Ragdoll Quotes

when will you quit throwing me around like a ragdoll?

So tell me, if you’re the Devil, what does that make me?

Seven dead bodies and, so far, the only murder weapons are an inhaler, flowers and a fish.’ Simmons shook his head incredulously. ‘Remember the good old days when people had the decency to just walk up to someone and shoot the bastard?

That there are no “good” people. There are just those who haven’t been pushed far enough yet, and those that have.

I feel the stitches holding me together as though I am a rag doll with stuffing trying to leak out.

I mean, not what I would say to the man who just beat your friend with your other friend like he was a ragdoll. But live your best life, I guess.

Gobi finally also got to meet her sister Lara, a Ragdoll cat, for the first time and to start to become friends with this new strange-looking animal.

Limp as a ragdoll on the floor, time stands still. All I can think is that he's gone; my husband or soon-to-be ex-husband. There was so much more that still needed to be said. Now, I won't ever have that peace or that chance.

There were fat cats and skinny cats. The long-tailed and the bobbed. The daring young leapers, and the old windowsill sleepers. Balls of waddling fluff, smooth-coated prowlers, and hairless ones that looked fragile and wise. The tiger-striped, the ring-tailed, and the ones with matching coloured socks and mittens. There were tabbies and calicos. Manx and Persians. Siamese and Bombay. Ragdolls and Birmans. Maine Coons and Russian Blues. There were Snowshoes and Somalis, Tonkinese and Turkish, and many, many more. Brown and beige and orange and grey and black and white and silver cats, each with gleaming eyes of emerald, or sapphire, or amber. A rainbow of precious stones.

People who hate are boring. Love is where excitement lives.

I said I wasn’t your Prince Charming. You don’t enjoy being banged like a ragdoll because I pranced into your life. You didn’t discover hot sex just because I happen to exist. I don’t want you thinking of me as your savior. As someone you’re beholden to because now you know what you like. You told me what to do that night. You were just drunk enough to stop caring about what I would think of you.

[...] over the years I’ve seen so many otherwise “good” people doing horrible things to each other – husbands strangling cheating wives, brothers protecting sisters from abusive partners. In the end you realise …’ ‘Realise what?’ ‘That there are no “good” people. There are just those who haven’t been pushed far enough yet, and those that have.

At the crisp, inky hour of midnight, Jack and I are married atop Spiral Hill in the Death Door's Cemetery. Wind stirs the bone-dry leaves, and Jack takes my soft rag doll hands in his--the coolness of his fingers calming the flutter rippling across my stitched seams.

You’re a ragdoll, Willa Knight.” Now, he was smiling. And it wasn’t a nice smile. “Your head is filled with straw and you flop around like you have no actual bones.

attack caused her body to fly through the air like a ragdoll. She landed far

He kisses me again, folding me in his arms--the place I want to stay for a thousand years. When I first discovered Dream Town, I wasn't sure where I belonged, where my true home was. But now I know. Sometimes home is a town, a house with four walls. Other times, it's two hollow eyes in a skull, a skeleton without a heartbeat. It's here---not in Dream Town or Halloween Town---but in Jack's arms. Folded against this hollow, skeleton chest is where I belong. I let the tears stream down my face, I let them bind us together, salt and water and fabric and bone. Woven parts of ourselves that become one.

He was the epitome of a scruffy prison guard, and now he was the epitome of a scruffy prison guard who was flying through the air like a ragdoll with a face that was even less handsome than before – and he’d not been good looking by any measure whatsoever.

It feels like a fairy tale from one of those happily-ever-after books where the princess storms the castle, slays a goblin-dragon, and takes over the kingdom for herself. Except I am not golden-haired or fine-boned. I have no bones at all. I am a rag doll who married a skeleton king. A rag doll who woke from the impossible daydream and found herself in her own heroine story--a tale whose ending hasn't yet been written; but instead, is only just the beginning.

Perhaps ‘normal’ people had more control over their emotions. Perhaps what he considered normal, in fact, wasn’t.

