Gumdrop Quotes

Quit calling me Grey. It makes me sound like I’m a boy. Like Dorian Gray.” “Dorian who?” I sighed. “Just think up something else. Plain old Nora works too, you know.” “Sure thing, Gumdrop.” I grimaced. “I take that back. Let’s stick with Grey.

Sure thing, Gumdrop.

Animals shouldn't eat gumdrops! They shouldn't drink tea or chocolate milk, either.

Colonel Matterson reading from wrinkled scripture of that long yellow hand: The flag is America. America is the plum. The peach. The watermelon. America is the gumdrop. The pumpkin seed. America is television. Now, the cross is Mexico. Mexico is the walnut. The hazelnut. The acorn. Mexico is the rainbow. The rainbow is wooden. Mexico is wooden. Now, the green sheep is Canada Canada is the fir tree. The wheat field. The calendar. The night is the Pacific Ocean.

That witch talks a big game, but she couldn’t be a bigger candy-ass if she dropped her pink little undies and sat on a pile of gumdrops.

Everybody goes through pain man…life is never going to be completely positive. It's never going to rain gummy bears, gumdrops, or skittles. Keep your mouth open anyway, and embrace those moments in the rain...at one point you just have to click reset.

I can't drop it. It's how I'm drawn.

Gingerbread houses with gumdrops and peppermint and marshmallow snow. My stomach rumbles. Plates of cookies, cake, and fudge. Christmastime is here.

I'm a gooey, gushy gumdrop bullshitty drop bombs on Russia! ride a horse ...

You didn't date someone to change him. You dated him because you wanted him for the way he was. Flaws and fears and all.

This is the moment I have dreaded, the very reason why we kept running, even when it seemed hopeless. We all seemed to believe if we kept running, we would never die. But what exactly had we been hoping to find in the end? A magical place where the infection hadn't spread? A castle surrounded by gumdrops and cotton candy?

Documentaries were hastily thrown together, with images of the virus - at least they'd isolated it, it looked the usual melting gumdrop with spines - and commentary on its methods.

The truth is my soul craves gumdrops of sweetness and praise.

A small gingerbread house sat in between two large trees. White frosting covered its pointed roof, gumdrops were clumped around like shrubbery, and candy canes lined the path to the front door like a picket fence. “Look, Conner!” Alex said, catching her breath. “It’s a gingerbread house, a real gingerbread house! Look how cute it is!” “Whoa,” Conner said. “I feel like I may get diabetes from just looking at that place.

During hugs, Miss Esther said, “Gumdrop, once I’m gone, keep leadin’ my babies out here.” I agreed, queasily. She understands the parking deck’s gonna replace her house, right? “Acts 3:21,” she said. “We ain’t finished ‘til that’s his will.

Hudson shrugged. “Sure. I’m okay with it. I’m not dating her. I’d have to be a world-class jerk to say you can’t just because I went on a date with her.

I was beginning to care for them. And as that cancerous emotion swelled within my heart so did my poor heart’s fear. Swollen heart. This is an insidious malady chiefly common in that mythical organ that pumps life through the veins of the ego: care, coronary care, complicated by galloping fear. The go-away-closer disease. Starving for contact and calling it poison when it is offered. We learn young to be leery of contact: Never open up, we learn . . . you want somebody running their dirty old fingers over your soul’s privates? Never accept candy from strangers. Or from friends. Sneak off a sack of gumdrops when nobody’s looking if you can, but don’t accept, never accept . . . You want somebody taking advantage? And above all, never care, never never never care. Because it is caring that lulls you into letting down your guard and leaving up your shades . . . you want some fink knowing what you are really like down inside?

While I'm waiting, I reach into the cupboard for dried pineapple. I added them to the grocery order because I find them reassuring, but they have to be the right kind. Ma started buying the fancy natural low-sulfur version from Trader Joe's in the past few years. Those are fibrous and taste good for you. These are the ones from my childhood, which just taste good. They are as yellow as lemons, crusted all around with sugar. The inside is as thick and wet as a gumdrop.

