Saturn Girl Quotes

Well look who it is, Mr. Management-said-we-can't-have-girlfriends...and his girlfirend

The boy sat in my room for fifteen minutes last night working up the nerve to go downstairs and talk to you. Then he cam back and said 'We ate cookies. See you in the morning,' and went to his room. Give me something, Chloe.

I miss my girl already. See you soon firefly

I only asked you to move down the couch because I could smell your peach shampoo, and I wanted to be closer.

My wish is for you to be my firefly. After lockdown ends, we'll only see each other in moments, for short flickers of time.

You know, I've worked out that if I lived on Mercury I'd be sixty-six years old tomorrow. I'd be twenty-six on Venus, and half a year old on Saturn. I'm only sixteen because I'm on this planet.

I wrote a song for every day we didn'T talk

Where are your clothes? And do not pretend you do not know. I can accept that you may not know if you killed a man, but every girl always knows where her clothes are.

My body is not a temple. It’s a skip,

Lovers reeked of each other after they had exchanged body fluids & hormones in the union of love. But men who dined on a girl`s Nectar did not exchange body fluids & hormones with her. Thus, although she would not reek of them, they would reek of her. And that was the reason why everyone who had ever tasted Phyllis` Nectar had yearned for her, starting with her earliest lover of all, Saturn. Whilst Mars pined for her, he felt that he had also been humiliated & humbled by her in public. And so, there was a secret grudge, somewhere in his bosom. It was a strange feeling of love & hate & this explosive mixture within him, always drove him to war.[MMT]

Sitting with some of the other members of the Scholastic Decathlon team, quiet, studious Martha Cox heard snatches of the lunchtime poetry. Her ears instantly pricked up. "What's going on?" she asked, her eyes bright. Betty Hong closed her book and leaned close. "Taylor McKessie told me all about it," she whispered. Betty told Martha about next week's poetry-reading assembly and how Taylor was trying to help half the starting basketball team locate their muse. "That's totally fresh!" Martha cried. "Too bad I'm not in Ms Barrington's English class." Betty made a face. "You like poetry stuff? I thought you were into maths and science." "I like it all," Martha replied. "I love astronomy and hip-hop-" Betty rolled her eyes. "Not hip-hop again." "Word, girl," Martha replied. "You know I've been bustin' out kickin' rhymes for years. It helps me remember lessons, like last night's astronomy lecture." "No," Betty said. "You didn't make up a rap to that." "Just watch," Martha cried. Leaping out of her chair, she began to chant, freestyle: "At the centre of our system is the molten sun, A star that burns hot, Fahrenheit two billion and one. But the sun, he ain't alone in the heavenly sphere, He's got nine homeys in orbit, some far, some near. Old Mercury's crowding in 'bout as close as he can, Yo, Merc's a tiny planet who loves a tan.... Some kids around Martha heard her rap. They really got into it, jumping up from their tables to clap and dance. The beat was contagious. Martha started bustin' some moves herself. She kept the rap flowing, and more kids joined the party.... "Venus is next. She's a real hot planet, Shrouded by clouds, hot enough to melt granite. Earth is the third planet from the sun, Just enough light and heat to make living fun. Then comes Mars, a planet funky and red. Covered with sand, the place is pretty dead. Jupiter's huge! The largest planet of all! Saturn's big, too, but Uranus is small. So far away, the place is almost forgotten, Neptune's view of Earth is pretty rotten. And last but not least, Pluto's in a fog, Far away and named after Mickey's home dog. Yo, that's all the planets orbiting our sun, But the Milky Way galaxy is far from done!" When Martha finished her freestyle, hip-hop flow, the entire cafeteria burst into wild applause. Troy, Chad, Zeke, and Jason had been clapping and dancing, too. Now they joined in the whooping and hollering. "Whoa," said Chad. "Martha's awesome.

Bridget Jones can kiss my spotty arse.

My wish is for you to be my firefly,” I say. “After lockdown ends, we’ll only see each other in moments, for short flickers of time.” “And it’ll always make us smile,” Milo says.

Eventually, the sun will rise, I’ll have to bleed with my butterfly brothers, and the rest of the world will get to see my blue ink, not just you. But here’s the thing,” he says. “I may bleed every single day for the world, but I bleed the most for you.

If you were a butterfly, what color would you bleed?” I ask. He looks at me like I just asked him to pluck his eyeballs out. Then his face softens a bit. “Blue,” he answers. “And you, Ms. Branson?” I think about my own question for a moment. I don’t want to be typical and say my favorite color like he did. “Orange,” I say. He studies my face. “Why orange?” “Because blue burns orange,” I say. “I figure no two colors could ever be closer than those igniting a flame.

Uh oh. Here comes a scarf.

Can you faint from awesome boy scent?

And then there's the astrological deal, the Saturn return, when all the twenty-nine-year-old girls go nuts. That should be the rebirthing into adulthood, just after they recover from that at thirty.

