Scary Terry Quotes

A horse's skull always looks scary, even if someone has put lipstick on it.

Ohhh, OH no you didn't!" he screams. "Nobody touches the TERRY!" Then he starts punching himself in he face. This kid really is crazy! I may not even have to fight him. He's doing it for me, and I'm winning!

Look, this is just the cemetery. It's got bylaws and things! It's not Transylvania! There's just dead people here! That doesn't make it scary, does it? Dead people are people who were living once! You wouldn't be so worked up if there were living people buried here, would you?

You did too! You stole my bike, A-HOLE!" I yell out. Jeez, I'm like a Chatty Cathy Doll: just pull my string and I'll say, "You stole my bike, A-HOLE!

76. Two men, one heart – one widow?! It was over the news around the end of 2010s – a man called Sonny Graham, 57 at the time, had received a heart transplantation which saved his life. The heart had belonged to Terry Cottle, an adopted father of two, and a husband of a woman named Cheryl, who had taken his life at the age of 33. Here is where things got creepy. Mr. Graham suddenly changed some of his life habits, including his food and drink preferences, which now strangely matched Mr. Cottle's. On top of that – he fell in love with Cheryl, Mr. Cottle's widow. Soon after, they married. However, there was no happy ending to this story. 13 years later, Sonny Graham, who had previously never displayed any signs of mental or emotional instability, took his life as well – in much the same way as late mr. Cottle did. So who says our brain is our only thing responsible for our thoughts and emotions?

I hate to agree with her,” Terry said, keeping his voice low. “You took me to a scary visual place there.

They’re not scary when they’re ready to go to heaven, are they?” Maggie said. “No, they’re not,” Mary agreed. “They’re all cleaned up and ready to go home.

It’s not the dead people you got to worry about… It’s the living that are scary.

Preventing Separation Anxiety We wish our dogs could be with us all day, every day, but it’s not possible, and puppies do need to learn to spend time alone. A dog who can never be left home alone without destroying the house may be suffering from separation anxiety. Teach your Lab to feel safe and comfortable at home alone while she’s still a puppy, even if you’re home all day. Your life or job situation may change someday, and you’re heading off future trauma by teaching this lesson now, when she is young. Your puppy’s not yet mature enough to have the run of an entire house or yard, so confine her in her crate or pen when you’re gone. What you might think is separation anxiety might really be simple puppy mischief. When you’re not there to supervise, she’s free to indulge her curiosity and entertain herself in doggie ways. She knows she can’t dump the trash and eat the kitty litter in front of you, but when you’re gone, she makes her own rules. Teach your puppy not to rely on your constant attention every minute you’re at home. Set up her crate, pen, or wherever she can stay when you’re gone, and practice leaving her in it for short rests during the day. She’ll learn to feel safe there, chewing on her toy and listening to household noises. She’ll also realize that being in her pen doesn’t always mean she’s going to be left for long periods. Deafening quiet could unnerve your puppy, so when you leave, turn on the radio or television so the house still has signs of activities she’d hear when you’re home. Background noise also blocks out scary sounds from outdoors, so she won’t react to unknown terrors. HAPPY PUPPY Exercise your puppy before you leave her alone at home. Take her for a walk, practice obedience, or play a game. Then give her a chance to settle down and relax so she won’t still be excited when you put her in her pen. She’ll quickly learn that the rustle of keys followed by you picking up your briefcase or purse, getting your jacket out of the closet, or picking up your books all mean one awful thing: you’re going, and she’s staying. While you’re teaching her to spend time alone, occasionally go through your leaving routine without actually leaving. Pick everything up, fiddle with it so she can see you’re doing so, put it all back down, and go back to what you were doing. Don’t make a fuss over your puppy when you come and go. Put her in her pen and do something else for a few minutes before you leave. Then just leave. Big good-byes and lots of farewell petting just rev her up and upset her. When you come home, ignore her while you put down your things and get settled. Then greet her calmly and take her outside for a break.

Cassie was not a screamer! She didn't scream at football games or on rollercoaster rides or at scary horror movies. Not that rollercoaster rides and scary movies didn't make her want to. But she just controlled the urge. Always. So she didn't even realize that was her screaming at the top of her lungs for a second or two.

Taking a risk, trying something scary or new or something with very high stakes, is not about prioritizing discomfort, however; it’s about commitment—committing to expanding your comfort zone so that you remain inside it.

Families change when a parent dies, and not always how you'd expect. Sometimes they turn brittle, splintering off into dark places, like a pencil stuck too far in the sharpener. Sometimes they just get quiet. Their conversations float on the surface, never venturing into the deeper waters to reach the fears and gray questions that keep each one of them awake in the dead of night, eyes wide open in the darkness of their separate rooms lined up along the same hallway. Little things that don't matter become stand-ins for things that do. It's just easier, I suppose, to be angry over who got the gooseneck rocker when Aunt Jo died that it is to admit you're scared because you don't know why Aunt Jo had to die in the first place. She was only forty-six years old. But you don't realize this when you're young. You just think adults don't talk about things because they're not really important, or maybe they don't think you'll understand. So you start to push the scary questions away, deep down inside yourself. It's not until you're older that it dawns on you that adults are afraid to ask the questions themselves.

No , Ariel, that doesn't scare me. Not anymore. You taught me that love doesn't have to be a risk. It doesn't have to be scary. Love can be beautiful.

To be named is to submit. My name is the vastness of the waters of chaos. My name is the height of the Tree of All Seeds. My name is the cosmic mountain that reaches out of this sphere and into the next. A pause, then: That is to say, should you wish to bestow upon me a name of your choice, I will accept it as a proxy.