Ninja Turtles Quotes

As far as I knew, Nadia was still with her new guy, some fancy tennis player from Brazil. Donatello or Michelangelo or something. Ninja Turtle? Yeah.

Most Shadowhunters get their first Marks at twelve. It must have been in your blood.” “Maybe. Although I doubt most Shadowhunters get a tattoo of Donatello from the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles on their left shoulder.” Jace looked baffled. “You wanted a turtle on your shoulder?” -Jace & Clary, pg. 314-

Larry's zombie bag was a nearly virulent green with Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles on it. I was almost afraid to ask what his vampire bag looked like.

Sleep just go to sleep. Cam lived across the hall? You need to get up early. Go to sleep. How in the world was that possible? He was everywhere I went. Go to sleep. And why did he have a pet turtle and did he seriously name it after the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, because that was kind of funny. Morning's going to come soon. Did he only wear a shirt during class? Oh my God, he seriously lived across the hall. Jacob was going to flip...and probably move in. That would be fun. I really liked Jacob, but I had a feeling he'd borrow my clothes. Go the fuck to sleep.

Maybe. Although I doubt most Shadowhunters get a tattoo of Donatello from the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles on their left shoulder.

Like if Leonardo from the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles started being all bummed out about everything. How were we going to kick arse if our Leonardo was wearing a black eye-band instead of a blue one?

Wise men say, 'Forgiveness is divine, but never pay full price for late pizza.

Gregori leaned forward. "Can you believe it? We're all a bunch of mutants! Just like the Ninja Turtles." Angus blinked. "We - we're like... turtles?" Gregori burst out lauging. Ian shook his head, grinning. Connor snorted. "Nay. We have vampire DNA. No turtles.

Today a child told Santa Ken that he wanted his dead father back and a complete set of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Everyone wants those Turtles.

Rabbits are played. Nowadays it's all about the turtles. Tell them it's a ninja, they'll freak.

Pandora, meet my brothers, Leonardo and Michelangelo." "Like the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles?" she couldn't resist asking. "Like the Renaissance painters," Leo snapped. He exchanged a snarl with his twin brother. "I seriously hate those damned turtles.

As the class went through the Greeks and the Romans and the Renaissance painters, (who were easy enough to remember if you’d ever seen Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles) there was more dick on display than in a locker room.

What in the hell was that supposed to be? What are you...a Ninja Turtle?

Do you know about the Turtle?” She said turtle in a way that made it sound like a proper noun. I thought of saying I know about the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, and didn’t. It was decades too early for Leonardo, Donatello, Raphael, and Michelangelo. So I just shook my head. She

I wanna have a Eureka moment,” he said, the way another kid might have expressed longing for a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle. She pressed the back of her hand to his cheek and smiled, her face so close to his that he could smell coffee and makeup. “Of course, Colin baby. Of course you will.” But mothers lie. It’s in the job description.

All of us were poor, and no amount of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles memorabilia would change that

I’m not being superficial but he actually looked like sewer rat guy from Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

just running and doing, like, fighting moves in the air—not really hitting each other, but more like at each other, lots of weird Ninja Turtle–type kicks,

Shrek Kermit the frog Green Giant Green Arrow Grinch Yoda Ninja Turtles And Oscar the Grouch They’re real cool. And they’re greeeeeeen!

It was things like the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, he thought, that made you believe the world was maybe just as well off destroyed.

What are you doing?" my mom asked. One side of her mouth curled up. "I'm trying to move that cup." My parents laughed. I concentrated on the coffee cup, but it didn't budge. "I guess I'll have to work on this telekinesis thing. It'll come in handy when Ben is hogging the TV remote and forcing me to watch Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles for the fifty-millionth time.

If you hurt her, I will kill you.” She pointed her finger at me for emphasis. I was perfectly still, giving zero fucks about this five-foot-four gnome firing threats at me like she was Rambo. “Cock-blocking me first and threatening me? Should I remind you that the only reason you’re not living in a sewer with that rat who trains the Ninja Turtles is because of my generosity?” I

To be a damn genius, you are so obtuse. I don’t care if it’s Godzilla or Frankenstein or fucking Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. It doesn’t matter what’s on the screen, Banner. I just don’t want you to leave.

You see this in the toy business. Some owners of hot toys want to put their hot toy name on everything. The result is that it becomes an enormous fad that is bound to collapse. When everybody has a Ninja turtle, nobody wants one anymore. The Ninja turtle is a good example of a fad that collapses in a hurry because the owner of the concept got greedy. The owner fans the fad rather than dampening it. On the other hand, the Barbie doll is a trend. When Barbie was invented years ago, the doll was never heavily merchandised into other areas. As a result, the Barbie doll has become a long-term trend in the toy business.

