Little Lulu Quotes

...being Lulu, it made me realize that all my life I've been living in a small, square room, with no windows and no doors. And I was fine. I was happy, even. I thought. Then someone came along and showed me there was a door in the room. One that I'd never even seen before. Then he opened it for me. Held my hand as I walked through it. And for one perfect day, I was on the other side. I was somewhere else. Someone else. And then he was gone, and I was thrown back into my little room. And now, no matter what I do, I can't seem to find that door.

Straight guys only feel three ways about girls . . . First, either they love you, and they show it by writing a song about you, like Gabriel, and asking you out, and everything is nice and fun like it should be. Second, they love you, but they’re scared of their passion for you because it’s so strong, like your boy Christopher, so they stuff it way, way down and ignore you, or do stupid things like make fun of you because they don’t know how to express it any other way, because they’re immature little babies and are too shy to, say, write a song about you. Or third, there’s something wrong with them, and they start out nice and loving and then turn around and do stupid things like sleep with other girls behind your back, like Justin Bay. But we’ll never figure out what went wrong with them, and neither will they, so it’s not worth thinking about. Okay? That’s it. The end.” Lulu Collins

Perhaps the greatest gift ever bestowed upon us by evolution is the ability to believe we are more powerful than we are . . . You walk around with the fundamental belief that the world is uncaring, that no matter how hard you work there is no promise of success, that you are competing against billions, that you are vulnerable to the elements, and that everything you ever love will eventually be destroyed. A little lie can take the edge off, can help you keep charging forward into the gauntlet of life, where you sometimes, accidentally, prevail.

Ha ha ha ha ha ho ho ho!"–Little Lulu

Richie had about a dozen different Voices. His ambition, he had told Eddie one rainy afternoon when they were in the little raftered room over the Kaspbrak garage reading Little Lulu comic books, was to become the world’s greatest ventriloquist.

this architect who everyone misunderstands. I completely forget to ask what she and Charlene are going to laugh about. One evening Mama takes Baylor and Little Shep and Lulu and me to Fred’s Hamburger Drive-In where we eat at least

Sophie, displaced to the chair next to Lulu, dug her in the side. "Keep him," she whispered. "Nail his foot to the floor if you have to. He's gold.

This is a great wedding. I like weddings." "It is a good one, isn't it?" she agreed. "But it was always going to be--Emma so efficient." "Isn't she," he said. "I like weddings." Lulu said nothing. "Weddings," he said after a moment. "Funny things, but I like them." Lulu stopped dancing and drew back to look up into his eyes. "If you say that one more time," she said levelly, "I won't take you to the Cheddar cheese shop." "Sorry," he said quickly "I like funerals, too, if that's any help? We do marvelous ones in Ireland, we're famous for them.

...that whole day, being with Willem, being Lulu, it made me realize that all my life I've been living in a small, square room, with no windows and no doors. And I was fine. I was happy, even. I thought. Then someone came along and showed me there was a door in the room. One that I'd never even seen before. Then he opened it for me. Held my hand as I walked through it. And for one perfect day, I was on the other side. I was somewhere else. Someone else. And then he was gone, and I was thrown back into my little room. And now, no matter what I do, I can't seem to find that door.

It was filled with the classic love stories- Pride and Prejudice, Emma, Romeo and Juliet, Little Women, Wuthering Heights- because one day I wanted a love worthy of the greats.

I will give you anything you ask for, Little Nymph. You could ask for the stars and the moon and I would rip the sky apart, cast the world in darkness, just to hand you them on a string.

Charlie snorted. “Ms. Muffman, may I introduce to you Lulu Deerdancer and Buster Cleveland. According to their IDs, both are in their twenties. Lulu here likes to fellate a sucker on his finger while laughing like a hyena. Buster is a self-proclaimed leather cub who sneezed his mustache on my face.” Ms. Muffman threw her head back and laughed, a low throaty thing that made me want to know all her secrets immediately. “Oh, this is delightful. I am delighted by the two of you. But this is no place for little boys. Shoo, little boys. Come back when you have hair on your balls.” “Uh,” Paul said. “I have several, so….

