Loud Sue Quotes

I tell you, there are times when words are so glad to be set free they laugh out loud and prance across their tablets and inside their scrolls.

I tell you, there are times when words are so glad to be set free they laugh out loud and prance across their tablets and inside their scrolls. So it was with the words I wrote. They reveled till dawn. xvii.

Watching a hell horse try to tiptoe so his gigantic hooves didn’t ring loudly on the tiled floor and wake our queen made me choke back a laugh.

there are times when words are so glad to be set free they laugh out loud and prance across their tablets and inside their scrolls.

tell you, there are times when words are so glad to be set free they laugh out loud and prance across their tablets and inside their scrolls.

I tell you, there are times when words are so glad to be set free they laugh out loud and prance across their tablets and inside their scrolls. So it was with the words I wrote. They reveled till dawn.

Why do you think Lara is Lara Casnoff, and Mrs. Casnoff is Mrs. Casnoff?” Elodie whispered as she worked her magic on the enchanted door. “It’s her family name, right? So shouldn’t she be Miss Casnoff? Or Ms.?” Of all the things to wonder about, that’s what you’re focused on? Her marital status? “It’s weird, that’s all I’m saying,” she hissed in reply. You know you can talk to me in my head, right? You don’t have to talk out loud and make everyone think I’m a crazy person. Just FYI. “The only time I can talk is when I’m in your body, so sue me, I’m taking advantage of that.” Before we could snipe at each other anymore, the door suddenly gave way. Pushing it open, Elodie dashed inside, closing the door behind her. Lara Casnoff’s office was the total opposite of Mrs. Casnoff’s, complete with soaring bookcases and a heavy wooden desk so brightly polished that I could see myself in it. “Any idea on where we should start?” Elodie whispered. The desk, I finally said. It’ll be locked, and if it’s anything like Mrs. Casnoff’s desk, magic won’t work on it. There’s a nail in my pocket. Get it out, and I’ll talk you through jimmying the lock. Elodie’s disdain flooded over me, but she got the nail and went to work on the lock. “Were you a burglar in the real world?” she muttered as she worked.

I was wishing I had a story like that one to live inside me with so much loudness you could pick it up on a stethoscope.

. I was wishing I had a story like that one to live inside me with so much loudness you could pick it up on a stethoscope,

I'd forgotten how that sort of craving felt, how it rose suddenly and loudly from the pit of my stomach like a flock of startle birds, then floated back down in the slow, beguiling way of feathers.

I said out loud, "Damn you for saving yourself. How come you left me with nothing but to love you and hate you, and that's gonna kill me, and you know it is." Then I turned round, went back to the cellar room, and picked up the sewing. Don't think she wasn't in every stitch I worked. She was in the wind and the rain and the creaking from the rocker. She sat on the wall with the birds and stared at me. When darkness fell, she fell with it.

Already that morning missus had taken her cane stick to me once cross my backside for falling asleep during her devotions. Every day, all us slaves, everyone but Rosetta, who was old and demented, jammed in the dining room before breakfast to fight off sleep while missus taught us short Bible verses like “Jesus wept” and prayed out loud about God’s favorite subject, obedience. If you nodded off, you got whacked right in the middle of God said this and God said that.

Suggested Reading Atkinson, Kate. Behind the Scenes at the Museum; Binchy, Maeve. Tara Road, The Copper Beech, and Evening Class; Bloom, Amy. Come to Me; Edwards, Kim. The Memory Keeper’s Daughter; Ferris, Joshua. The Unnamed; Flynn, Gillian. Gone Girl; Foer, Jonathan Safran. Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close; Franzen, Jonathan. The Corrections; Ganesan, Indira. Inheritance; Hanilton, Jane. Disobedience; Jonasson, Jonas. The 100-Year-Old Man Who Climbed Out the Window and Disappeared; Joyce, Rachel. The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry; Kidd, Sue Monk. The Secret Life of Bees; Mapson, Jo-Ann, The Owl & Moon Cafe; McEwan, Ian. Atonement; Miller, Arthur. All My Sons; Morrison, Toni. Love; O’Neill, Eugene. Long Day’s Journey into Night; Pekkanen, Sarah. The Opposite of Me; Porter, Andrew. In Between Days; Quindlen, Anna. Blessings and One True Thing; Rosenfeld, Lucinda. The Pretty One; Sittenfeld, Curtis. Sisterland; Smith, Ali. There But For The; Tan, Amy. The Joy Luck Club; Tyler, Anne. Dinner at the Homesick Restaurant; White, Karen. The Time Between; Williams, Tennessee. Cat on a Hot Tin Roof; Woolf, Virginia. Mrs. Dalloway; Yates, Richard. The Easter Parade.

