Terri Joe Quotes

Terry was cool, cooler then Ig would ever be, but he was afraid. His fear narrowed his vision so that he couldn't see anything except what he stood to lose.

Terry is sure that Ig has never even kissed another girl, let alone fucked one, and he has wished for a while now that Iggy had more experience. Not because Terry didn't want his brother to be with Merrin, but because...well, because. Because love requires context. Because first relationships are by their very nature immature. So Merrin wanted them both to have a chance to grow up. So what?

But Terry doesn't touch her, won't touch her, never touches her. In a decade of knowing her, he has kept her at a friendly distance, even in his imagination, has never once considered allowing her into his sexual fantasies. There would be no harm in such a thing, yet he senses he would be placing something at risk all the same. What he would be placing at risk, he cannot say. To Terry the word "soul" first refers to a kind of music.

they had eaten at a place called Terry’s for lunch, Terry’s Primo Subs in Hampton, which was back in New Hampshire, on the sea.

... I've a thirst on me I wouldn't sell for half a crown. - Give it a name, citizen, says Joe. - Wine of the country, says he. - What's yours? says Joe. - Ditto MacAnaspey, says I. - Three pints, Terry, says Joe. And how's the old heart, citizen? says he.

Why don’t you hit Ig?” Terry whispered. “He’s the one checking out little redheads. Thinking lustful thoughts. He’s coveting. Look at him. You can see it on his face. Look at that coveting expression.” “Covetous,” Derrick said.

he seemed as right as rain when I saw him yesterday!” And that’s what Pete and Joe said, too. Right as rain! And then I got to thinking. “That’s how he was then,” I said. “What’s in your mind, Terry?” said Pete. “If he was fit as a fiddle one day, how come he was dead as a doornail the next?

Come on, she’s gorgeous. Guys in Richmond would be drooling right now.” Joe’s brows shot up, and he turned as if expecting to see someone new behind him. “Sid?” “You’d have to be a eunuch not to see that.” Joe looked insulted by that insinuation. “You know what I mean. Who is she anyway?” “She’s my boat mechanic. A pain in the ass, but she can fix anything you put in front of her.” Beth couldn’t respond. She’d need to lift her jaw off the floor to do that. “What?” Joe asked, looking perplexed again. “That is your boat mechanic? You work with a woman Hugh Hefner would pay a million bucks for, yet you claim not to notice she’s the slightest bit attractive?” Beth pulled the tray to her now inferior-feeling chest and wrapped her arms around it. “Is that why you’re so cranky all the time?” Joe’s mouth clamped shut and his eyes narrowed. “You’re out of your mind. Sid isn’t…” He trailed off as he looked again to the woman in question and got a straight shot of a well-shaped bottom. “You’re nuts,” he said, stomping out of the room. Before Beth could follow behind him, he leaned back in to yell, “And I’m not cranky!

Cuando Keri vio a Joe caminando hacia ella, con sus manos en sus bolsillos y sus hoyuelos visibles desde la luna, ni siquiera podía articular todas las cosas que quería decirle. Se conformo con-: Tú no me vas a hacer buscar garrapatas, Joseph Kowalski. -Demonios, nena, no vayas aplastando todas mis esperanzas en el primer día.- Era Keri la que se sentía como una idiota pero era Joe el que se estaba sonriendo como uno- Veo que encontraste a Terry. - No voy a montar uno de esos.- Señalo a los remolques de los vehículos todo terreno. -¿Vez ese nuevo rojo brillante? Ese es tuyo, nena. Y no me digas que ya olvidaste las reglas. Como si pudiera. Las Reglas habían sido entregadas a la casa de sus padres antes de que ella se hubiese levantado de la cama esa mañana.

I don't want revenge, Mandalay, I want Dwayne to be stopped. If he's not, somebody else will suffer like I am, like my parents and little brother are. And . . . " "And what?" "I think I'm the one who's supposed to stop him. It has to be me because I've killed people before. It won't change my song like it would my daddy's, or Aiden's, or Terry Joe's." "So you remembered what happened to you, then?" "No. I know what happened, and that's enough. If I remembered what happened, then the next time I tried to do it, it'd get all tangled up with those memories." She recalled the cliff-top conversation with Bliss. "The night wind's been preparing me for this, Mandalay. There's a need out there, and I can fill it. But it'll be on my terms." "And what're those?" Bronwyn smiled coldly. "Whatever I say they are." "And how's that different from how you used to be? The Bronwynator, doing whatever she wants?" "Maybe the 'how' ain't any different. But the 'why' is. You and the First Daughters wanted me back, didn't you? Now you've got me. And if it means you got the hum you wanted but the shiver's different, well, that's tough.