Kid, time’s up,” Hunter said to the boy on Santa’s lap. “I’m not finished!” the boy cried. Hunter bent over, until their faces were level. The kid reminded him of Cupid,whose chubby face hid a diabolical brain intent on replacing Santa as the most beloved holiday figure. Hunter had lost more than one of his platoon members after they were lured into Cupid’s boiling pots of chocolate. He’d learned not to trust kids. “If you don’t want me to slip you a poison gumdrop in your sleep, get off Santa’s lap,” Hunter whispered. The boy burst into tears. “Next!” Hunter barked.

When Hansel and Gretel stood in the forest and saw the house in the clearing before them , the little hairs at the nape of their necks must have shivered. Their knees must have felt so weak that blinding hunger alone could have propelled them forward. No one was there warn or hold them; their parents, chastened and grieving, were far away. So they ran as fast they could to the house where a woman older than death lived, and they ignore the shivering nape hair and the softness in their knees. A grown man can also be energized by hunger, and any weakness in his knees or irregularity in his heartbeat will disappear if he thinks his hunger is about to be assuaged. Especially if the object of his craving is not gingerbread or chewy gumdrops, but gold.

In the section with edible flowers I stopped short, a bright yellow-and-purple pansy in my hands, hearing my mother's voice from long ago. Pansies are the showgirls of the flower world, but they taste a little grassy, she'd confided to me once as we pulled the weeds in her herb and flower garden. I put a dozen pansies in my cart and moved on to carnations. Carnations are the candy of the flower world, but only the petals. The white base is bitter, she'd instructed, handing me one to try. In my young mind carnations had been in the same category as jelly beans and gumdrops. Treats to enjoy. "Impatiens." I browsed the aisles of Swansons, reading signs aloud. "Marigolds." Marigolds taste a little like citrus, and you can substitute them for saffron. My mother's face swam before my eyes, imparting her kitchen wisdom to little Lolly. It's a poor woman's saffron. Also insects hate them; they're a natural bug deterrent. I placed a dozen yellow-and-orange marigolds into my cart along with a couple different varieties of lavender and some particularly gorgeous begonias I couldn't resist. I had a sudden flash of memory: my mother's hand in her floral gardening glove plucking a tuberous begonia blossom and popping it in her mouth before offering me one. I was four or five years old. It tasted crunchy and sour, a little like a lemon Sour Patch Kid. I liked the flavor and sneaked a begonia flower every time I was in the garden for the rest of the summer.

bowl. It was disgusting to think that this was what a gumdrop might look like in your stomach, and it was insulting to be told not to take too much of something you didn’t really want in the first place.

Twenty-eight courses?" Dylan mused. "Get comfortable," Grace said with anticipation. They came on little spoons, tiny plates, in small glasses, atop mini-pedestals even speared and hung, suspended on custom-made wire serving devices like little edible works of art, which was entirely the point: mint-scented lamb lollypops, osetra and oysters on frothed tapioca, beet gazpacho and savory mustard shooters, foie gras porridge with a sweet ginger spritz in an atomizer, ankimo sashimi on house-made pop-rocks, plums in powdered yogurt, goat cheese marshmallows, venison maple syrup mastic, warm black truffle gumdrops with chilled sauternes centers. Foamed and freeze-dried, often accompanied by little spray bottles of fragrance and tiny scent-filled pillows, the food crackled and smoked and hissed and sizzled, appealing to all the senses. Thin slices of blast-frozen Kobe carpaccio were hung on little wire stands to thaw between courses at the table. All sorts of textures and presentations were set forth. Many were entirely novel and unexpected renderings of traditional dishes. Intrigued and delighted by the sensory spectacle, Dylan and Grace enjoyed the experience immensely, oohing and aahing, and mostly laughing. For as strange as each course might be, as curious as the decorative objects that presented them, each one was an adventure of sorts, and without exception, each one was delicious, some to the point of profound. And each one came with an expertly matched extraordinary wine, in the precisely correct Riedel glass.

