Magnet Fridge Quotes

I'm magnetic," she whispered, half awed and half horrified. "I hope you don't start sticking to fridges and stuff," I said in disbelief. Fang dropped down next to me, and the Gasman joined us, squishing in next to Nudge. "What's going on?" Fang asked. "I'm Magnet Girl!" Nudge said, already coming to terms with her new skill.

I remember the feeling even now; an inescapable stickines of each other like magnets on the fridge. It's funny how someone can be such an integral part of your life, like you laugh at the same jokes and eat your ice cream cones the same way and share your toys and dreams and everything but your heartbeats, and then one day - nothing. You share nothing. It's like none of it ever happened.

You could tell a lot about a person from their fridge magnets, not that he'd thought much about them at the time.

This sounds foreign, like picking words at random. Magnetic fridge poetry

But after I’d survived for so long on the scraps from my own emotional table, you spoiled me with a daily banquet of complicitous what-an-asshole looks at parties, surprise bouquets for no occasion, and fridge-magnet notes that always signed off “XXXX, Franklin.

Your luck is about to change, Abby.' His voice was low and velvety. 'I know a lot about you. I know how to get into your apartment. How to turn your cat into a noodle. The magnets on your fridge, the view from your window. Your perfume. I could find you blindfolded in a room full of strangers.' His fingers penetrated the veil of her hair, his forefinger stroking the back of her neck with controlled gentleness. 'And I learn fast. Give me ten minutes, and I'd know lots more.

I wish I was as thin as I was when I thought I was fat.

May we forget. It's a pity that the things we learn in crisis are all to be found on fridge magnets and greeting cards: seize the day, savour the moment, tell your love— May we live long enough to despise clichés again, may we heal enough to take for granted sky and water and light, because the state of blind gratitude for breath and blood is not a position of intelligence.

a fridge magnet. It said, Music teachers do it in G-strings.

No one gets fridge magnets for the travel this summer, because this season we have gone too far. And for all the trips you make inwards, there are no souvenirs and no postcards.

Her favorite was the magnet on the fridge that said, “Dinner will be ready when the smoke alarm goes off.

They were ticking off items on a to-do list that was magnet-attached to the fridge. There were nineteen items on the list. They'd crossed off fifteen. The final item was underlined: Make a life.

Ove threw away the letter along with the advertising, tied up the bag, put it by the front door, went back into the kitchen, got out a magnet from the bottom drawer, and put up the photo on the fridge. Right next to the riotous color drawing the three-year-old had made of him on the way back from the hospital.

Likely you left Falling after the waterfall selfie and didn’t look back. Maybe on the way out you bought an overpriced shot glass, or a mug like this one. Or a magnet with a Falls pic better than the ones you took. Perhaps it’s getting struck by a rainbow. I’m Falling for You. My mom gave me one that said that once, as a joke. I took it with me everywhere. Put it on every fridge I’ve ever had since, even this one. This summer I gave it to Ava, who put it on her fridge. Our fridge, she said. I

You have a taboo list?” Jade asked. “You don’t?” Lilah asked. Jade bit her lower lip and Adam laughed. “Jade has a list for everything.” “True,” Dell said, studying her, getting nothing from her expression. She had quite the game face, his Jade. “You do, you have lists for everything.” “Not everything.” “Jade, you have a list for every situation, big or small, from when to brush your teeth, to how to handle every potential patient to cross my door. Hell, you’ve got a list on what’s in your purse and my office fridge and—” “And don’t forget the list on how many different ways I could kill you,” she said, sipping her drink.

