Toe Beans Quotes

DADDY You do not do, you do not do Any more, black shoe In which I have lived like a foot For thirty years, poor and white, Barely daring to breathe or Achoo. Daddy, I have had to kill you. You died before I had time― Marble-heavy, a bag full of God, Ghastly statue with one grey toe Big as a Frisco seal And a head in the freakish Atlantic When it pours bean green over blue In the waters of beautiful Nauset. I used to pray to recover you. Ach, du. In the German tongue, in the Polish town Scraped flat by the roller Of wars, wars, wars. But the name of the town is common. My Polack friend Says there are a dozen or two. So I never could tell where you Put your foot, your root, I never could talk to you. The tongue stuck in my jaw. It stuck in a barb wire snare. Ich, ich, ich, ich, I could hardly speak. I thought every German was you. And the language obscene An engine, an engine Chuffing me off like a Jew. A Jew to Dachau, Auschwitz, Belsen. I began to talk like a Jew. I think I may well be a Jew. The snows of the Tyrol, the clear beer of Vienna Are not very pure or true. With my gypsy ancestress and my weird luck And my Taroc pack and my Taroc pack I may be a bit of a Jew. I have always been scared of you, With your Luftwaffe, your gobbledygoo. And your neat mustache And your Aryan eye, bright blue. Panzer-man, panzer-man, O You― Not God but a swastika So black no sky could squeak through. Every woman adores a Fascist, The boot in the face, the brute Brute heart of a brute like you. You stand at the blackboard, daddy, In the picture I have of you, A cleft in your chin instead of your foot But no less a devil for that, no not And less the black man who Bit my pretty red heart in two. I was ten when they buried you. At twenty I tried to die And get back, back, back to you. I thought even the bones would do. But they pulled me out of the sack, And they stuck me together with glue. And then I knew what to do. I made a model of you, A man in black with a Meinkampf look And a love of the rack and the screw. And I said I do, I do. So daddy, I’m finally through. The black telephone’s off at the root, The voices just can’t worm through. If I’ve killed one man, I’ve killed two― The vampire who said he was you And drank my blood for a year, Seven years, if you want to know. Daddy, you can lie back now. There’s a stake in your fat black heart And the villagers never like you. They are dancing and stamping on you. They always knew it was you. Daddy, daddy, you bastard, I’m through.

6 Reasons Why You Should Be A Cat: 1) Free Food. 2) Free Rent. 3) Sleep As Long As You Want. 4) Look Great With No Effort. 5) Toes Look Like Beans. 6) License to Kill!

Okay," said Harry, staring at it, "Pear Drop. Er – Licorice Wand. Fizzing Whizbee. Drooble's Best Blowing Gum. Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans… oh no, he doesn't like them, does he?… oh just open, can't you?" He said angrily. "I really need to see him, it's urgent!" The gargoyle remained immovable. Harry kicked it, achieving nothing but an excruciating pain in his big toe. "Chocolate frog!" he yelled angrily, standing on one leg. "Sugar Quill! Cockroach Cluster! The gargoyle sprang to life and jumped aside. Harry blinked.

All lies, freckled vows, crying-weeping on your toes Expected jelly beans gusto, got yourself a life imperfecto Too good a gal, too arrogant a gal Too independent, too in need of Chanel Took a careless ride, leaped for a perilous dive Now look who thrived, who gave you a vibe. - Chicken In Chicken Out

Lemon drop?” he tried tentatively. The gargoyle did not move. “Okay,” said Harry, staring at it, “Pear Drop. Er — Licorice Wand. Fizzing Whizbee. Drooble’s Best Blowing Gum. Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans . . . oh no, he doesn’t like them, does he? . . . oh just open, can’t you?” he said angrily. “I really need to see him, it’s urgent!” The gargoyle remained immovable. Harry kicked it, achieving nothing but an excruciating pain in his big toe. “Chocolate Frog!” he yelled angrily, standing on one leg. “Sugar Quill! Cockroach Cluster!” The gargoyle sprang to life and jumped aside. Harry blinked. “Cockroach Cluster?” he said, amazed. “I was only joking. . . .” He hurried through the gap in the walls and stepped onto the foot of a spiral stone staircase, which moved slowly upward as the doors closed behind him, taking him up to a polished oak door with a brass door knocker.

