Jess New Girl Quotes

[novan]: bassists are very good with their fingers [novan]: and some of us sing backup vocals, so that means we're good with our mouths too... (~ IM chat with Novan Chang, 18, bassist)

I said, in my new loud middle-aged-Jewish-woman voice.

...and Athena, it must be admitted, has never been much of a friend to her fellow women. The war-like goddess of wisdom, who wasn't even gestated by a women (she sprang fully grown from her father's head), is the original "not-like-the-other-girls" girl.

On the New Jersey turnpike, nobody signals when changing lanes, and it seems everyone drives twenty miles over the speed limit.

Who are you trying to protect? This isn’t your world, child. Give any of these kids here a chance and they’ll throw you under the bus, just to make sure this place keeps going, you know what I’m saying?

and then I won’t be able to go to college, and then I’ll have no future and basically spend the rest of my life licking avocado husks for lunch or whatever it is that boomers think young people should do to get by.

Don't fall into the habit of bringing work home, Rick. It indicates a lack of planning, and you would eventually find yourself stuck indoors every night. Teaching is like having a bank account. You can happily draw on it while it is well supplied with new funds; otherwise you're in difficulties. Every teacher should have a fund of ready information on which to draw; he should keep that fund supplied regularly by new experiences, new thoughts and discoveries, by reading and moving around among people from whom he can acquire such things." "Not much chance of social movement for me, I'm afraid." "Nonsense, Rick, you're settled in a job now, so there's no need to worry about that; but you must get out and meet more people. I'm sure you'll find lots of nice people about who are not foolishly concerned with prejudice." "That's all right, Dad; I'm quite happy to stay at home with you and Mom." "Nice to hear you say that, but we're old and getting a bit stuffy. You need the company of younger people like yourself. It's even time he had a girl, don't you think, Jess?" Mom smiled across at me. "Ah, leave him alone, Bob, there's plenty of time for that." We went on to chat about other things, but I never forgot what Dad Belmont had said, and never again did I take notebooks home for marking. I would check the work in progress by moving about the class, helping here, correcting there; and I very soon discovered that in this way errors were pin-pointed while they were still fresh in the child's mind.

When I look up and finally meet Mrs. Henderson’s eye, I see her for what she is: a coward. A greedy, selfish coward who doesn’t give a shit about her students. And I realize, again, how disappointing it is to realize that the adults who are supposed to be looking out for you are only looking out for themselves. This time, I’m not going to let her flick me away like I’m a piece of lint. This bitch is coming down with me.

The 40th anniversary edition of the classic Newbery Medal-winning title by beloved author Katherine Paterson, with brand-new bonus materials including an author's note by Katherine herself and a foreword by New York Times bestselling author Kate DiCamillo. Jess Aarons has been practicing all summer so he can be the fastest runner in the fifth grade. And he almost is, until the new girl in school, Leslie Burke, outpaces him. The two become fast friends and spend most days in the woods behind Leslie's house, where they invent an enchanted land called Terabithia. One morning, Leslie goes to Terabithia without Jess and a tragedy occurs. It will take the love of his family and the strength that Leslie has given him for Jess to be able to deal with his grief. Bridge to Terabithia was also named an ALA Notable Children’s Book and has become a touchstone of children’s literature, as have many of Katherine Paterson’s other novels, including The Great Gilly Hopkins and Jacob Have I Loved. Full Read Online Open Here >> telegra[.]ph/Free-PDF-Bridge-to-Terabithia-Free-Download-09-17

A new girl came to work in the room, and the cat was still in it. The cat hid from the new girl in Jess’ old room behind a crack in the wall and yowled for Jess to come and throw this strange girl out of the cat’s bed. This new girl clapped her hands over her ears, and then pulled powder out from her bag of make-up. She doused a piece of old food in the powder and threw it into the wall for the cat to eat. Later that night, Rachel had to pull the dead cat from a crack in the wall with a long broom handle. Rachel threw the dead cat over the wall, where the rain would come to wash the body into the sewers. With Jess crying somewhere about her lost cat—selling hot corn among the thugs and night bruisers, paying for anything stolen—Rachel figured that the powder had done exactly what it had been made to do. The powder had killed a working girl’s baby.

