replace it with LOVE. The words: hate, hatred, hating, haters, hate that, hate this...and so forth. Stop people when they say them. Stop people from expressing any of those words in action. Make the word HATE as old as GROOVY. The word LOVE has been proven to be the most beautiful word. Learn to use it and put it into action - any which way you can.

True enough. Things aren’t like they used to be. Did I ever tell you I was worshipped by a pretty large tribe in the B.C.? It was pretty groovy. Groveling, bowing, human sacrifice…those were the good old days. Not like it is now. There is so much red tape.” She said. “Believe me I remember. I spent years trying to raise a prophet out of them to bring the tribe to Dad’s way. You kept having them sacrificed.

This is stupid. How am I supposed to predict which T-shirts I'm going to want to wear? The whole point about T-shirts is you choose them in the morning according to your mood, like crystals, or aromatherapy oils. Imagine if I woke up in the mood for my “Elvis Is Groovy” T-shirt and I didn't have it with me?

Staying groovy had nothing to do with being cool. It was an expression used by small recon units and sniper teams in hostile terrain. They would tell one another to stay groovy when the danger level was so insanely high they popped amphetamines to stay awake and ready to rock twenty-four/seven, because anything less would get them all killed. Stay groovy; take your pill. Stay groovy; safety off, finger on. Stay groovy; welcome to hell. Stone had left a warning within his message, and Pike wondered why.

The others will all be so jealous we've found hauntees who talk back! This is so groovy! - Lizzie

Doctor Philip

But it was 1969, the love year and you didn’t need a lot of money. People were just friendlier, and atmosphere in this country was groovy.

Danny’s mind drifted to the poem by Yeats. He was pretty sure the title was “The Second Coming.” Those were some groovy lyrics, he thought, and then wondered if he’d just spoken that thought aloud.

I actually used the word “groovy” and she didn’t even flinch, which was worrying on so many levels.

That night, I went to the dance at McLaurrin. It was pretty amazing. The girls put their hands on our shoulders, and we put our hands on their hips, and we rocked slowly to Phil Collins's 'A Groovy Kind of Love,' each couple like a pair of metronomes with giant baby heads.

I will not be provoked and I will not be broken. I ain't going back to where I used to be! I'll only get more groovy from here!

Oh, no, they’ve still expelled you. Your headmaster, Mr. Bonsai, said you had—how did he put it?—un-groovy karma that disrupted the school’s educational aura.

The Grofs’ technique was essentially Tummo cranked up to 11. It involved lying on a floor in a dark room, with loud music playing, breathing as hard and quickly as you could for up to three hours. Willingly breathing to the point of exhaustion, they found, could place patients in a state of stress where they could access subconscious and unconscious thoughts. Essentially, the therapy helped people blow a fuse in their minds so they could return to a state of groovy calm.

groovy monster

Fact is, I’m almost embarrassed to tell you: a dickey is a fake turtleneck sweater. In other words, it’s the neck minus the turtle. You wear it underneath an open-collar, button-down shirt. Back in the sixties it was a very groovy look.

Installation Details for Installing Some Script Engines

I started reading. Was I hallucinating? Had I really once loved this book? And were these truly the views of groovy Berkeley, California, women in the 1970s? Interspersed between paeans to the glory of homemade bread and recipes for cashew gravy were meditations on the nature of women that struck me as so essentialist and retrograde that they might have come from a fundamentalist religious sect. “I would never go on record as saying ‘a woman’s place is in the home,’” wrote one of the authors. “But to my mind the most effective front for social change, the critical point where our efforts will count the most, is not in business or profession … but in the home and community, where the problems start.” In the home, kneading a big batch of cracked wheat bread, was where women—the “nurturant” sex—belonged: “No paycheck comes at the end of the month,” the authors wrote, “and no promotion: the incentive here is much less obvious, and much more worthy of you as a human being.

The only place where he revealed the other Oliver, the machine-Oliver, was when it came to drugs. Second week on campus I scored some groovy Moroccan hash and he absolutely wouldn’t. Told me that he’d spend 17½ years calibrating his head properly and he wasn’t about to let it get messed up now.