POEM – MY AMAZING TRAVELS [My composition in my book Travel Memoirs with Pictures] My very first trip I still cannot believe Was planned and executed with such great ease. My father, an Inspector of Schools, was such a strict man, He gave in to my wishes when I told him of the plan. I got my first long vacation while working as a banker One of my co-workers wanted a travelling partner. She visited my father and discussed the matter Arrangements were made without any flutter. We travelled to New York, Toronto, London, and Germany, In each of those places, there was somebody, To guide and protect us and to take us wonderful places, It was a dream come true at our young ages. We even visited Holland, which was across the Border. To drive across from Germany was quite in order. Memories of great times continue to linger, I thank God for an understanding father. That trip in 1968 was the beginning of much more, I visited many countries afterward I am still in awe. Barbados, Tobago, St. Maarten, and Buffalo, Cirencester in the United Kingdom, Miami, and Orlando. I was accompanied by my husband on many trips. Sisters, nieces, children, grandchildren, and friends, travelled with me a bit. Puerto Rico, Los Angeles, New York, and Hialeah, Curacao, Caracas, Margarita, Virginia, and Anguilla. We sailed aboard the Creole Queen On the Mississippi in New Orleans We traversed the Rockies in Colorado And walked the streets in Cozumel, Mexico. We were thrilled to visit the Vatican in Rome, The Trevi Fountain and the Colosseum. To explore the countryside in Florence, And to sail on a Gondola in Venice. My fridge is decorated with magnets Souvenirs of all my visits London, Madrid, Bahamas, Coco Cay, Barcelona. And the Leaning Tower of Pisa How can I forget the Spanish Steps in Rome? Stratford upon Avon, where Shakespeare was born. CN Tower in Toronto so very high I thought the elevator would take me to the sky. Then there was El Poble and Toledo Noted for Spanish Gold We travelled on the Euro star. The scenery was beautiful to behold! I must not omit Cartagena in Columbia, Anaheim, Las Vegas, and Catalina, Key West, Tampa, Fort Lauderdale, and Pembroke Pines, Places I love to lime. Of course, I would like to make special mention, Of two exciting cruises with Royal Caribbean. Majesty of the Seas and Liberty of the Seas Two ships which grace the Seas. Last but not least and best of all We visited Paris in the fall. Cologne, Dusseldorf, and Berlin Amazing places, which made my head, spin. Copyright@BrendaMohammed

Joule started experimenting with dynamos—machines that turn work into electricity. Dynamos, such as the ones attached to bicycle wheels, consist of a wire coil surrounding a magnet. As you pedal, the wheel makes the magnet spin, and this induces an electric current in the coil, which then powers the lights.

Any progress towards the salvation of mankind will probably start from the bottom [the family unit] when our gods have been devalued to the status of fridge magnets or garden ornaments.

Fionn sat down and pressed his fists against his eyes. 'But why can't we just be angry? Doesn't that feel much more satisfying?' 'Because gratitude for what we have been gifted is the antidote to the grief we feel when we must give it back.' His grandfather unfurled the burner flame from underneath the workbench and turned it on. 'Don't you think that would make an excellent fridge magnet?

But she did run. She was almost around the corner when his blade struck her in the back. She crumpled to the linoleum, falling arms knocking magnets off the fridge.

Kate had always been a planner. It had come from her childhood spent alone with her policeman father, one in which she ran the house and their lives because his job gave him little time to handle housework or cooking, and what time they had he wanted to spend with his daughter. As an adult, she’d still write out shopping lists on a magnetic pad affixed to the fridge, adding to the list daily to ensure nothing would be forgotten. Before the advent of GPS, she would plan a journey or trip in a notebook with military precision, working out arrival times or stops along the way, and when it came to work, no one was more methodical than Kate Young. Chris was the yin to her yang, with a devil-may-care attitude and a zest for spontaneity. They balanced each other: he lifting her from too solemn an outlook on life, and she grounding him whenever he had a wild whim to do something so utterly crazy it bordered on foolhardy. Her world was full of order. Some found her too serious-minded and were irritated by her attitude. Others, like William Chase, praised her for it. It got results.

It is hard to appreciate now, but there was once a time before mobile phones and text messages when people communicated with each other by sticking notes to refrigerators using magnets. It got to be so commonplace that it became the secondary purpose of fridges themselves. Families would leave dinner instructions, teenagers would explain their whereabouts, and unhappy wives would initiate divorces, all using short Heminway-esque messages affixed at eye level using coloured magnetic letters. In fact there was a widespread panic in the refrigeration industry when text messages became popular. And then, when free texts became available, the National Association of Subzero Appliances (the other NASA, as they called themselves) brought a case to the Supreme Court, citing an infringement of their right to earn a livelihood.

To my surprise, a little silver brick falls out. I recognize it instantly. It’s one of the really strong refrigerator magnets Noah bought when Emma and Aidan’s drawings kept falling off the fridge. But why did he have a magnet in his sweatshirt? What had he been planning to do with it?

His eyes fall to his hand, and I notice he’s holding the Boston magnet. I brought it from the old apartment and stuck it on this fridge when we moved in. He places it back on the fridge and taps it. “Where’d you get this?