We had already known it was bad, but somehow, with Mom and Dad there watching, it seemed ten times worse. We became aware of new ways in which it was crappy...

WERNER IS GUILTY... The girl with desperate eyes shrieking like a lamb at the slaughterhouse. She's flunked out and here I am, taking her place.

She's selling drugs, Illegal drugs, drugs that hurt people, and all because she wants to play the role of dutiful Asian daughter.

She has forty-two first cousins and thirty aunties and uncles, many of whom live just down the road.

that I’ve found out how badass she is. Just to clarify, I wouldn’t let her take the fall even if she were a basic bitch, but the fact that she’s cool somehow makes it that little bit worse.

Get the necklace with the little Coke bottle pendant. That’s cocaine,” Grace says. “It’ll suppress your appetite. You’ll lose weight in no time. Not that you need to lose weight.

think I might actually lose it then. I know Grace is only trying to help, but I can’t shake off the feeling that there is something really messed up about Draycott, something that goes even deeper, beyond Mr. Werner selling grades to students. Something tells me that Draycott is rotten, all the way to the core, and nothing I do can ever fix it.

How can these kids be so heartless? He was their teacher. They were happily buying grades off him! But maybe I’m just being a massive hypocrite, given I killed the guy and everything

Am I really sitting here comforting him while lying to him? What kind of monster am I? And the worst part of it is that my mind keeps skittering to a single thought: Does the police suspect anything?

This is it. He’s going to say he knows it’s suspicious because Mr. Werner was shady as hell, and there are way too many people with motives to kill him, like me, for example, sitting here sweating and squirming. I’ll tell him it was painless, that he died instantly.

I stand there, panting, and look at Beth. My first friend at Draycott, the girl who took me under her wing. Sweet, studious Beth. She’s kneeling on the floor, crying, grabbing as many of the bags as she can and stuffing them back into a Prada handbag. I was right about her being the drug dealer, but this doesn’t feel at all like victory.

Oh my god, you are being so paranoid right now. So what if Danny finds out I snooped around in his uncle’s computer? What’s the big deal? I mean, I know the guy’s dead, but let’s face it, he was shady as hell.

I’m going to write a whole thing about how I refuse to partake in any history class that insists on lying to its students. It’ll be titled Teach Us the Real History, You Whitewashing Assholes!

Lia, how you feeling? You okay? Everything good? Yes?” Her smile is weighed down with concern as she gives me a once-over. “You’re too skinny. This isn’t good. You don’t got enough muscle mass.

My stomach twists painfully. That dark, sharp sensation, the one that whispers of something wrong, something rotten, resurfaces. And I can’t hide from it anymore.

Danny laughs, and now it sounds deranged. “Why? Why do you think? Because she killed my uncle! Everyone here’s out to get Uncle James. First there was Sophie, ranting about him, she had a whole freaking vendetta out against him, and I had to take care of it, and then there was Stacey, and you, and what the hell is wrong with you girls?

I even came clean about Uncle James’s ledger to Mrs. Henderson. All because I was in love with you. That was before I found out my girlfriend’s a fucking murderer!

The cops still don’t know much about Mr. Werner’s death, and after the freakishly huge mess of a case, all the school’s benefactors—Danny’s parents included—have swooped down and called in all of the favors they can call in, and the case got shut down before anyone could say, “Drugs?

And, of course, about me, the evil parasite-slut-whore-witch-bitch who corrupted Danny the golden boy and pushed him into trying to kill me.

Are you thinking of like, gang violence and I dunno, Trump-esque visions of inner-city communities?” Danny grimaces. “Uh. Sorry, I just. I really have no idea what anything outside of the OC is like.” “You’re Indonesian, dude.

Well, my family’s really close, but we also have way too much drama. We’re like a real-life Korean drama. You don’t even know. Like, one of my cousins got engaged to this white guy last year, and

I’m so sorry, Lia,” AI Betsy would say, “but there’s been a mistake with your scholarship. You see, this school is a jewelry box, and you are not a diamond.” And then she’d flick me away like a piece of lint.