Bernard and I always believed that most pop music fits into the board category called rock and roll. Rock and roll was ever changing, and this art form had different genres of classification for the benefit of consumers, like sections in a library or bookstore. Once any genre-folk, soul, rock or even some jazz-reaches a certain position on the pop charts, it does what’s known in the music business as crossing over, and gets played on the Top Forty stations. That’s the reason so many of us own songs by artists from genre’s we normally wouldn't-their hit songs crossed over into the pop Top Forty mainstream. When a genre repeatedly crosses over and comes to dominate the Top Forty, what had originated as an insurgency becomes the new ruling class. This was the path disco had taken-from the margins where it started, a weird combination of underground gay culture and funk and gospel-singing techniques and, in the case of Chic, Jazz-inflected groovy soul. But it was basically all rock and roll, historically speaking, as far as we were concerned. But the media and the industry pitted us against the Knack-the disco kings in their buppie uniforms verses the scrappy white boys. But we never saw it that way. We thought we were all on the same team, even if our voices and songs followed different idioms. Boy, were we naïve. And boy, did things change.

So now when a fight starts up I don't walk away like I used to, I crowd in and wait for those ghost words to start coming up. I've heard chump and howler and groovy, I've heard fuzz and kike and kraut and coon and square and roughhouse and lightweight and freak show and mama's boy and cancer stick and fairy and party hearty and flyboy and knuckle sandwich, and I grab up these expressions, I trap them in my head and I save them. Because every one has the DNA of a whole life in it, a life where those words fit in and made sense because everyone else was saying them, too.

Norm Zuckerman was approaching seventy and as CEO of Zoom, a megasize sports manufacturing conglomerate, he had more money than Trump. He looked, however, like a beatnik trapped in a bad acid trip. Retro, Norm had explained earlier, was cresting, and he was catching the wave by wearing a psychedelic poncho, fatigue pants, love beads, and an earring with a dangling peace sign. Groovy, man. His black-to-gray beard was unruly enough to nest beetle larvae, his hair newly curled like something out of a bad production of Godspell. Che

scripting language is a programming language that provides you with the ability to write scripts that are evaluated (or interpreted) by a runtime environment called a script engine (or an interpreter). A script is a sequence of characters that is written using the syntax of a scripting language and used as the source for a program executed by an interpreter. The interpreter parses the scripts, produces intermediate code, which is an internal representation of the program, and executes the intermediate code. The interpreter stores the variables used in a script in data structures called symbol tables. Typically, unlike in a compiled programming language, the source code (called a script) in a scripting language is not compiled but is interpreted at runtime. However, scripts written in some scripting languages may be compiled into Java bytecode that can be run by the JVM. Java 6 added scripting support to the Java platform that lets a Java application execute scripts written in scripting languages such as Rhino JavaScript, Groovy, Jython, JRuby, Nashorn JavaScript, and so on. Two-way communication is supported. It also lets scripts access Java objects created by the host application. The Java runtime and a scripting language runtime can communicate and make use of each other’s features. Support for scripting languages in Java comes through the Java Scripting API. All classes and interfaces in the Java Scripting API are in the javax.script package. Using a scripting language in a Java application provides several advantages: Most scripting languages are dynamically typed, which makes it simpler to write programs. They provide a quicker way to develop and test small applications. Customization by end users is possible. A scripting language may provide domain-specific features that are not available in Java. Scripting languages have some disadvantages as well. For example, dynamic typing is good to write simpler code; however, it turns into a disadvantage when a type is interpreted incorrectly and you have to spend a lot of time debugging it. Scripting support in Java lets you take advantage of both worlds: it allows you to use the Java programming language for developing statically typed, scalable, and high-performance parts of the application and use a scripting language that fits the domain-specific needs for other parts. I will use the term script engine frequently in this book. A script engine is a software component that executes programs written in a particular scripting language. Typically, but not necessarily, a script engine is an implementation of an interpreter for a scripting language. Interpreters for several scripting languages have been implemented in Java. They expose programming interfaces so a Java program may interact with them.

Have you ever noticed that strange line of Tennyson, in which he confesses, half consciously, how very conventional progress is?- "Let the great world spin for ever down the ringing grooves of change." Even in praising change, he takes for a simile the most unchanging thing. He calls our modern change a groove. And it is a groove; perhaps there was never anything so groovy.

Yo, I wonder if I can see our crib from here,” said Jean-Cowphio, peering over the edge. “What’s a crib, dude?” asked Slimoth. “It’s what cool cats like me say instead of ‘house’,” said Jean-Cowphio. “Groovy,” said Slimoth. “I’m gonna start saying crib too.

Virginia looked scared, but I told her everything would be groovy and then I spat on her. But things weren't so groovy.

I know, that’s your thing,” Iris said. “Normally I’m all about following your bliss, but this time you can’t. I promise the harpies will not bother the old man again. You have lifted Phineas’s curse. Now go back to your shipmates, and have a groovy day!