His arm comes around my waist from behind. He slides a hand up my stomach and takes a firm hold of one of my breasts. His other hand feathers my shoulder as he moves the hair away from my neck. I squeeze my eyes shut, just as fingers begin to trace across my skin, up to my shoulder. He slowly runs his finger over the heart and a shudder runs through my whole body. His lip meets my skin, right over the tattoo, and then he sinks his teeth into me so hard, I scream […] He’s really angry now. “He’s in everything. The magnet on the fridge. The journal in the box I found in our closet. The fucking tattoo on your body that used to be my favorite goddamn part of you!

An artist draws attention to something they find interesting. I love this idea of creativity because it’s down to earth. Photos posted online, an oil painting in the national gallery, a fridge magnet, a sculpture in the street – they’re a finger pointing at something the artist is enthusiastic about and want to share.

When a house is personalized, buyers feel like they're intruding into another's den. Instead, mimic a model home. Pictures of the wedding, fridge magnets from the Jamaican honeymoon, and the thousand frames of Junior's grin gotta go.

She laughed and led him into the kitchen, but the amusement died in her throat when he reached for the fridge door, presumably to keep the beer cold, then stopped. He frowned and leaned closer. Peered at the photograph held in place by a brown-eyed-Susan magnet. This one showed Emma at a Red Sox game with Sean’s arm draped around her shoulder and the green field of Fenway Park behind them. He was still frowning. “This creeps me out a little. Isn’t that supposed to be Lisa? I’m pretty sure I was at that game with Mikey and his wife.” “It was Lisa who did the manipulating, not me, if that makes it any less creepy.” “Not really. Just how many of these fake pictures do you have?” “A couple dozen, I guess, that Lisa’s done for me over time. We’re not really photograph happy, which helps, but I’ve got enough so it looks like we’re a couple, at least.

I AM NOT A BAD PERSON FOR PUTTING ME FIRST. That’s what I want to leave you with today. Write it down, on your hand, spell it out in fridge magnets, send yourself an email – do whatever you want to tell yourself that today, OK? You are important. You deserve a space in the world. You can come first.

Maxwell was saying that as waves move down electric field lines, they generate waves in an accompanying magnetic field. He pictured these waves at right angles to one another. For example, say the electric field wave oscillates up and down as it moves past you from left to right. Then the accompanying magnetic field wave will oscillate toward you and away from you. And, important, creating this magnetic wave takes effort just as moving the weighted beads in the rope took effort.

A magnet on his mini-fridge reads: “Falling down is part of life. Getting back up is living.

He headed down to the stairwell and followed it up the extra flight to the roof. There was a metal fire door with a crash bar on it. Posted on the wall next to the door was a list of rules for using the sun deck which seemed to amount to don’t be a dick about it. A note was stuck to the metal door with a blue X, one of the magnetic letters kids used on the fridge.

I love it when she offers me my own beer like it's her fridge

Later mum had a fridge magnet that said 'Dull women have immaculate homes

model village meant there’d be a car park full of practical estate cars and a café/gift shop where one could buy overpriced scones and bafflingly pointless fridge magnets.

