Pennywise Quotes

Eddie discovered one of his childhood's great truths. Grownups are the real monsters, he thought.

stop now before i kill you a word to the wise from your friend PENNYWISE

Oh Christ, he groaned to himself, if this is the stuff adults have to think about I never want to grow up

Seven, Richie thought. That's the magic number. There has to be seven of us. That's the way it's supposed to be.

Want a balloon?

Kill you all!" The clown was laughing and screaming. "Try to stop me and I'll kill you all! Drive you crazy and then kill you all! You can't stop me!

For a moment he felt a wild hope: perhaps this really was a nightmare. Perhaps he would awake in his own bed, bathed in sweat, shaking, maybe even crying . . . but alive. Safe. Then he pushed the thought away. Its charm was deadly, its comfort fatal.

Want your boat, Georgie?' Pennywise asked. 'I only repeat myself because you really do not seem that eager.' He held it up, smiling. He was wearing a baggy silk suit with great big orange buttons. A bright tie, electric-blue, flopped down his front, and on his hands were big white gloves, like the kind Mickey Mouse and Donald Duck always wore. Yes, sure,' George said, looking into the stormdrain. And a balloon? I’ve got red and green and yellow and blue...' Do they float?' Float?' The clown’s grin widened. 'Oh yes, indeed they do. They float! And there’s cotton candy...' George reached. The clown seized his arm. And George saw the clown’s face change. What he saw then was terrible enough to make his worst imaginings of the thing in the cellar look like sweet dreams; what he saw destroyed his sanity in one clawing stroke. They float,' the thing in the drain crooned in a clotted, chuckling voice. It held George’s arm in its thick and wormy grip, it pulled George toward that terrible darkness where the water rushed and roared and bellowed as it bore its cargo of storm debris toward the sea. George craned his neck away from that final blackness and began to scream into the rain, to scream mindlessly into the white autumn sky which curved above Derry on that day in the fall of 1957. His screams were shrill and piercing, and all up and down Witcham Street people came to their windows or bolted out onto their porches. They float,' it growled, 'they float, Georgie, and when you’re down here with me, you’ll float, too–' George's shoulder socked against the cement of the curb and Dave Gardener, who had stayed home from his job at The Shoeboat that day because of the flood, saw only a small boy in a yellow rain-slicker, a small boy who was screaming and writhing in the gutter with muddy water surfing over his face and making his screams sound bubbly. Everything down here floats,' that chuckling, rotten voice whispered, and suddenly there was a ripping noise and a flaring sheet of agony, and George Denbrough knew no more. Dave Gardener was the first to get there, and although he arrived only forty-five seconds after the first scream, George Denbrough was already dead. Gardener grabbed him by the back of the slicker, pulled him into the street...and began to scream himself as George's body turned over in his hands. The left side of George’s slicker was now bright red. Blood flowed into the stormdrain from the tattered hole where his left arm had been. A knob of bone, horribly bright, peeked through the torn cloth. The boy’s eyes stared up into the white sky, and as Dave staggered away toward the others already running pell-mell down the street, they began to fill with rain.

Pennywise: "I'll kill you all! Ha-ha! I'll drive you crazy and then I'll kill you all! I'm every nightmare you ever had! I am your worst dream come true! I'm everything you ever were afraid of!

I remember that I wanted to kill It,' Bill said, and for the first time (and ever after) he heard the pronoun gain proper-noun status in his own voice.

My father, ” she said, pronouncing it fadder, and Beverly saw that her dress had also changed. It had become a scabrous, peeling black. The cameo was a skull, its jaw hung in a diseased gape. “His name was Robert Gray, better known as Bob Gray, better known as Pennywise the Dancing Clown. Although that was not his name, either. But he did love his joke, my fadder.

Pennywise and the Clowns.

When people talk about the stuff of mine that's frightened them onscreen, they're apt to mention Pennywise the Clown first, then Kathy Bates as Annie Wilkes, and then the floating vampire-boys in Lot.

Derry was hard, that Derry didn’t much give a shit if any of them lived or died, and certainly not if they triumphed over Pennywise the Clown. Derryfolk had lived with Pennywise in all his guises for a long time . . . and maybe, in some mad way, they had even come to understand him. To like him, need him. Love him? Maybe. Yes, maybe that too.

Pelit itu payah! Hemat itu jenius!

Creepy as hell. You ever see that TV movie about the clown in the sewer?” Hodges shook his head. Later—only weeks before his retirement—he bought a DVD copy of the film, and Pete was right. The mask-face was very close to the face of Pennywise, the clown in the movie.

THE LOSERS ARE STILL LOSING, BUT STANLEY URIS IS FINALLY AHEAD.

I, Georgie, am Mr. Bob Gray, also known as Pennywise the Dancing Clown.