Any coward can fight a battle when he’s sure of winning; but give me the man who has pluck to fight when he’s sure of losing”,

Maybe, maybe, I can be both, too. A rag doll and a Pumpkin Queen. In control of her own life, her own royal title. A queen who doesn't allow the sovereignty to overshadow the rag doll she's always been.

Don't bother pulling my string again- Not behind those doll eyes anymore I won't say what's expected, kid, laugh at your tantrum on the floor I'm just not looking at you, kid, I'm not a piss-poor heart anymore; Not going home with the lowest bid Out of stock- your projection whore I'm never going back to the toy box Elevated up from the cellar- home of the wish-washed pretty cocks Out of the dark, preachin' Helen Keller Bored with the coin-operated allure I'm top shelf, kid, out of your reach You can't afford to walk in the store Turn around, kid, don't slip in bleach -from 'Ragdoll$ & Riche$

You're the only rag dolls I've seen in Dream Town," I comment, seeing myself reflected back in the features of their faces--something I've never known until now. The seams of Albert's mouth lift into a half smile. "There are a few others. Rag dolls like us, and also several Teddy Bears and Floppy-Eared Rabbits. They are all sleep-weavers, but they spend most of their time in the human world, helping lull children to sleep.

I pull out the blue spool of thread and the sharp needle I always keep in the left pocket of my dress--because old seams have a way of popping, thread unspooling, and you never know when you'll need it--and begin stitching my arm back into place. It takes longer than usual; some of the linen has begun to fray along the seam, and I need to gather a few spare dead leaves from the graveyard to fill my shoulder socket all the way. It's a ghastly thing to lose an arm--or any part of yourself, really--to feel disconnected from your body. Not quite whole. And I've always wished Dr. Finkelstein had stuffed my insides with something other than dried, shriveled leaves, tossed aside by the trees. Cotton perhaps, or rose petals. Something silken and ladylike.

Officer Brown being the dick he was didn’t give a damn about how she felt as he forcefully dragged her behind him like a ragdoll.

It had been bound to happen. If anything, technology created a space for the strange and the afraid. Some would argue that the environment had created those people, but I doubted that. Those who flocked to technology as a place to hide and to fit in would have found something else, but instead they found another life.

Kiek kartų žmogus turi pasielgti "visiškai jam nebūdingai", kad kiti galiausiai suvoktų, jog tai nėra jam taip jau nebūdinga?

Jane Says" Jane says I'm done with Sergio He treat me like a rag-doll She hides The television Says I don't owe him nothing, But if he come back again Tell him, wait right here for me Or Try again tomorrow I'm gonna kick tomorrow I'm gonna kick tomorrow She get mad and she start to cry She take a swing man She can't hit She don't mean no harm She just don't know (Don't know, don't know) What else to do about it Jane says Have you seen my wig around? I feel naked without it She knows They all want her to go But that's O.K. man She don't like them anyway Jane says I'm going away to Spain When I get my money saved I'm gonna start tomorrow I'm gonna kick tomorrow I'm gonna kick tomorrow Jane goes To the store at 8:00 She walks up on St. Andrew's She waits And gets her dinner there She pulls her dinner From her pocket Jane says I ain't never been in love I don't know what it is She only knows if someone wants her I wonder if they want me I only know they want me She gets mad And she starts to cry She takes a swing man She can't hit! She don't mean no harm She just don't know (Don't know, don't know) What else to do about it Jane says Jane says Jane's Addiction, Jane's Addiction (1987)

giant, long-haired Himalayan Ragdoll cat, Yul Brynner,

É um jogo engraçado, a política. Você quer melhorar as coisas pra população em geral, mas só pode fazer algo se estiver no poder. Acontece que ninguém permanece no poder sem votos e, para obter os votos necessários, você precisa fazer concessões à vontade pública. Mas aí, ao fazer essas concessões, muitas vezes você é obrigado a abrir mão justamente daquelas melhorias que queria fazer desde o início. É um jogo engraçado, a política.

Na certeza de vencer, qualquer covarde pode se jogar numa batalha; comigo quero apenas os que têm a coragem de lutar quando sabem que vão perder.