Slowly I reached out. I wasn’t scared. But what if I scared it? Be still, hand! I ordered my right hand. Miss Cleo had tiny black button eyes, and it stared right at me. As I touched the snake, it still didn’t move, and neither did my hand! It felt a little like cool, smooth leather on my fingertips. Look at me! Getting all cozy with snakes and stuff—Mom and Dad would never believe this! Once we’d learned more about snakes than we ever imagined we wanted to, Lulu announced that she was going to let this one go home. “Everybody good with that?

Whatever the case, it works for him. He loses a wife, and wins another quickly. He loses a fish collection, and rebuilds a bigger one. He is promoted to higher and higher offices. The awards and medals start clattering in, for teaching, for ichthyology, for contributions to higher ed. An odd alchemy of delusion right before your eyes. Little lies transmuting into bronze, silver, gold. Forget millennia of warnings to stay humble; maybe this is just how it works in a godless system. Maybe David Starr Jordan is proof that a steady dose of hubris is the best way of overcoming doomed odds.

But she had not been tempted to look him up back then. She’d become accustomed to the sense of herself as separate from all others, and there was something comforting about that. It was best to keep the past just out of reach, hovering a little more than arm’s length away. While she knew it was there, could sense it, she carefully kept those memories out of her grasp, and she sometimes seemed to forget the past entirely. But that was an illusion. Her memories of Jack, of Lulu—of life before—were not actually gone and forgotten; they lived on inside her, shadows of a bleached-out stain.

Nice for Freddie," she said. "Whoever he is. I'm Sophie, Lulu's sister." "Nice for you," he said. "Are you the sister who's getting married?" "No, I'm the one who is still available." She perched herself on the counter and swung her legs. "So, it's your lucky day, isn't it?" "Do you know," he said slowly, "I'm beginning to think it is." It was the sort of thing that men were always saying to Sophie, but not, thought Lulu crossly, the sort that generally made her gape and goggle at Lulu like a demented hen who had just won the lottery ticket, It was a couple of moments before she realized that Liam was looking, not at Sophie, but at her.

Before she could react to this unexpected and disturbing development, there came a wordless howl of joy from the door and the sight of unflappable Charlie hurling herself across the room to bury her face in her brother's jacket. Liam returned her embrace with enthusiasm, only detaching himself to wink conspiratorially at Lulu..

As Tom walked away, every step more awful, Lucy pursued him, arms still outstretched. ‘Dadda, wait for Lulu,’ she begged, wounded and confused. When she tripped and fell face down on the gravel, letting out a scream, Tom could not go on, and spun around, breaking free of the policeman’s grip. ‘Lulu!’ He scooped her up and kissed her scratched chin. ‘Lucy, Lucy, Lucy, Lucy,’ he murmured, his lips brushing her cheek. ‘You’re all right, little one. You’ll be all right.’ Vernon Knuckey looked at the ground and cleared his throat. Tom said, ‘Sweetheart, I have to go away now. I hope—’ He stopped. He looked into her eyes and he stroked her hair, finally kissing her. ‘Goodbye, littlie.

I wish you could have seen the kitchen when I was done: It looked like a hurricane had blown right in the door! But I cleaned it all up, and when Mother came home the whole house smelled warm and spicy, Bing Crosby was singing "White Christmas" on the radio, I was wearing a clean apron, and she called me her "little homemaker." What would you think about tomato mincemeat cookies? I bet no one else will think of that!

Bad luck," he commiserated. "Afraid I can't do that, either, Freddie, Dad's sending me to recon. That's food reconnaissance," he added to Lulu and Sophie. "There's a chef in a restaurant in Stoke Newington he wants me to check out before anyone else gets to him." He looked at Lulu. "Come with me," he said. From the corner of her eye, Lulu saw Sophie's hand snake to grab Charlie's wrist-- she avoided looking at Sophie's expression. "Don't you want to take your sites?" she asked coldly.