The first door she opened was carved with a picture of a pastry goblin tossing sweets. The room on the other side was even more delightful, decorated with apothecary jars full of colourful candies. The pillows on the bed all looked like sweets as well- wrapped taffy, gumdrops, and fluffy marshmallows. It felt tempting to lie down, just for a minute. She could almost hear the bed say If you sleep here, your dreams will be sweet, too.

My Gumdrop Buttons!

The hippie pirates loved wearing colours. But the most colourful thing about them was not their clothes, their gumdrops, or their pockets of treasures. The most colourful thing about the hippie pirates was their ship!

I’m planning a margarita chin-dick ring toss margarita party. Everyone welcome! Except Castro. Stay tuned on my IG for details: @brynne_weaver Now someone please help me find my next troll for Gumdrop the limp-dick unicorn. They seem to have gone into hiding and only the best troll will do… All my love, Bxxx

Had the United States taken the lead in such a world war against poverty, disease and ignorance it would itself have found some means of transition from the “military-industrial complex” escapism into which it has fallen. But aren’t we already doing enough with the four to five billion dollars annually expended in foreign aid? Directly and indirectly, by far the greater part of such sums go into military hardware that is of no value to the poor and is often used as a means of repressing and reducing any chance of peaceful change. In machine­ poor lands much of the rest goes into the pockets of military sycophants, profiteering merchants, landlords, politicians and the quick among the have-gots. It goes into cars and gasoline and freezers for the few. Too much of it tends to intensify class hatreds, the chasm between rich and poor, and dislike of the Yankees who bring gumdrops but not the means of work.

Anyone can see that he’s bad,” said Marcus, speaking calmly, “but we’ve splinted it, we’ve wrapped it, and I can drug him so hard he’ll think he’s flying home on a magical gumdrop rainbow. You could get high on his farts.” “Patterson

Could you please leave before I am forced to take action?” He presented his most prim and proper appearance. “Take action? That sounds ominously delicious.” Her expression somehow managed to brighten a few more degrees. She flopped onto her back, arms akimbo, lips curved in a wide smile. “Take me, gumdrop. I’m yours.” “Gumdrop?

He shot me an accusing look. "Chase took him to hurt you, which means he knows you care about the adorable little gumdrop.

Releasing videos on YouTube is kind of like throwing messages in bottles out into a churning sea made up entirely of messages in bottles. The chance of your message getting noticed and someone being sent out to rescue you is punishingly slim but every once in a blue moon someone who owns a big boat made of money finds your message and agrees to let you ride on his big boat made of money if you keep making messages for him. Then the two of you go on adventures with a smart mouth talking dog and travel to the land of the Gumdrop King and I sort of forgot where I was going with this...

Ears torn, dozens of pieces of the body’s and limbs’ yellow-green fur ripped away … or chewed away—it was hard to tell—this was a rabbit that would never be cuddled by any child. It shouldn’t have been seen by a child, either.

The rear doors of the Marble Hall open onto the sprawling Fountain Terrace, decorated with statues and topiary. A promenade curves southward from it, lined with yew trees that resemble giant gumdrops, and banks of daffodils and bluebells. Multiple gated gardens snake outward from the grassy lane. "This is the first of the gardens that we allow visitors to tour," Max says, leading me through a gate with a plaque above it reading THE FRENCH GARDEN. "We just planted new pink roses for the summer season." "They're beautiful." I can feel Max watching me intently as I wander the perimeter, taking in the blooming flowers and lush orange trees.

On her ninth birthday, she'd woken up to find every tree in her mother's garden had branches full of lollipops tied to them with polka-dot strings. There were also gumdrops sitting in the centre of the flowers and overlarge pieces of rock candy laid among the blades of grass to make it seem as if the garden stones had turned to candy in the night.