Video evidence. Yes. The more the better. This is so clearly wrong. But as I scramble for my phone, the guy stops recording and starts tapping on his phone, smiling. Then he says to his friend, “Sent to DD!

She’ll be fine. Sophie used to be in our year, but she started doing drugs—not the cool designer ones, but the really gross, common ones—and she just went in a downward spiral.

Cool designer drugs?” Has Chanel started foraying into pharmacology? “You know, like Spice, or Gravel, or Molly.

Which means…this room belonged to Sophie. The girl with the desperate eyes, shrieking like a lamb at the slaughterhouse. She’s flunked out, and here I am, taking her place.

Quick, must say something mind-blowing. Something so hilarious and brilliant that he’ll immediately fall in love with me. I open my mouth. “Bwuh?

I feel the smile slipping at the reminder that there’s no longer a track team at South Melville High. If I don’t cut it here, I have no chance at a college scholarship.

People always think that Indonesia’s some third-world country where people live in shacks and bathe in the river. I guess in the rural parts of the country, it’s like that, but Jakarta is a huge city with ten million people. Ibu describes it as a place filled with skyscraper after skyscraper, luxury hotels and shiny nightclubs and trendy hipster cafes all bunched together in a never-ending metropolis. Compared to Jakarta, Draycott is nothing but a sleepy little town.

The worst part is, she wouldn’t scold me. She wouldn’t even say anything mean; she’s not that kind of mom. She’d try to hide her disappointment, and she’d hug me and tell me everything would be okay, and all the while, she’d be blaming herself for somehow failing as a mother.

Stella Cameron, New York Times bestselling author “The Girl Who Stayed defies type. Crosby’s tale is honest and sen- sitive, eerie and tragic. It’s a homecoming tale of a past ever with us and irrevocably lost forever. A haunting vision of that chasm between life and death we call ‘missing.’” – Pamela Morsi, bestselling author of Simple Jess “An intense, mesmerizing Southern drama about a young woman who returns to her coastal home to put to rest the haunting ghost of her sister’s tragic past. Told in the rich, lyrical style of Siddons and Conroy, The Girl Who Stayed is a woman’s story of discovery and acceptance, redefined by Tanya Anne Crosby’s dramatic storytelling, sharp characters, and well-defined plot. A must read for any woman who believes she can never go back home. Fabulous, rich and evocative!” – New York Times bestselling author Jill Barnett “Crosby tugs heartstrings in a spellbinding story of a woman trying to move beyond her past.” – New York Times bestselling

OK, I'm back. Although, let's just do a new chapter, because this chapter got really fucked up somehow and I'm afraid of what will happen if I continue with it.

When someone I love gets hurt, I get involved.

During the early days of Franco's tenure with Harry Alan Towers (1967-1969) there was an occasion, oft remarked upon, when one film (The Girl From Rio) finished shooting a week early, and rather than send the crew home Towers and Franco hastily wrote a new script over the weekend (99 Women), and began shooting it on the Monday. In this case the arrangement was made with the full cooperation of the producer. But did the experience suggest to Franco a possible way of working in the future? After all, 99 Women, conceived in a rush and made without deliberation, went on to become one of Franco's biggest grossing films of all time, spending weeks in the upper reaches of the Variety chart.

You pretended you had to go get your laptop because you couldn't afford to buy dinner for yourself after swiping me through?

His whole face...breaks into the kind of smile little kids get when you surprise them with a cookie.

There's sugar in my mouth, and carbs in my belly, and a cute boy at my side. This night is pure magic.

A myriad if-onlys spin in the air, glittering with a thousand different possible outcomes.... But we all made the choices we made, and every lie that slips out of our mouths brings us that much closer to this moment in time.