He sighed and took another comic book off the stack. Some ridiculous fucking thing called Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. The Ninja Turtles were supposed to be “heroes on a half-shell.” He threw Raphael, Donatello, and their numbfuck buddies across the store and the comic book they inhabited fluttered down in a tent shape on top of a cash register. It was things like the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, he thought, that made you believe the world was maybe just as well off destroyed.

Truth [10w] Tell the truth and its enemies will scatter like roaches. Inventory of a Lost Childhood 1. Lion King’s Simba missing an eye 2. Conan the Barbarian missing a sword 3. Transformer missing an arm/wing/machine gun 4. Scooby-Doo missing a head 5. Star Wars’ R2-D2 missing a gripping tool 6. Etch-a-Sketch missing a knob 7. Powell Peralta skateboard missing a wheel 8. Teenage Mutant Ninja turtle missing a nunchuk 9. Atari console missing a joystick 10. G.I. Joe missing in action

Being good at something feels great. Playing ninja turtles with two little boys for hours on end is sometimes less great. It’s so easy to hop on a plane or say yes to one more meeting or project, to get that little buzz of being good at something, or the pleasure bump of making someone happy, or whatever it is that drives you. And many of us continue to pretend we don’t have a choice—the success just happened, and we’re along for the ride. The opportunities kept coming, and anyone in our position would have jumped to meet them. But we’re the ones who keep putting up the chairs. If I work in such a way that I don’t have enough energy to give to my marriage, I need to take down some chairs. If I say yes to so many work things that my kids only get to see tired mommy, I need to take down some chairs. I know I’ve let my work win sometimes. I know I’ve gotten the math wrong, sometimes unwittingly, believing I could fit in more than I could. There have been times I’ve hidden behind my work, because work is easier to control than a hard conversation with someone you love. That’s part of the challenge of stewarding a calling, for all of us: you get it wrong sometimes. And part of stewarding that calling is sometimes taking down some chairs. We have more authority, and therefore, more responsibility than we think. We decide where the time goes. There’s so much freedom in that, and so much responsibility

You’re very brave,” Paige told her. “Do you ever get scared?” Malia nodded, her brown eyes wide. “I don’t like it when my mom cries. It makes me feel bad. An’ I don’t like the dark very much, so I sleep with a Ninja Turtle nightlight.

they combed our hair while we watched Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. One hundred brushstrokes a night, Mama ordered, no more or no less.

Baby Turtle Synth. Only the biggest concert of the year by the group of the decade was finally coming to our city. BTS is one of the biggest music groups in the Overworld! I have all their music discs. Their next concert is right here in Central City, and it’s this week! The tickets are impossible to get.

What’s your safe word?” he asked. “I almost forgot.” “Leonardo.” I blurted out the first thing that came to mind. Bret laughed. “Like the actor or the Ninja Turtle? I want to make sure I have the proper visual in mind when you scream his name.” “I’m sure as hell not going to be screaming your name.” The possibility was becoming more real, but I’d never tell him. “I was thinking the actor, but I want you to picture the turtle.” “Deal.

Go f*@k yourself," SWAT Guy growled at Ozzie. "Better thank f*@king you, Middle Aged Mutant Ninja Turtle," Ozzie retorted.

Leaning back, she studied me, knuckles brushing along my jaw. “You’ve turned into a man overnight, it seems. Just yesterday, this face was three years old with a samurai turtle Band-Aid on your cheek.” “Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Mom. Way more awesome than samurais.” “You’re right. Ninjas have masks and nut chucks.” Any other time I would have laughed. “Nunchakus.” “I know, but you definitely did some damage to your nuts that I think you should get checked out before you have children. I meant to tell you years ago.

From the top of my head to the soles of my feet, I'm wearing black: knit watch cap, a long-sleeved wool pullover on top of a polypropylene undershirt, tough black Cordura nylon cargo pants and high-top black cross-trainers. It's all very ninja. Over all that, I've got a Kevlar-lined tactical vest with six magazines of nine-millimeter frangible ammunition. The magazines are for the suppressed Uzi submachine gun slung over my back. I've also got a black tactical belt rig around my waist, suppressed Ruger .22 automatic riding low on one hip, with two spare mags and a combat knife balancing the load on the other side. I've got a short-range secure radio set clipped to my back, the wire running up to a headset tucked around my ear, throat mic hanging loose at the moment. One frag grenade and two flash-bangs round out my arsenal. I've got a small LED flashlight, a multi-tool, a couple of plastic zip-tie restraints, and that's it. I like to keep my loadout light so I'm quick on my feet; I've seen too many guys bite it because they were turtled by their combat gear. I feel like a G.I. Joe commando. Hell, all I need is a code-name.