said he was attracted to the way I lived my life, the way I’d dance easily, laugh loudly, fill a room with colour; but instead of sitting back and enjoying the butterfly, he caught it. He framed me like a butterfly, pinning me into his frame, but the pins that hold the butterfly in place are not easily visible, and no one can see I’m being held down. Over the years the butterfly has faded – he’s stripped me of everything that made me what I was, and now he’s left with this dull, colourless woman who’s scared to say what she really thinks. And I can’t dance any more. It’s hard to reconcile the person I once was with the woman I am now, standing helplessly in my beautiful bedroom with handmade oak wardrobes and gold silk eiderdown. The only reason I get out of bed in the morning is my children; they are my reason to live, and without them I don’t think I would survive. Things have never been perfect between Simon and I, but until Caroline, my life was bearable, but now I see her curling up on our king-sized bed. She’s lounging seductively on our sofa, arms around the boys, my boys, and she’s in my kitchen serving breakfast. This woman wants to take over my husband, but she’ll also take over my life,

The next morning, Francine, Muffy, and Buster stood before Arthur. They weren’t taking any chances. “Do we have a turkey?” they asked. Arthur just smiled. The whole school filed into the auditorium. “OOOoo!” said the kids when the lights went out. “Shhhh!” said the teachers as the curtain went up. “In 1620, we sailed to America on the Mayflower,” recited Buster, proudly. “Phew!” said Arthur. The play continued smoothly. Muffy didn’t drop the cranberries. The Brain had his costume on correctly. Sue Ellen said her lines in a loud, clear voice. And Francine had even taken off her movie-star glasses. Then it came time for Francine’s big speech. She crossed her fingers and began. “When the Indians and Pilgrims finally found a turkey, there was great rejoicing. Today, when we think of Thanksgiving, we think of turkey.” There was a lot of fumbling behind the curtain. Arthur took a deep breath. He walked onstage. As soon as he did, the audience began to laugh. Arthur turned bright red. This was going to be even worse than he had thought it would be. “The turkey,” Arthur began, “is a symbol, a symbol of…of…” “Of togetherness and Thanksgiving!” said a chorus of voices behind him. Arthur turned around and smiled. “I guess Mom was right. The world is full of turkeys! Okay, turkeys, all together now. Let’s hear that last line, loud and clear.” “Happy Thanksgiving!

I want to sue the Burns kid. I want to sue his parents for leaving their guns so easily accessible to this punk. I want to sue the school and the school system for their lax security and shit preparedness. God knows there have been enough shootings for someone to figure out how to protect our kids in these situations. I want to sue the gun manufacturers, the gun lobby, and the fucking NRA for usurping and bastardizing the Second Amendment, turning it into something it was never intended to be. They carried and shot muskets in 1776, for crying out loud! What does the Second Amendment have to do with assault rifles? Why does any citizen need an AR15 or an AK47?

It was cosy and romantic then, now it’s loud and busy, and instead of the excitement and hope I had weeks ago, now I feel upset.

The Call of the Lord By Sue Buchanan, Tennessee Grits My young daughter Dana often visited her grandparents in a small Southern town where every day a siren blew to mark the noon hour. It was so loud that it terrified the poor girl and left her screaming. In order to soothe her and held her understand, her preacher grandpa (my daddy) told her the horn was to let the children know it was time to go home for lunch. He even suggested that Dana say the words “Go home and get your lunch” each time the whistle blew, which she would do at the top of her little lungs, albeit with the fear of god written all over her face. One Sunday, our entire family was packed into the second row of the church, listening to Dad deliver his sermon. He was pretty wound up that day, if I remember correctly. It was breezy and all the church windows were open. Well, right in the middle of his railing, and before we realized what was happening, darn it if that noon whistle didn’t blow. Dana stood up in the pew, turned toward the three hundred people in the congregation, and shouted, “Go home and get your lunch!” Do I have to tell you what happened? Church was over at that very moment. No benediction and no sevenfold amen! Later my preacher daddy, who had the world’s best sense of humor, admitted: “It wouldn’t have been so bad if half the congregation hadn’t shouted amen!

I had to have sex with any man who asked for me. I had to have sex at least three times a night, sometimes seven or eight times in one night. The majority were Americans. They like to have fun and you can’t imagine how they act. They drink a lot, they speak loudly they make fun of the girls and treat us like rubbish. I wanted to stop them behaving this way. They shouldn’t do this. It is not fair, not only for me but for all the girls in this situation.’ Her clients, she explains, were members of the UN peacekeeping forces, the SFOR or Stabilisation Force, and the UN-appointed IPTF, the International Police Task Force, policemen who had been recruited from all over the world to help the process of nation-building in Bosnia in the late 1990s. It was these men, tasked with rebuilding a broken country, who refused to help Monica when she pleaded for help.

loud: for a son who was a hunter, for a daughter who would look after her parents when they were old, for an easy birth. The animals knew the goodness of that place. Caribou, lynx, bear came to drink. Muskrats made their lodges along the banks of the outlet rivers that flowed to the North Sea. In summers there were birds—mergansers, grebes, loons. In winter, the lake was a fine place to catch blackfish,