Gag me with a peace symbol Not groovy, Mama

She’s a messenger of the gods, right? Along with Hermes and that other groovy liberated chick…Joan of Arc?” “Er, I’m not sure about that last one.

un-groovy karma

We are all downstream from each other and ourselves. Therefore choose to be relaxed and groovy.

A groovy kind of Love, we had, singer Phil Collins.

She kissed him quick but deep with her tongue; bubbling over, she pulled away from his mouth, still in an arm-on-shoulders mutual embrace, said: 'Jack, Jack I watched you on television, I mean really watched you, really saw for the very first time what you were doing. You were magnificent, you were everything I always knew you would be the first day I met you in Berkeley, but better — better than anything I could've imagined—because then I was a girl, and you were a boy, and today you were a man, and I ... Well, maybe at the advanced age of thirty-five I'm leaving adolescence and I'm ready to try loving you the way a woman should love a man.' 'That's ... uh ... groovy,' he said, and now she thrilled even at the way he was preoccupied, the old Berkeley distant-focus preoccupation, thinking through her, above her, warm exciting man-thoughts enveloping her in him were the moments she had always loved him most. 'Groovy, and I dig what you're saying — I mean about us. But the show . . . look, Sara, there are things I've got to tell you. I mean, don't think I'm back in the silly old Baby Bolshevik bag. I suppose it looked that way to a lot of people, and there were moments when I ... but I don't do things without a reason, and there are things going on that—' 'I know, Jack,' she said. 'You don't even have to tell me. It stands out all over you. You're involved in something big, something important, the kind of thing you were always meant to do. Something real like you used to — ' 'It's not what you think, not what anyone thinks,' he muttered, brows furrowed at some hidden contrapuntal train of thought. 'I don't even know the whole story myself. But I feel something, can smell it ... something so big, so ... I'm afraid to even think about it until I —

Female singers: THE GROOVY PEOPLE ARE HERE

But still—well, we mustn’t get too groovy.

He held out the cards, and I wanted one. I knew that if I took one, I’d never leave. I’d stay here, happy forever, playing games forever, and soon I’d forget my mom, and my quest, and maybe even my own name. I’d be playing virtual rifleman with groovy Disco Darrin

Night’s visions of tranquility slowly rolled above me by the groovy silken silence,that prevailed wisdom and by my casement,the starry beams rave,and thoughts start to sketch Nyx’s beauty, as I admired.

As they went inside a shop they noticed they had attracted a following. ‘They had recognised George as we walked past them in the street, then turned to follow us,’ said Pattie. ‘One minute there were five, then 10, 20, 30 and 40 people behind us. I could hear them saying, “The Beatles are here, the Beatles are in town!”’299 For Harrison the area was far from the hippie utopia he had anticipated. ‘I went there expecting it to be a brilliant place, with groovy gypsy people making works of art and paintings and carvings in little workshops. But it was full of horrible spotty drop-out kids on drugs, and it turned me right off the whole scene. I could only describe it as being like the Bowery: a lot of bums and drop-outs; many of them very young kids who’d dropped acid and come from all over America to this mecca of LSD.

Don't mind her," Mel explained. "She's just worried about Finn." Petey tossed her wild hair. "Who says I'm worried?" Mel pressed a palm to her forehead. "Anyone want to adopt a couple of teenagers?" "They're all yours, Sweet Melissa," a man said." "Groovy," said Mel.

Epic" Can you feel it, see it, hear it today? If you can't, then it doesn't matter anyway You will never understand it cuz it happens too fast And it feels so good, it's like walking on glass It's so cool, it's so hip, it's alright It's so groovy, it's outta sight You can touch it, smell it, taste it so sweet But it makes no difference cuz it knocks you off your feet You want it all but you can't have it It's cryin', bleedin', lying on the floor So you lay down on it and you do it some more You've got to share it, so you dare it Then you bare it and you tear it You want it all but you can't have it It's in your face but you can't grab it It's alive, afraid, a lie, a sin It's magic, it's tragic, it's a loss, it's a win It's dark, it's moist, it's a bitter pain It's sad it happened and it's a shame You want it all but you can't have it It's in your face but you can't grab it What is it? It's it What is it?... The Real Thing (1989)

Witches have always been women who dared to be: groovy, courageous, aggressive, intelligent, nonconformist, explorative, curious, independent, sexually liberated, revolutionary.” —W.I.T.C.H.

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Ayn Rand could not have anticipated this kind of change, and imagine what a disaster it would have been if she had tried to keep up with the latest slang. Surely, Atlas Shrugged would be even more dated if its characters used phrases like “groovy” and “far out.” Or imagine Francisco’s sign-off updated to: “Dude, you, like, totally asked for it!” Better yet, let’s not imagine that.