Look, the point is, tiny fire-breathing dinosaur, stacked up against a doofus not-so-ninja turtle and an overgrown iguana with a flower on his back—practical shit aside, he’s clearly the ace choice.

She wore leather pants, a long-sleeved shirt open over a tank top, and enough guns and knives to make her look like a pissed-off Ninja Turtle.

We hear that we need someone wise to provide guidance and immediately think of Stick, the talking sensei rat from Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

When I got back to the set, nobody ever brought it up again, but I know that one of the producers filed the event away in his brain and when it came time to make the third turtle movie, he used this as ammunition to keep me out. Which is totally cool, because that movie sucked anyway.

At recess, my friends and I talk about eating our first pepperoni pizza like the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, eating lasagna like Garfield, eating McDonald’s, watching the new Star Wars inside a theater with air-conditioning, eating “popcorn” with butter. I’ve never tried any of these things except for pizza from Pizza Hut, and that was last Christmas. “¿But

They have intense weapons, the Ninja Turtles, but they just hurt you enough so that you lose consciousness and then they retreat, because that’s the way of the samurai.

The turtles came to a halt, and before any of us could say another word, they swiftly joined themselves together, the sides of their shells connecting like Legos with a loud click. “What are they doing?!” "Maybe they’re turning into turbo turtles,” Alana said. “Or ninja turtles,” Hondo added, nodding frantically.

Yeah.” He dipped his chin and shook his head. “The boxers make it pretty clear that this wasn’t my plan for the night.” “It’s what’s under the Ninja Turtles that matters.” I giggled at the Ninja Turtles holding pizzas dotted all over the navy-blue cotton.

Center your Self on right here, right now. Breathe deep. Go with Veev.

No one will ever know you better than the people you grew up with. The ones you won with, lost with, and changed with. Sure you may end up fighting or drifting apart. That always happens over time. But, that will never change the fact that they knew you before they were you. And that bond, that bond can make them family.

Kevin awoke, not with the slow realization that came from regaining consciousness, nor with the startled gasp of a man having a nightmare, nor even the groan that was stereotypical of anime characters when they wake up—no, when Kevin woke up, it was to the feeling of a hand being shoved down his throat. His eyes snapped wide open. However, he still couldn’t see anything. His eyes perceived nothing beyond the amalgam of blurred colors, mixing and matching and morphing and changing, a sickening compendium that his mind couldn’t comprehend. Images flashed past his vision. A walk on the beach. Red hair. A swell. A raging torrent, an infinite tide of water rising into the sky, cresting against the heavens. He tried to cough, to hack, to something, but it was no use. The hand remained shoved firmly down his throat. And then it was gone. Kevin gagged, and then coughed out what must have been several gallons of water. Each cough wracked his body with pain. Each breath caused his ribs to creak. Even the slightest movement hurt. Something appeared in front of him. It was a blurry green object. What… the… heck? “I’m glad to see that you’re awake,” the shape said. Kevin blinked. “Tell me, how many fingers am I holding up?” “Fingers…” Was what he meant to say. “Fssshrrsss…” Was what he said. “Hmm, it seems your eyesight is a bit unfocused. Here, let me fix that for you.” Kevin would have asked what this object—person? — meant, but he never got the chance—because something smacked him in the head. Hard. “Ouch!” Kevin covered his face with his hands. Gods that hurt! What the hell was he just hit with? A mallet? “What the heck was that for, you crazy coot?!” “Ho? Can you see me now? How many fingers am I holding up?” Kevin was about to answer, but words fled when he realized who—no, what stood before him. Scaly green skin covered a small, squat body, clothed in a plain brown robe. This… thing stood with a stoop. It had a hunch of some kind, and Kevin was certain that the robe was covering something big attached to its back. A really long neck protruded from the robes, which was attached to a reptilian and very bald head. It was holding up three fingers. Mainly because it only had three fingers. “Holy crap, it’s a Ninja Turtle!” The “Ninja Turtle” twitched. “I am not a Ninja Turtle!” It shouted. “Don’t confuse those sea turtle rejects with me!” “Holy crap, it talks!” More twitching. “Of course I talk, you idiot!

Kristy settled herself at a table, across from the boy. “My name is Oliver,” the boy whispered. “Hi, I’m Kristy.” “Okay.” Oliver smiled. “Do you know how to spell Leonardo and Donatello?” Kristy raised her eyebrows. Oliver couldn’t have been more than eight. “What are you working on?” asked Kristy. “A report?” “No, a writing paragraph.” “About famous artists?” Oliver shook his head. “I’m writing about my heroes, the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles,” he whispered.

Finally, as they sidestepped a cluster of people dressed like ninja-trained turtles in post-pubescence,

If they thought I would cower into my shell and be a turtle, they will have a freaking ninja turtle on their hands. Okay, that was lame, but all my similes are, anyway.