...and Athena, it must be admitted, has never been much of a friend to her fellow women. The war-like goddess of wisdom, who wasn't even gestated by a woman (she sprang fully grown from her father's head), is the original "not-like-the-other-girls" girl.

dragged her feet as she walked down the street towards the park. Her best friend, Jess, was ill and already she felt lost without her, even though lately she seemed to be glued to the hip of her boyfriend, Cayden. When Jess had rang to say she wasn’t able to go out that night, Katie had suggested calling to see her instead of going to meet Nathan. Nathan was her new boyfriend–but not by choice. It was Cayden who had wanted her to get friendly with him. He saw Nathan as their inroad, their ticket to more involvement with the Barker brothers. Katie didn’t really like him that much. Although she knew some of her other friends were envious because he was attractive in a bad-boy way, his

Danny’s right about DD; that very same night, Aaron Presley and his buddies take his Bugatti Chevron or Chevy or whatever to party in downtown SF and then proceed to drunk-crash his car into the rose garden when they get back. Everyone’s fine, except for poor Kaylyn Crawford—one of her new silicone boobs exploded, and DD can’t have enough of that nasty piece of info. All those posts about me are quickly drowned out by GIFs of balloons popping.

Paul: That depresses you? Danny: Why wouldn’t it? I mean, if this kid is trying, but failing completely…. I mean, art is hard and he doesn’t have it, and doesn’t even seem to be trying. Paul: I try. Danny: I know, but there are no guarantees that you nor Zin will become great. I mean, you both are technically solid, at times, but you both need to wean off of my poetry. You need to differentiate into Paul and Zin. I mean, but even that is no guarantee. I mean. Look at all the people on Omniversica’s e-list. I mean, I’ve talked about it, and how real life intrudes and kills off artistic impulse. You told me Ben might not have continued writing had he not met you. Who knows what Jess would have done without me? Who knows if you’ll be writing in a decade? I mean, suppose you can only be good and competent. Would that satisfy? I mean, on the e-list there are people who can be great in one poem and then for another 200 poems write shit. There’s someone who wrote a great book length poem and now writes nothing. Another guy has great talent, took classes to get degrees in religion and now does little in art, because he runs an online marketing thing. Then there are those with talent who just stop and study shit. I told you about my pal who gave up art to become a sex researcher. Then there’s that girl who spent over seventy thousand bucks at an online university where a bad writer ‘teaches’ how to be a bad writer. I told you of that video Jess showed of a bad writer girl teaching others to be generic hacks. Others fuck up their lives via pregnancy. Others just grow up and forget art. You saw the work of the one guy who spent three years on a terrible book. Then he told me he was gonna craft Youtube videos. Now, he says he’s into trading cryptocurrency. And when we met he was a poet. Now he’s into Bitcoin. It’s so depressing. I think of the old folks from the Uptown Poetry Group- some are dead, others probably homeless or in mental institutions, and I told you about that guy who harassed all the women at the UPG? And he’s probably still thriving in business. And then my ex, Stacy Stafford, who’s now a New Age Christian scam artist. Jess rails about people who come to us only for help and do nothing to help us. I mean, think of a great poet like James Emanuel, and how I tried to help him, and now his stuff is almost forgotten, and the rights to his work are held by a little shit press that doesn’t even put out his work! And what about my old friend George Dickerson, the actor and poet? I did a few interviews about his excellent screenplay on his time as a diplomat in Lebanon and no one cares- even his son, a famed filmmaker in Finland- even that son refuses to do his father’s script. I mean, he has the name, the means, and the clout to get it made, and STILL George’s art is left to wither. And these people I contact for interviews? Most of them don’t even read a simple email! They ask if a Danny Wagner Video Interview is just audio or not? I mean, READ! People are so lazy, these days, it’s unreal. One cannot even read a lousy email! I mean- Paul: Yeah, it’s a shame. Danny: I’m not a magician. I can only guarantee that Jess and I will be great writers because only we are NOW and currently great. Others? Who knows? Some forget literature to do pop genres like sci fi or romance- maybe switch things up by writing about goblins. Others just quit altogether. I can’t make you nor Ben great. YOU have to do that, and I recall reading that excerpt you sent Jess of his book, where he wants money and to be a great artist, too, but by doing so parttime. That is not a good long term sign, but it is what it is. I can’t change people. I can’t change you. I can’t change Ben. I can’t change this Landon kid. I can’t even change Jess! I’m mortal.