You know, Fee," said Liam, "I have huge admiration for Lulu and I'm hoping that you and I can be friends, too. But.." He stopped. "Did you ask me about my mother?" he asked. "Yes," said Fee. "Oh," said Liam. "Sorry. I was five, and Freddie was three." "Poor little babies," said Fee. "Five and three, that must have been so hard on all of you. It's a huge credit to your father that you've both grown up so beautifully. Can I ask you another question, Liam?" A little nervously, Liam cleared his throat. "Ask away?" he said. "What on earth," said Fee, "has Lulu been telling you about me?

Dear Mr. Beard, On the radio last spring, President Roosevelt said that each and every one of us here on the home front has a battle to fight; We must keep our spirits up. I am doing my best, but in my opinion Liver Gems are a lost cause, because they would take the spirit right out of anyone. So when Mother says it is wrong for us to eat better than our brave men overseas, I tell her that I don't see how eating disgusting stuff helps them in the least. But, Mr. Beard, it is very hard to cook good food when you're only a beginner! When Mother decided it was her patriotic duty to work at the airplane factory, she should have warned me about the recipes. You just can't trust them! Prudence Penny's are so revolting. I want to throw them right into the garbage. Mrs. Davis from next door lent me one of her wartime recipe pamphlets, and I read about liver salmi, which sounded so romantic. But by the time I had cooked the liver for twenty minutes in hot water, cut it into little cubes, rolled them in flour, and sautéed them in fat, I'd made flour footprints all over the kitchen floor. The consommé and cream both hissed like angry cats when I added them. Then I was supposed to add stoned olives and taste for seasoning. I spit it right into the sink.

here was Dorothy, always knotted to the point of strangulation, aspiring to be what she was not, because of that parvenu prince. Mrs Hunter saw him: the groove in the lower lip, above the cleft chin, beneath the pink-shaded restaurant lights. She had ordered tournedos Lulu Watier. After the first shock of mutual disapproval, she felt that she and Hubert were enjoying each other. Alfred said, ‘Out with us, the food is plainer. We don’t feel the need to titillate our palates by dolling it up with a lot of seasoning and fancy sauces.’ He might have worsened the situation if she hadn’t kicked him under the table. They had gone over for the wedding because the old princess insisted she could not travel out to ce pays si lointain et inconnu. It was the first occasion the mountain hadn’t come to Elizabeth Hunter: she couldn’t very well believe it; nor that she would overlook the fact that her little Dorothy was being received into the Roman Catholic Church. But you did: at the nuptial mass there was your plain little girl in the dress by Lanvin tissé expres à la main à Lyon, and none of it could disguise the fact that you were prostituting your daughter to a prince, however desirably suave and hung with decorations. For one instant, out of the chanting and the incense, Elizabeth Hunter experienced a kind of spiritual gooseflesh.

They held a simple wedding at the Venice Hotel in Shenzhen. Pony’s colleagues rejoiced because when he was single, he often worked beyond 10 p.m. Now they finally could take a breather with him starting a new chapter. Little did they know, it wasn’t long before they would get bombarded again by his past-midnight emails.

Mrs. Lulu Harte, who lived nearby and drove Nellie Kehoe to church every Sunday, “had a little fox terrier dog of which she thought a great deal.” Sometime in March 1920—about a year after the Kehoes moved to Bath—the dog “came up missing.” Setting off in search of her pet, she arrived at the Kehoe farm and asked Andrew “if he had seen anything of her dog.” Kehoe allowed that he had. “It was burying a bone beside my road fence,” he explained matter-of-factly, “and I shot the damned nuisance.” Shocked as she was, Mrs. Harte didn’t raise a fuss, merely turning away in silence. But she never drove Nellie to church again.8

After Rufus's death, David's journals explode with color. Meticulously rendered sketches of wildflowers and ferns and ivies and brambles and any scraps of nature, it seemed, he could tear away from the world. The drawings are not artful; they are labored, covered in pencil smudges, ink stains, eraser marks, and little tears from overly vigorous coloring in. But in the crudeness you can see it-his obsession, his desperation, the near-muscular effort he was exerting to pin down the forms of the things unknown to him.