Cade bursts through the back door, stalking straight into the kitchen, looking like some sort of avenging cowboy, angry and wearing black, the sun shining in from behind him. “Why are the boys in the bunkhouse talkin’ about you getting rag-dolled by a fuckin’ bull last night?

I'm fucking sick and tired of you dicks thinking you can just grab me and throw me around like a goddamn ragdoll! You think just because I fucked you that I belong to you? Well, I don't. I belong to no one but myself. So, you can go fuck off for all I care.

She didn't know where these visions came from or why they would come. Perhaps it was a side effect of whatever process Dr. Finkelstein had used to bring her to life. Or maybe the old brain he'd stuffed in her head had been psychic when it belonged to its person. Or maybe it was just a rag doll thing; she had no other doll friends to compare to, so she couldn't be sure. But while she didn't know why the visions came and she couldn't predict when they would come, she was sure of one thing. They were usually trying to tell her something. Something important. And she needed to pay attention.

After stepping out of bed, she got dressed, slipping on her new patchwork dress and enjoying the feel of the soft cotton against her cloth skin. She'd sewed it together out of fabric she'd found in the dumpster--- the remnants of old and discarded costumes--- and was pretty proud of how it had come out. Christmas clothing was cute and all, but Abigail had been right--- it was extremely itchy. Not to mention a little boring. No dress should be limited to just one pattern or color, she thought with a smile. Which was why her new shop's name was so perfect: Patterns and Potions by Sally.

I mean, could you imagine? Some little girl waking up on Christmas morning to find you under her tree? She'd probably run away screaming in fright." "Well, I should certainly hope so," Sally agreed, a little confused. For what could be better than that?

And then there were their dresses. Fancy cotton confections of candy-colored frills and bows, with puffed sleeves and ribbon sashes. Sally had never seen such dresses before, and for a moment, she felt a little inadequate when she gazed down at her own homemade ensemble, rather plain in comparison. But then, she'd made this dress herself, she thought. And who was to say she couldn't make one of theirs, too, if she just gave it a try? In fact, if she could find the right material, she was almost positive she could re-create one of these ensembles back in Halloween Town, adding her own special Sally touches, of course. For example, their sashes were practically screaming to be replaced by proper spiderwebs. And a few slashes with a serrated knife would give the puffed sleeves a lovely shredded flair. Her mouth curled as she imagined herself walking past the fountain in her hometown square, sashaying in a swish of silk and spiders. Halloween Town wouldn't know what hit them! And what if, her mind whirred, others wanted a dress like this, too? She could take orders. Charge money. Maybe even eventually open her own shop. Support herself so she would no longer be reliant on Dr. Finkelstein. She gasped at the idea. This could change everything! Feeling almost giddy, she studied the dolls' dresses, taking the time to memorize every detail while happily munching on her sugarplums. Christmas Town was truly amazing, she decided. Even if it was very different from home. And while she'd always be a fan of the grim and gruesome, she saw now that fun and festive was actually pretty great, too.

In the meantime, you should head home. People have seen you with us now. And if we go down, I don't want to take you with us." Tammy looked at her for a moment, then gave a grudging snort. "You're a brave toy," she said. "I'll give you that." She paused, then added, "Just be careful, all right? A lot of people underestimate Christmas Town. But nightmares can lie in the dreamiest of places." "Well, that's good," Sally declared, flashing Jack a look. "Because it just so happens we have a lot of experience with nightmares.

No!” I shout, plead, beg. Dean falls across my lap like a ragdoll, and I feel myself being lifted from the seat and yanked through the window as shards of glass tear my dress and skin. “Let me go!” A thick palm that smells like gasoline clamps over my mouth, stifling my cries, and when I glance up, my eyes widen. It’s him. The John Wayne Gacy look-a-like from outside the bar. No.

listening to the opening tunes of Bel Biv DeVoe’s Do Me and side-stepping the paperboy as he biked past her, hurling a rolled paper onto her neighbor’s porch.  By the time it had switched over to Aerosmith’s Ragdoll, Judy was on her way to the park. 