The mask-face was very close to the face of Pennywise, the clown in the movie. The

Pennywise the Dancing Clown is every menacing figure you see. But the ones who float, in this apt soliloquy, look mighty similar to me. I don't think we're all Georgie.

The high schoolers went in costume to the annual Halloween dance in the gym, for which a local garage band, Big Top, renamed themselves Pennywise and the Clowns.

Basta ya o los mato. Es un consejo de su amigo Pennywise.

In Maine, around the Lewiston/Auburn/Derry area, there was a place called PENNYWISE CIRCUS. A

I think what was here before is still here... the thing that has shown up every twenty-seven years or so. Sometimes it comes a little sooner, sometimes a little later... but it always comes... It always comes back, you see. It.

I, Georgie, am Mr. Bob Gray, also known as Pennywise the Dancing Clown. Pennywise, meet George Denbrough. George, meet Pennywise. And now we know each other. I’m not a stranger to you, and you’re not a stranger to me. Kee-rect? ” George

Most of the great cities were gone, but other points of interest had appeared in their places. In Vermont there was a dense forest, built up around a place called ORPHANHENGE; in New Hampshire there was a spot marked THE TREE HOUSE OF THE MIND. A little north of Boston, there was something called LOVECRAFT KEYHOLE; it was a crater in the rough shape of a padlock. In Maine, around the Lewiston/Auburn/Derry area, there was a place called PENNYWISE CIRCUS. A narrow highway titled THE NIGHT ROAD led south, reddening the farther it went, until it was a line of blood trickling into Florida.

Want your boat, Georgie?” Pennywise asked. “I only repeat myself because you really do not seem that eager.” He held it up, smiling. He was wearing a baggy silk suit with great big orange buttons. A bright tie, electric-blue, flopped down his front, and on his hands were big white gloves, like the kind Mickey Mouse and Donald Duck always wore. “Yes, sure,” George said, looking into the stormdrain. “And a balloon? I’ve got red and green and yellow and blue. . . .” “Do they float?” “Float?” The clown’s grin widened. “Oh yes, indeed they do. They float! And there’s cotton candy. . . .” George reached. The clown seized his arm.

Rosamond, accustomed from her childhood to an extravagant household, thought that good housekeeping consisted simply in ordering the best of everything––nothing else 'answered;' and Lydgate supposed that 'if things were done at all, they must be done properly'–he did not see how they were to live otherwise. If each head of household expenditure had been mentioned to him beforehand, he would have probably observed that 'it could hardly come to much,' and if any one had suggested a saving on a particular article–for example, the substitution of cheap fish for dear–it would have appeared to him simply a penny-wise, mean notion.

October 6, 2017 “Here I sit next to the telephone. I put my free hand on it . . . let it slide down . . . touch the holes in the dial that could put me in touch with all of them, my old pals. We went deep together. We went into the black together. Would we come out of the black if we went in a second time? I don’t think so. Please God I don’t have to call them. Please God.

October 3, 2017 The clown, Hagarty said, looked like a cross between Ronald McDonald and that old TV clown, Bozo—or so he thought at first. It was the wild tufts of orange hair that brought such comparisons to mind. But later consideration had caused him to think the clown really looked like neither. The smile painted over the white pancake was red, not orange, and the eyes were a weird shiny silver. Contact lenses, perhaps . . . but a part of him thought then and continued to think that maybe that silver had been the real color of those eyes. He wore a baggy suit with big orange-pompom buttons; on his hands were cartoon gloves. “If you need help, Don,” the clown said, “help yourself to a balloon.” And it offered the bunch it held in one hand. “They float,” the clown said. “Down here we all float; pretty soon your friend will float, too.

Flexible people are rare. Organizations discourage flexibility by rewarding performance rather than development. Many organizations train people without developing them, or expect society at large to pay the price of development. These organizations may be penny-wise and pound-foolish. Organizations have to develop people in order to have promotable “raw material” that can be trained later on. The cost of training people who reject change and are defensive about their deficiencies is many times more expensive than the cost of development. Developing human resources is inexpensive as compared with the costs of turnover, the costs of repetitive training, and the costs of lowered morale.