So in a different version of my life, I had a bicycle. My father gave it to me when I was a little girl. And I could use this bicycle to find lost things. I would ride it across an imaginary covered bridge, and the bridge would always take me wherever I needed to go. Like once my mother lost a bracelet and I rode my bike across this bridge and came out in New Hampshire, forty miles away from home. And the bracelet was there, in a restaurant called Terry’s Primo Subs. With me so far?” “Imaginary bridge, superpowered bike. Got it.” “Over the years I used my bicycle and the bridge to find all kinds of things. Missing stuffed animals or lost photos. Things like that. I didn’t go ‘finding’ often. Just once or twice a year. And as I got older, even less. It started to scare me, because I knew it was impossible, that the world isn’t supposed to work that way. When I was little, it was just pretend. But as I got older, it began to seem crazy. It began to frighten me.” “I’m surprised you didn’t use your special power to find someone who could tell you there was nothing wrong with you,” Lou said. Her eyes widened and lit with surprise, and Lou understood that in fact she had done just that. “How did you—” she began. “I read a lot of comics. It’s the logical next step,” Lou said. “Discover magic ring, seek out the Guardians of the Universe. Standard operating procedure. Who was it?” “The bridge took me to a librarian in Iowa.” “It would be a librarian.

from the late Joe Aldrich: “Only wounded soldiers can serve in God’s army.

Can you talk?” “Absolutely. What did you find out?” “I’m going to put you on speaker. Terry’s here.” The sound qual ity went from crisp to hollow when she put him on speaker. “Hey,

If Kara Allison did it, she did it. You start editing, you start picking and choosing because you don't like what the facts tell you, and you stop being a detective, become something else. If you want to become a private dick, find facts for money, then go there. But resign first. Because that's not what we do. We find, or we try to find, facts for truth. We don't always succeed or like what we find. And we don't always win. But it's an honorable calling. What you're thinking about doing is not." It was the longest speech he'd ever heard Kyle make. He got up. "Thanks, Terry." "I hope that helped." "Actually, it hurt. But it's what my mother would have called 'good pain.' That woman, rest her soul, believed in

This is due partially, I think, to the Democratic Party’s more or-less official response to its waning fortunes. The Democratic Leadership Council (DLC), the organization that produced such figures as Bill Clinton, Al Gore, Joe Lieberman, and Terry McAuliffe, has long been pushing the party to forget blue-collar voters and concentrate instead on recruiting affluent, white-collar professionals who are liberal on social issues.

Progress just means bad things happen faster.” Terry Pratchett

Terry liked fiction, so we had Joe Heller, Richard Price, Tom McGuane, Robert Stone, J. P. Donleavy, and Kurt Vonnegut writing for us. Terry was not a rock and roller; Terry liked hanging out at Elaine’s.

Maybe all interviewers aren’t trying to be Terry Gross, but maybe they are trying to be Joe Rogan, Ellen, Trevor Noah, Ryan Seacrest, Oprah, Howard Stern—or anyone else they admire and think they should emulate. But too often, interviewers try to play a role rather than simply be themselves.

I couldn't wait for my vote to help evict that ne'er-do-well scoundrel Donald Trump from the White House. He was easily the worst president in all the history of this great country. I am overjoyed that his attempted tyranny is at an end and can't wait to welcome our duly and fairly elected 46th president, Joseph R. Biden!

There’s also something called the modeling method. It’s a simple, but powerful technique. You ask yourself, ‘How would a confident leader respond to this situation?’ How would Terry Bradshaw, a four-time Super Bowl winner, respond to a turnover? How would Joe Montana respond to throwing a pick? How would Walter Payton respond to fumbling the football? “Keep a confident role model in your mind and then emulate what they would do. The more you try to act confident and self-assured, the more confident and self-assured you will be.

such figures as Bill Clinton, Al Gore, Joe Lieberman, and Terry McAuliffe, has long been pushing the party to forget blue-collar voters and concentrate instead on recruiting affluent, white-collar professionals who are liberal on social issues. The larger interests that the DLC wants desperately to court are corporations, capable of generating campaign contributions far outweighing anything raised by organized labor. The way to collect the votes and—more important—the money of these coveted constituencies, “New Democrats” think, is to stand rock-solid on, say, the pro-choice position while making endless concessions on economic issues, on welfare, NAFTA, Social Security, labor law, privatization, deregulation, and the rest of it. Such Democrats explicitly rule out what they deride as “class warfare” and take great pains to emphasize their friendliness to business interests. Like the conservatives, they take economic issues off the table. As for the working-class voters who were until recently the party’s very backbone, the DLC figures they will have nowhere else to go; Democrats will always be marginally better on economic issues than Republicans. Besides, what politician in this success-worshiping country really wants to be the voice of poor people? Where’s the soft money in that?