Gumby Quotes

Just so you know, Alice’s nurse’s uniform is a pair of green scrubs. She looks like Gumby.

I have a Gumbie Cat in mind, her name is Jennyanydots;Her coat is one of the tabby kind,with tiger stripes and lepard spots.

I had read it some time ago but was so completely immersed that I retained nothing. This has been an intermittent, lifelong enigma. Through early adolescence I sat and read for hours in a small grove of weed trees near the railroad track in Germantown. Like Gumby I would enter a book wholeheartedly and sometimes venture so deeply it was as if I were living within it. I finished many books in such a manner there, closing the covers ecstatically yet having no memory of the content by the time I returned home. This disturbed me but I kept this strange affliction to myself. I look at the covers of such books and their contents remain a mystery that I cannot bring myself to solve. Certain books I loved and lived within yet cannot remember.

Semper Gumby, he thinks. Always flexible.

At a stoplight, I reposition the arms on the bendable Gumby doll I glued to my dashboard. I make it so that his hands are on his hips. Worried Gumby. I like to change Gumby to reflect my mood.

The golem is for Franz Kafka big headache.." The ache, he confided, grew in Kafka's head, spreading throughout his bones, his joints swelling until there was no longer room in the writer's skin for both himself and the golem; then his skin split at the seams, and the creature burst forth like the Incredible Hulk, thereby expelling Kafka from his own body. What do you have in common with Jews?" Svatopluk was whispering in my ear. "This, Kafka us asked at a crucial point in his life, and replies, 'I have nothing in common with myself, and should sit quietly in corner content that I can breathe.'" Highly suggestible, I saw the monster born from Kafka's brain not as a magical or supernatural creation but a behaimeh member of the community that trafficked in the impossible. I saw the creature lumbering gumby-like behind his plodding master just as I had followed Svat, or poor dead Billy or Aunt Keni Shendeldecker, the only woman I'd ever loved; I saw the citizens of the rabbi's courtyard gossiping, making lame jokes about the golem's marriageability and his alleged prowess in bed.

I came across Nell like you would a Robert Mapplethorpe at a street art fair, gobsmacked that something so valuable would be lumped in with a bunch of other crap like that. She’d been slumped against the bathroom wall in Butterfields, a dorm we later took to calling Butterfingers, for the lacrosse team residents who manhandled girls made Gumby-legged by Popov vodka. Even with her mouth hanging open, her tongue dry and pebbled white from all the medically sanctioned stimulants, there was no question that she had a movie star face. “Hey,” I said, my

I sat at my table, had my brown toast with olive oil, and opened Camus’s The First Man. I had read it some time ago but was so completely immersed that I retained nothing. This has been an intermittent, lifelong enigma. Through early adolescence I sat and read for hours in a small grove of weed trees near the railroad track in Germantown. Like Gumby I would enter a book wholeheartedly and sometimes venture so deeply it was as if I were living within it. I finished many books in such a manner there, closing the covers ecstatically yet having no memory of the content by the time I returned home. This disturbed me but I kept this strange affliction to myself. I look at the covers of such books and their contents remain a mystery that I cannot bring myself to solve. Certain books I loved and lived within yet cannot remember.

What’s with men thinking every woman turns into elastic girl when they hit the mattress, floor, kitchen table, or any surface when their panties are removed, or worse, nudged aside? She didn’t have much experience, but she and Becca decided men had a penchant for twisting a girl into a pretzel and expecting her to enjoy her legs wrapped around her head. Oh baby, do it to me. Yeah, right. Then, to add insult to injury, literally, a man felt as if he had to bend a girl around like a Gumby doll and wouldn’t leave her alone until he’d come and she’d faked three orgasms, giving him the ego stroke necessary to break his arm while he patted himself on the back for being the world’s greatest lover.

Gumby, Gumby, Gumby…

Gumby hadn't ever been mad. Worried. Upset. Unsure, yes. Mad, no. And by the time she'd finished her rambling explanation of why she'd been late, he was smiling.

I'm nobody special", she said. "And that right there is part of the reason why I'm so fascinated," Gumby told her. "You have no idea how special you are. Most women would've rescheduled the appointment with Mr. Cotter, buy you didn't. And don't get me started on your compassion when it comes to dogs like Hannah.

Semper Gumbi.” “Semper Gumbi?” “Always Flexible. Semper is Latin for always and Gumbi is a character from—ah, never mind.

Only by stretching do you grow. Semper Gumby! "Always Flexible

I’m like Gumby in a dehydrator.

Why was Sidney sleeping on the floor?” Rocco asked. “I called her. Hannah was hurt, and she came over and helped. We had some drinks, cleaned up the crime scene, raided Gumby’s drawers, and now we’re best friends.” “She’s trashed,” Rocco said, turning to smirk at Gumby. “Crime scene?” he questioned.

I hope you don’t ever have the CSI people come over and inspect the place.” The comment was so out of left field, Gumby could only think to ask, “Why?” “Because if they use that luminal stuff, this place is gonna light up like a Christmas tree.

Sempre Gumby - meaning always stay flexible.

It doesn’t matter how well we do, how loving we are, or how much we give, do, or have. None of it will ever be enough for a toxic person. Instead we become like Gumby. We bend and flex and bend and flex, all to no avail. Our toxic family members are totally unable to act with reason. They are so needy that they cannot be filled no matter how much we give out. We are like hamsters on a wheel. We work hard and run fast but fail to get anywhere with our destructive family. This is how life will forever be with them, because our toxic family members will not change. They love the power of making us feel as if we are not enough. They find things wrong with us where there is nothing wrong with who we are, what we do, or how we treat them.

Jasusi anapaswa kuwa mtu nabihi kama alivyo John Murphy, jasusi ajwadi ulimwenguni. Nabihi ni mtu aliye tayari wakati wowote.