Other Kinds of Fun LARGE MOTOR SKILLS ♦  Take a walk on a balance beam, along the curb, or even down a line on the sidewalk. ♦  Play catch (start with a large, slightly deflated ball). ♦  Jump over things (anything more than a few inches, though, will be too high for most kids this age). ♦  Throw, kick, roll, and toss balls of all sizes. ♦  Ride a tricycle. ♦  Spin around till you drop. ♦  Pound, push, pull, and kick. ♦  Make music using drums, xylophones, flutes, and anything else you have handy. ♦  Play Twister. SMALL MOTOR SKILLS ♦  Puzzles (fewer than twenty pieces is probably best). You might even want to cut up a simple picture from a magazine and see whether your toddler can put it back together. ♦  Draw on paper or with chalk on the sidewalk. ♦  Sculpt with clay or other molding substance. ♦  Finger paint. ♦  Play with string and large beads. ♦  Pour water or sand or seeds from one container to another. ♦  Get a big box (from a dishwasher or refrigerator), then build, paint and decorate a house together. THE BRAIN ♦  Matching games. ♦  Alphabet and number games (put colorful magnetic letters and numbers on the fridge and leave them low enough for the child to reach). ♦  Lots of dress-up clothes. ♦  Dolls of all kinds (including action figures). ♦  Pretending games with “real” things (phones, computer keyboards). ♦  Imaginary driving trips where you talk about all the things you see on the road. Be sure to let your toddler drive part of the way. ♦  Sorting games (put all the pennies, or all the triangles, or all the cups together). ♦  Arranging games (big, bigger, biggest). ♦  Smelling games. Blindfold your toddler and have him identify things by their scent. ♦  Pattern games (small-big/small-big). ♦  Counting games (How many pencils are there?). A FEW FUN THINGS FOR RAINY DAYS (OR ANYTIME) ♦  Have pillow fights. ♦  Make a really, really messy art project. ♦  Cook something—kneading bread or pizza dough is especially good, as is roasting marshmallows on the stove (see pages 214–20 for more). ♦  Go baby bowling (gently toss your toddler onto your bed). ♦  Try other gymnastics (airplane rides: you’re on your back, feet up in the air, baby’s tummy on your feet, you and baby holding hands). ♦  Dance and/or sing. ♦  Play hide-and-seek. ♦  Stage a puppet show. ♦  If it’s not too cold, go outside, strip down to your underwear, and paint each other top-to-bottom with nontoxic, water-based paints. Otherwise, get bundled up and go for a long, wet, sloppy, muddy stomp in the rain. If you don’t feel like getting wet, get in the car and drive through puddles.

The kitchen is a mishmash of bright colored things and well-tended houseplants. The curtains are embroidered with tulips, the fridge plastered with tourist trap magnets. By the back door there’s a concrete statue of a woman carrying a jug on her head, a spider plant spilling its offspring like a veil over her face. A chain of ivy starts in a jar on a shelf over the sink and travels along the wall on hooks for half the room. The salt and pepper shakers on the table are dachshunds wearing hot dog buns.

His arm comes around my waist from behind. He slides a hand up my stomach and takes a firm hold of one of my breasts. His other hand feathers my shoulder as he moves the hair away from my neck. I squeeze my eyes shut, just as his fingers begin to trace across my skin, up to my shoulder. He slowly runs his finger over the heart and a shudder runs over my whole body. His lips meet my skin, right over the tattoo, and then he sinks his teeth into me so hard, I scream. I try to pull away from him, but he has such a tight grip on me he doesn’t even budge. The pain from his teeth piercing my collarbone rips through my shoulder and down my arm. I immediately start crying. Sobbing. “Ryle, let me go,” I say, my voice pleading. “Please. Walk away.” His arms are cutting into mine as he holds me tightly from behind. He spins me, but my eyes are still closed. I’m too scared to look at him. His hands are digging into my shoulders as he pushes me toward the bed. I start trying to fight him off of me, but it’s useless. He’s too strong for me. He’s angry. He’s hurt. And he’s not Ryle. My back meets the bed and I frantically scoot back toward the headboard, trying to get away from him. “Why is he still here, Lily?” His voice isn’t as composed as it was in the kitchen. He’s really angry now. “He’s in everything. The magnet on the fridge. The journal in the box I found in our closet. The fucking tattoo on your body that used to be my favorite goddamn part of you!” He’s on the bed now. “Ryle,” I beg. “I can explain.” Tears streak down my temples and into my hair. “You’re angry. Please don’t hurt me, please. Walk away, and when you come back, I’ll explain.” His hand grips my ankle and he yanks me until I’m beneath him. “I’m not angry, Lily,” he says, his voice disturbingly calm now. “I just think I haven’t proved to you how much I love you.” His body comes down against mine and he takes my wrists with one hand above my head, pressing them against the mattress. “Ryle, please.” I’m sobbing, trying to push him off of me with any part of my body. “Get off me. Please.” No, no, no, no. “I love you, Lily,” he says, his words crashing against my cheek. “More than he ever did. Why can’t you see that?” My fear folds in on itself, and I become diluted with rage. All I can see when I squeeze my eyes shut is my mother crying on our old living room couch; my father forcing himself on top of her. Hatred rips through me and I start screaming. Ryle tries to muffle my screams with his mouth. I bite down on his tongue. His forehead comes crashing down against mine. In an instant, all the pain fades as a blanket of darkness rolls over my eyes and consumes me.