Goodbye Damini" (A Tribute to Jyoti Panday) Once I was a little Girl Once i could freely swim through the air I could laugh , i could play I was all bright colors in array But one dark night Wolves played with my plight Tore me inside out And burnt me with their hateful sight I screamed, I yelled, I cried, I plead For hours that I couldn't breath From the pain I couldn't bear From the pain I wanted to share There were many to watch There were many to see But was none there Who cared to help but not stare I was just another object I was just another soul Once I was a woman Next, another ragdoll Today I gasped, Today I choked I wanted to stay strong but then I broke I hugged myself, consoled my own pride Now life deceives me and so does the prayer Goodbye honor, so long morality I take my leave now, don't worry I am fine I was in pain but now i'm at ease Today I died world, hope you rest in peace.

How could someone disappear like that? And what’s with him throwing Eddie around like a rag-doll? He was in good shape, of course, but I didn’t understand how he could be so strong. Talk about the power of adrenaline.

The demon began to bubble and melt into a big pile of ooze. Rafe looked confused, but he was staring at her, not the demon. “I saw you stick your fingers in its eye,” she said and ran her hands down her chest and legs, squeezing some of the slime out of her clothes. “That was disgusting.” He smiled and shrugged. “It was the only weapon at my disposal, and it weakened it enough for you to kill it.” Shannon frowned. “What do you mean by that? That I couldn’t kill it without your help?” He shrugged easily again. “I could have killed it... although, your distracting it by letting it play with you like a ragdoll was appreciated.” She smiled and then it fell away when she caught a flashback of how violently the demon had tossed Rafe around. “You okay?” He

Hey, fine. Give him hell, girl,’ she says, ruffling Ellie’s hair and smiling at me. Ellie’s still not happy. I don’t blame her. I’m a grown adult and I can’t handle being up at this time. As Ellie’s wails begin to build, Tasha takes the Rosie Ragdoll down from on top of the kitchen clock and hands it to her. Ellie stops crying immediately.

Never underestimate the power of public opinion and the eagerness of the people in charge to bow to it.

There is a difference between corruption and desperation.

You watch the man that you were charged to protect die in front of your eyes and then the person responsible announces their intention to murder you in just a fortnight’s time, and all you can muster up for me is that you are feeling “bad” and “sad”?’ ‘Mad?’ tried Wolf, having believed that he was doing well.

My grandpa used to say: “A man without enemies is a man without principals.”’ ‘Wise words,’ nodded Wolf. He felt exhausted by their fleeting exchange. ‘But I’m guessing advice like that is also the reason you’re in here.’ ‘Nah. I choose to be in here, don’t I?’ ‘Is that right?’ ‘As long as I’m in here, I’m alive.’ ‘“A man without enemies …”’ Wolf recited thoughtfully. ‘Ain’t got no enemies left, Detective …’ said Joel, turning his back to Wolf and walking away, ‘… that’s the problem.

It was like a game without an end. Inside each of the tens of thousands of identical cardboard boxes lay a puzzle waiting to be verified, or perhaps even solved for the very first time. It was easier to focus upon the challenge that they posed to him rather than the distressing realisation that each and every one of the uniform boxes represented a life lost, lives ruined, all lined up in a tidy row and enjoying the respectful silence like graves in a catacomb.

I mean, not what I would say to the man who just beat your friend with your other friend like he was a ragdoll.

On the night of All Hallow's Eve party, I sew my own black gown using the Witch Sisters' chiffon fabric, and a crown made of forged iron and dove feathers from Valentine's Town. I stand at the mirror, pressing down the silky fabric along my ribs, still feeling like myself--like a rag doll, who is also a queen. Instinctively, I tug at the thread on my wrist, but beneath the seam, I feel the softness of cotton, not the crunch of dead leaves. When I was born, my insides were filled with air-puffed cotton--Dream Town cotton. But when Dr. Finkelstein kidnapped me, he replaced the cotton with dead leaves; he wanted no reminders of where I was really from. But now I have filled myself with both: cotton and dead leaves. Because although I am the queen of Halloween Town, I am also a daughter of Dream Town. Made of nightmares and dreams. A little of both.