Little Lulu looks like a turd in a dress.

You just killed, like, a hundred fae,” I point out. “Actually, I killed a hundred bloodthirsty fae,” Judd says cheerfully as he walks by, strutting like a peacock and tossing back his sweat-slicked hair. “I practically won this battle single-handedly!” “You did not,” Captain Lu shouts back as she appears. “Aww, don’t be jealous, Lu-Lu,” he tells her as they meet up. “You helped a little. Right, Dig?

What do you do when you can’t go on, Monsieur Perdu?” he asked wearily. “Me? Nothing.” Next to nothing. I take night walks through Paris until I’m tired. I clean Lulu’s engine, the hull and the windows, and I keep the boat ready to go, right down to the last screw, even though it hasn’t gone anywhere in two decades. I read books—twenty at a time. Everywhere: on the toilet, in the kitchen, in cafés, on the metro. I do jigsaw puzzles that take up the whole floor, destroy them when I’ve finished and then start all over again. I feed stray cats. I arrange my groceries in alphabetical order. I sometimes take sleeping tablets. I take a dose of Rilke to wake up. I don’t read any books in which women like —— crop up. I gradually turn to stone. I carry on. The same every day. That’s the only way I can survive. But other than that, no, I do nothing. Perdu

When he placed a candle on the shelf across the room from him and lit its wick, he came to realize that in fact everything he saw was a flat surface, like a screen – that in fact dimension was an illusion. Everything was a flat surface and the pinpoints of light, whether from a candle on the shelf or a gaslamp above the street, were punctures in that surface – gashes made by somebody behind the screen. He realized then that beyond everything he saw there was an entire realm of blazing sunfire, and that colors were only the silhouettes of people in that realm – walking, eating, dancing, doing whatever they were doing behind the screen. “It astonished Adolphe that everyone failed to realize they were just figures on a tapestry, the shadows of something else. He was therefore amused by the conceit of women, for instance, who who admired the creamy color of their skin when in fact it was only the haze of some other woman behind the vast screen staring into a mirror. Adolphe could explain all of this to himself but he could not explain Janine: Janine wasn't the same as the others. Janine was like their mother; and Adolphe decided Lulu was from this place beyond the surface, and she had, perhaps when she was a little girl, slipped through. “Adolphe wondered why Lulu hadn't told them about this, and then realized she probably would when she thought they were old enough to understand it. He could see it wasn't something one would want to tell a child too soon.

Lulu” couldn’t help that she was born to privilege. She was just a puppy looking to spread joy, and joy she did spread! Well, to be fair, she also ate a diamond earring and tore up a hand-stitched pillow, but that’s what you expect with “Littleness.

Elizabeth would be eleven this year, Lulu was coming up for three, and little Paul was seven. He

about Linnaeus, to learn a little Darwin, a little DNA, so I could better understand the

It was hard to define the expression he found in Lulu’s photographs, an expression she must have had in life. It wasn’t sadness, but rather the sullen expression of a little girl who keeps to herself in the school playground and watches her schoolmates play. He would have been hard put to explain in what way she had been attractive, but he sensed it and he had often, in spite of himself, questioned such girls more gently than others.

me, and nobody was talking to anyone. I didn’t even know if We Stink had just broken up, or what. Which was too bad, because we’d just played the best show of our lives. After all the bands performed, they finally brought all of us back out onstage for the results. We stood there in a big line while Mr. Swivel got up in front of the families again. “Well, well, well, isn’t this exciting?” he said, and you could just feel all the kids onstage grinding their teeth down to little nubs, waiting to hear who had won. I still wanted this. I wanted it so bad. Then maybe we could start to put the whole stupid fight behind us and just keep going. “And our winner today—” I mean, I could live with not winning if I had to. I just didn’t want to have to. “—is a band that showed the musical chops to stand toe-to-toe with the one and only Lulu and the Handbags—” “JUST SAY IT!” someone yelled in the audience, and everyone laughed. Mr. Swivel kept going. “As hard as this decision was, it was also unanimous,” he said. “So, without further delay, the winning band is…” I swallowed hard. It felt like choking down a rock. No pun intended. “Extra Creddit!” A big spotlight came on and Extra Creddit was high-fiving and jumping around, while the rest of us stood around like a giant pile of leftovers. And just like that… it was all over. Truthfully, I never thought we’d get as far as we did. But once that happened, I wanted to hear Jordy Swivel say “WE STINK IS THE WINNER!” as much as I’ve ever wanted anything. Now, the girls and I were just standing there with nothing to say. And I was starting to think that We