I WANDER THE film criticism district, formulating theories, grinding axes; it keeps me sane in these insane times to return to my roots, to praise those films and filmmakers worthy of an audience’s attention, to destroy those filmmakers who loose self-satisfied garbage onto the world. Consider Stranger Than Fiction, I say to my imagined lecture hall full of cinephiles: a wonderfully quirky film starring William Ferrell and the always adorkable Zooey Deschanel. The work done here by director Marc Forster (who directed the unfortunately misguided, misogynistic, and racistic Monster’s Ball) and screenwriter Zachary H. Elms is stellar in that all the metacinematic techniques work, its construction analogous to that of a fine Swiss watch (no accident that a wristwatch figures so prominently into the story!). Compare this to any mess written by Charlie Kaufman. Stranger Than Fiction is the film Kaufman would’ve written if he were able to plan and structure his work, rather than making it up as he goes along, throwing in half-baked concepts willy-nilly, using no criterion other than a hippy-dippy “that’d be cool, man.” Such a criterion might work if the person making that assessment had even a shred of humanism within his soul. Kaufman does not, and so he puts his characters through hellscapes with no hope of them achieving understanding or redemption. Will Ferrell learns to live fully in the course of Stranger Than Fiction. Dame Emily Thomson, who plays his “author,” learns her own lessons about compassion and the value and function of art. Had Kaufman written this film, it would have been a laundry list of “clever” ideas culminating in some unearned emotional brutality and a chain reaction of recursional activity wherein it is revealed that the author has an author who has an author who has an author who has an author, et chetera, thus leaving the audience depleted, depressed, and, most egregiously, cheated. What Kaufman does not understand is that such “high concepts” are not an end in themselves but an opportunity to explore actual mundane human issues. Kaufman is a monster, plain and simple, but a monster unaware of his staggering ineptitude (Dunning and Kruger could write a book about him!). Kaufman is Godzilla with dentures, Halloween’s Mike Myers with a rubber knife, Pennywise the Clown with contact dermatitis from living in a sewer. He is a pathetic—

Please stop playing Pennywise and sit in your seats,” begged their mother.

turtle acts as a counterforce to Pennywise. It claims to have created the universe but now prefers to hide in its shell and allow things to happen without interfering. King calls the turtle “a symbol of everything that is stable in the universe . . . sanity in a world where we don’t know where we came from or where we are going.

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I turn to see a man behind me. I don’t recognize him, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t from the community. He sounds cheerful, but in a Pennywise the Dancing Clown way with a smile that creeps me out, making me take a step back. I expect him to give me a balloon and say, “We all float down here.” He’s

Paul Krugman warns of the cumulative consequences of defunding education: Until now, the results of educational neglect have been gradual—a slow-motion erosion of America’s relative position. But things are about to get much worse, as the economic crisis—its effects exacerbated by the penny-wise, pound-foolish behavior that passes for “fiscal responsibility” in Washington—deals a severe blow to education across the board.

Want a Balloon?” – Pennywise, IT (1986), Stephen King

Professional Dry Cleaning is a simple procedure of getting rid of stains and dirt from the dress. Penny wise Cleaners use natural products for professional dry cleaning as these products are better stain removal.

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Hell is a place of drop ceilings, rusted ventilation grates, and fluorescent lights; the dismal ugliness and dreariness and general depression of spirit that results from these cost-saving features no doubt suppresses productivity far more than the cheapest of architectural tricks and the most deadening of lights saves money. Everyone looks like a corpse under fluorescents. Penny-wise and pound-foolish indeed.

Yes, a friend that is a girl.” “Did she get Ronald McDonald hair, too?” I frowned. “I don’t have clown hair.” “Whatever you say, Pennywise,” he said and I had to resist the urge to roll my eyes.

What kinds of things do we do in response to stress? Sapolsky notes that our reactions are “generally short-sighted, inefficient, and penny-wise and dollar-foolish.” The body mobilizes to deal with the immediate threat. This stress response is effective in a crisis but can be very costly if you experience every day as an emergency.2

I watched as users paired up Pennywise the Clown with the Babadook, calling them a queer power couple and turning the Babadook into a drag queen.

Pennywise is Older Than the Universe

You don’t slip into depression. It grabs you by the foot like Pennywise and drags you down a deep, dark sewer full of shit. Depression is never your fault. So don’t apologize for that.

With lively bluegrass music playing in the background, Nora started to arrange a table display designed to appeal to the festival attendees heading to the Balloon Fest, the Craft Beer Fest, or the Mountain Bike Fest. “Balloons, beer, and bikes? I’m picturing Pennywise getting a DUI at the X Games.

The rise of Marvel Studios over the past decade has been one of the most extraordinary stories in Hollywood history. Utilizing a crew of second-rate superheroes and run by a team of unproven executives, Marvel upended the industry’s conventional wisdom. Previously, almost everyone in Hollywood believed that the general public was interested only in marquee superheroes like Batman and Spider-Man, and nobody would see a movie about Ant-Man or the Guardians of the Galaxy; that the resources and experience of major studios gave them an unbeatable advantage over upstarts; that tightly managing budgets on would-be global “event” movies was penny-wise but pound-foolish; that tying together the plots of disparate films was too risky because if one failed, they all would; and that the only Hollywood brand name that meant anything to consumers was Disney.