She woke up thin. She loved it when that happened.

Enjoy the adventure, because that’s what it’s all about - the process, not the result. The ultimate result is death. The ultimate process is life. Fact.

She hated hairy bum holes. She couldn’t stand the thought of someone doing her from behind and being distracted by what looked like a spider trying to escape from her arsehole.

I hope there’s a boy and a girl on that planet right there—that’s Saturn; I think it’s Saturn—I hope there’re a boy and a girl looking at the fleck of light in their sky that they think is Earth, talking about how they hope there’s a boy and girl there talking about them.

At one particular moment, with my eyes closed, I was crying and asking the question over and over aloud, „Does true love exist? Does true love exist in girls? Does true love exist? Does Sabrina love me? Does true love exist? Does true love exist?” - I had suddenly seen a flash. As if I was poking the Devil in the dark, staring too long into the darkness until it looked back at me as they say. I have never told anyone about this before. I try to describe what I had seen that night in that windowless, dark, and cold place deep inside under that big, old building, with my eyes closed. It made a half turn, flashing one of its eyes at me for a moment before disappearing again into the dark. As if it was nodding to me, I still get goosebumps years later when I try to describe it. As if it had been standing there all along, and just tried to reassure me that it had heard my question and would answer. Quite close. Just to make me be quiet finally. His eyes were yellow and red. I'm not actually sure if it had two eyes; I only saw one of them. One Evil Eye. Perhaps he had lost an eye, that's why I had seen the light of only one of them. His eye was malicious, but not particularly. It was more tired and angry yet understanding, as if he had heard this question over a billion times before from fools like me and I did not amuse him with my question and demand. As if he was about to show me a trick he had known for a long time. As if Satan had seen it all already. He knows all the tricks, he invented them, he inspired them all. As if he was bored of humanity already. (There is only One Evil Eye. The planet Saturn.) I was cuddling with Adam's cat, crying a lot, asking the darkness, about Love, and reflecting on Sabrina. Perhaps it was merely an optical illusion. I leave it up to the reader to decide what they believe about what I was facing and how I miraculously survived, as an atheist goy, as well as who truly supported me throughout the ordeal. If anyone or anything supported me in Spain at all. I had seen an advertisement somewhere saying that Miss Kittin would be playing on Saturday night, November 16th, 2013 in Barcelona at The Marhes. Satan. Saturn. Saturday. Coincidence? Maybe. So far. Perhaps. I knew I had to see her again after such a long time; she had been playing drum and bass in the early 2000s across the globe, and also in Budapest. I checked the map; The Marhes was next to Camp Nou, the FC Barcelona stadium. I thought of buying a bottle of champagne, which I didn't like, unless it’s Italian, but I wanted to celebrate, and I would walk along Avenida Roma to get there straight. I knew I'd get drunk; I didn't want to drive, I wanted to arrive intoxicated. I re-posted the Miss Kittin party’s flyer, on Instagram, writing underneath it : ‘All roads lead to Rome.

What star did you say that was?” I ask the guide. “That’s Saturn,” he answers. “That’s Saturn?” I turn to look at him incredulously, then back into the telescope. “That’s Saturn. Saturn with the rings, Saturn the planet, Saturn the god, everything Saturn is, Saturn’s just right there?” “Please keep the line moving. A lot of people want to see Saturn.

She requests that the guys sing happy birthday to her, which works for us because no one wants to attempt to sing when you have professional musicians in the room with you.

Ceres, the port city of the Belt and the outer planets, boasted two hundred fifty kilometers in diameter, tens of thousands of kilometers of tunnels in layer on layer on layer. Spinning it up to 0.3 g had taken the best minds at Tycho Manufacturing half a generation, and they were still pretty smug about it. Now Ceres had more than six million permanent residents, and as many as a thousand ships docking in any given day meant upping the population to as high as seven million. Platinum, iron, and titanium from the Belt. Water from Saturn, vegetables and beef from the big mirror-fed greenhouses on Ganymede and Europa, organics from Earth and Mars. Power cells from Io, Helium-3 from the refineries on Rhea and Iapetus. A river of wealth and power unrivaled in human history came through Ceres. Where there was commerce on that level, there was also crime. Where there was crime, there were security forces to keep it in check. Men like Miller and Havelock, whose business it was to track the electric carts up the wide ramps, feel the false gravity of spin fall away beneath them, and ask low-rent glitz whores about what happened the night Bomie Chatterjee stopped collecting protection money for the Golden Bough Society. The primary station house for Star Helix Security, police force and military garrison for the Ceres Station, was on the third level from the asteroid’s skin, two kilometers square and dug into the rock so high Miller could walk from his desk up five levels without ever leaving the offices. Havelock turned in the cart while Miller went to his cubicle, downloaded the recording of their interview with the girl, and reran it. He was halfway through when his partner lumbered up behind him.