you wait for the perfect time to fall in love, said a little inner voice that sounded suspiciously like Lulu, it’ll never happen.

If you wait for the perfect time to fall in love, said a little inner voice that sounded suspiciously like Lulu, it’ll never happen.

The 68-page first issue of Calling All Girls contained four comic stories—an 8-pager on Queen Elizabeth (the mother of the current queen); a 9-pager on famed author Osa Johnson, “the famed jungle adventuress,” as the story so quaintly dubbed her; a fictional 7-pager on Judy Wing, Air Hostess No. 1 (aviation themes were huge in the early years of comics, just as they were in all of popular culture); and a fictional 8-pager on the teenage adventures of the Yorktown Younger Set, which “lives in a town like yours. The other half of the first issue contained text stories of a wide variety, with an astonishing amount of reading material for the teen girl’s dime. There was a 4-page story devoted to Connie Martin, a Nancy Drew knockoff; a 4-pager devoted to circus girls; a 3-pager on Gloria Jean herself; a 3-pager by publisher George Hecht on “13 ways girls can help in the national defense”; a 2-pager on manners; a 3-pager by best-selling sports novelist John R. Tunis on women in sports; a 2-pager on grooming; a 4-pager on a fictional female boater; a 2-pager on films; a 2-pager on fashion, with delightful drawings; a page on fashion accessories; and a 2-pager on cooking, by the famed food writer Cecily Brownstone. This issue gave girls an awful lot of reading, some of it inspirational and showing they could be more than “just a girl,” as the boys in Tubby’s clubhouse used to call Little Lulu and her friends a decade later in their Dell Comics adventures. The most intriguing aspect of Calling All Girls is that it approached schoolgirls not as boy-crazy or male-dependent, but as interesting individuals in their own right. The ensuing issues of Calling All Girls expanded on this theme. This was definitely a mini “feminist manifesto” for teens!

They told her the attack was her fault. She was Iraqi, wasn't she, they had accused. They knew she was Muslim. Her fault, they had kept on, the dirty little terrorist, the conspiring towel head. Lulu had stood for the first time, at a loss for words. Worse than hearing the words from hateful strangers-she had heard the poisonous words from boys she'd grown up with, boys she'd kissed, boys she'd had crushes on, boys she'd tasted her first alcohol with, boys she'd wrestled with for control of the tv remote. Strangers, at least, she could have ignored. She should have felt punched in the stomach. But she hadn't. She should have screamed and yelled back at them. But she hadn't. Instead, she had stood there, dazed and stupid, while wondering if all those years she'd thought she belonged there she had been terribly, horribly mistaken. The relatives who died fighting tyranny had choked the words in her throat. Her heart had shattered that day, into thousands of selfish pieces. The one she had now, the one she had to put back together, had slivers missing in the strangest of places.

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It was late afternoon when we stopped on the banks of the Mississippi to spend the night across the river from Caruthersville, Missouri. We could see the Powell Ferry on the other side. It would take us across in the morning. I’d lived all my life only a few miles from the river, but had never seen it before. It was a wonderful and frightening thing to me. I learned in school that it stretched all the way to the south end of the United States. I watched the boats with their cargo pass by and thought about the places they would stop before they found New Orleans. I daydreamed a little about what it would be like to get on one of the boats with Lulu and sail away from the life that faced me.