The Madison’s eastward peaks—Sphinx, Helmet, and others—are fine to behold, but the valley’s beating heart is sunlight. Late on a summer afternoon, it floods across the Gravelly Range. Clear, stark, and yellow, the light singles things out from the landscape, showing each in turn. See this lone juniper on a slope of August fescue. Pruned five feet up by browsing cattle, it is a green-black gumdrop on a pin. See, says that remarkable light, how a tree contains uncommon darkness. Look at these antelope crossing the plain, hides afire. One hundred white-flanked pronghorn, small on the expanse, stick-legged. See them run, eddying together, beading into a long thin line, disappearing into cottonwood galleries along a creek.

The Victorian grey and black stone building had been filled with a combination of exquisite stonework and gumdrop. This exterior finish had an ominous feel to it, with its construction dating back to the early 1900s.

The rooftops of a great city present a panorama unlike anything else in the world. A range of giant gumdrop karst formations may impress, a deep canyon awe, a jungle canopy stun into silence, but cities alone are the product of human hands and human tools, human blood and human will. They come into being with worship, or not at all.

That witch talks a big game, but she couldn’t be a bigger candy-ass if she dropped her pink little undies and sat on a pile of gumdrops. Now what about the rest of the witches—what about the Order?

The last of the tables tumbled away, and the Lunch Lady rose slowly, stumbling a little, trying to straighten the scrambled yellow mess of her hair. “Mr. Bruce, you are my hero. I must look like a Jackson Pollock painting—all tumbled and tangled and squiggly.” “Miss Brie, my darling,” said Mr. Bruce, “if I made a statue of cinnamon sticks, with eyes of blueberries and cheeks of apple cobbler and golden gumdrops in its hair, and if I loved that statue so much that it turned into a real live person, it would look just like you.

This is one of those life experiences that should help bury your childhood, April,” Brenda said. “The days of candy canes, gumdrops, and bubbles are gone. You’re going to grow up very quickly now. When you realize how alone you really are in this world, you grow up or you perish.

What teens have to work with, then, are two wildly divergent messages. They live in a candyland of sex…every magazine stand is a gumdrop castle of breasts, every reality show is a bootylicious Tootsie Roll tree. And these are hormonal teenagers: This culture speaks to them. But at school, the line given to the majority of them about sex is just say no. They are taught that sex is wrong until you have a wedding (they have seen those in the magazines and on the reality shows too, huge affairs that require boatloads of Casablanca lilies and mountains of crystal), and then suddenly it becomes natural and nice. If you process this information through the average adolescent mental computer, you end up with a printout that reads something like this: Girls have to be hot. Girls who aren’t hot probably need breast implants. Once a girl is hot, she should be as close to naked as possible all the time. Guys should like it. Don’t have sex.

Your love is the one you look upon.’ Oh, Ren,” she whispers, throwing her arm around me and kissing my neck. “This is insanely sweet. And thank goodness you weren’t ‘looking upon’ the wonton soup when you read it.” I laugh as I kiss her back. “I’m so glad it was you instead.” “You didn’t really love me at first sight,” she says skeptically. “That doesn’t exist.” “I don’t know, buttercup. You walked through the door on my first day, and my heart kicked in my chest. Knocked the wind right out of me.” “Hm. Well, for my part, I realized I liked you when I bumped into that fabulous naked chest.” “Francesca.” I growl softly against her neck and nip it. “Okay. It was when you were doing shirtless push-ups.” Pressing her into the sofa and sliding down the blanket, I settle between her legs. “Gumdrop, you’re taunting me.” “Doodlebug.” Frankie slides her arms down my back. “I’m going to be real honest and confess the first thing I liked about you was your butt, but only because you’d passed me while my head was down, walking into the meeting room, so I only caught the back half of you.” She gives the backside in question an affectionate squeeze. “But then I walked in, and saw this copper hair, those wintry eyes.” She sighs. “And I thought, ‘Well, damn. He’s off-limits, Frankie. So fuhgeddaboudit.

But, then it’s possible...I might find my cannibals, after all. Eating the eyes of their prey like gumdrops. There I’ll be, making tape recordings and taking photographs, laughing and snapping wishbones with the natives.