Dragons, the Wicked One, capricious spirits... It seemed like I was getting tossed around like a ragdoll. The blessings felt like a curse in disguise. I was receiving them for a reason, but in reality I found them extremely binding, like I was slowly losing any agency in my own life.

Curvy women around the world, get yourselves some men who can toss you around like a ragdoll. Hottest shit ever.

Julianne looked down at the tattered ragdoll at her feet. It was splattered with mud and missing one of its little button eyes. She bent down and gently picked it up. She cradled it in her hand and wondered what had happened to its owner.

My dreams are disjointed. I try finding the beach and Luka, but I can’t. Instead, I end up back at the hospital. Not Pete’s, but Shady Wood, staring at rows upon rows of comatose bodies. I’m not sure if the machines are keeping them alive or keeping them from living. I want to unhook them. I want to set them free from this dark, oppressive place. But when I try, nothing is solid. It’s all vapor. When I wake up, I write everything down, then spend the rest of Sunday visiting Pete, yearning—no aching—for Luka. That night, my dreams are the same. Me, trying to get to Luka but ending up at Shady Wood instead. Me, trying to free those people. Me, failing at both. I’m happy and relieved when I wake up. It’s Monday morning, which means school. While my parents will go to many lengths to keep me from Luka, robbing me of my right to an education is not one of them. I pray that Luka’s parents are the same. Mom drives. As soon as she pulls up to the front entrance, I fling open the door and hurry toward the school, brushing off the looks and the whispers. As soon as I step inside the building, Luka is there. He grabs my face between his hands and kisses me. Full on the mouth. The shock of his lips on mine turns my kneecaps to putty. Luka is kissing me. He’s kissing me, right there in the locker bay in front of everyone. And I’m so stunned by it all, so caught off guard, that my body has morphed into a ragdoll. A really hot, tingly ragdoll. When he pulls away, my head spins. My lips throb in the best possible way. Several students gape. He takes my hand and pulls me out of the locker bay, right outside the bathrooms, a space that is relatively empty. “You have no idea how good it is to see you.” I blink like an idiot, unable to get past his greeting. He pushes his hand through his hair. “I couldn’t get to you in my dreams. I could hear you calling out for help. But I couldn’t get to you.” I point toward the locker bay, dumbstruck. “You-you just kissed me.” A grin pulls at his lips—the very lips that were on mine seconds earlier. And then he does it again. He cups the side of my face and kisses me. His fingers move up into my hair. His other hand moves to my waist, pulling me closer. I grab onto his shirt front to keep myself upright. Luka is good at this. Much, much too good. But the kiss ends as abruptly as it began. He groans and leans against the wall. My head spins. I’ve never been kissed by a boy before. I don’t really know how these things work, but I have to imagine groaning is not a good reaction. I must be bad at it.

Well," Martha started slowly. "Those fucker Fairies tried to take the baby. We love that wild little thing more than our own lives so Jane here bit the son of a bitch so hard in the ass that her fangs got stuck. He tried to shake her off, but she didn't budge. You should have seen it. That asshat was twerking he was in so much pain. Jane was flopping around like a ragdoll, but she wasn't gonna let go for nothing. I have false teeth so that wouldn't have worked out for me.

I rolled my eyes. “I mean, not what I would say to the man who just beat your friend with your other friend like he was a ragdoll. But live your best life, I guess.

ragdoll.

It was the sheep that first came into view. Skinny things freshly shorn, skipping away from her trotting horse like children's ragdolls tumbling over the green hills.

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There was one time, only one, where I had tried to escape from Earl and fight him off. There was a small window of opportunity where I actually had a chance to run; a surge of adrenaline and desperation insisted I try, so I did. Earl’s grimy hand seized the upper part of my arm and he was able to pin me back down on the bed like a ragdoll. Jason couldn’t have known that, but I was past any form of rational thinking at that point.