It was a book that started all the trouble. “Read, read, read! That’s all grown-ups ever say to me,” said Bean, “but when I finally do read, I get in trouble.” She slumped in her chair. “And then the grown-ups take the book away.” Ivy nodded. “It’s totally not fair,” she agreed. “And they shouldn’t blame us anyway. It’s all Grandma’s fault.” Ivy’s grandma had sent her the book. It was called The Royal Book of the Ballet. Each chapter told the story of a different ballet, with pictures of fancy girls in feathery tutus and satin toe shoes. Bean was at Ivy’s house on the day it arrived. They were supposed to be subtracting, but

Bean the Wili chased Mrs. Noble around the house, waggling her fingernails and screaming. Finally, when they were both laughing so hard they couldn’t dance any more, they rushed into the kitchen and fell over on the floor. “Well, look who’s here,” said Ivy’s mom. She was making dinner. “Mom,” Ivy said when she got her breath back, “I have to take ballet class.” Ivy’s mom stirred something into something else. “You had to take ice-skating, too.” Ivy wiggled her toes. “Yeah, but that was a mistake.” “How do you know ballet isn’t a mistake, too? Those skates were expensive.” “Ballet is different,” Ivy explained. “Ballet isn’t freezing and dumb. Ballet is pretty. And it’s good for you.

they were tired of that so they ripped open the package and sat down side by side on Ivy’s couch to look at The Royal Book of the Ballet. “I heard that sometimes their toes bleed when they’re dancing,” said Bean. “The blood leaks right through the satin part.” “That’s gross,” said Ivy, turning the pages. Suddenly she stopped. “Whoa, Nellie,” murmured Bean, staring. “Is she kicking his head off?” asked Ivy in a whisper. “That’s what it looks like,” said Bean. “What’s this one called, anyway?” Ivy flipped back a few pages. “Giselle,” she said, reading quickly. “It’s about a girl named Giselle who, um, dances with this duke guy, but he’s going to marry a princess, not Giselle, so she takes his sword and stabs herself.” Ivy and Bean found the picture of that.

Ew,” said Bean. “But interesting.” “Yeah, and then she turns into a ghost with all these other girls. They’re called the Wilis.” The picture showed a troop of beautiful women dressed in white. They had very long fingernails. “And then,” Ivy read on, “the duke goes to see Giselle’s grave, and she comes out with the Wilis, and they decide to dance him to death.” Ivy stared at the picture. “To death.” Bean leaned over for a closer look. It was pretty amazing. Giselle’s pointed toe had snapped the duke’s head up so that his chin pointed straight up to the sky. It would fall off in a moment. The Wilis stood in a circle, waving their long fingernails admiringly. Bean lifted the page, wishing that she could see more of the picture, but there was no more. There never was. “Wow,” she said,

Jelly Bean Toes Preparation and Instructions: This is a wonderful game to play while taking off children’s shoes and socks. Sit with the child comfortably in front of you or in a chair. The Game: Grasp one of the child’s feet and begin to feel around inside the shoe. As you come to the toes, say, “I think there are jelly beans in here. I love jelly beans. Yum, Yum!” Proceed to take off the child’s shoes while you continue to talk about jelly beans and how you can’t wait to see them, taste them, and so on. After you get the shoes off, continue the same process with the socks. You may say, “Now I know they are jelly beans. But wait, they are moving. Maybe they are jumping beans instead of jelly beans.” Be sure your facial expressions are exaggerated. Pull off the socks and say with surprise and delight, “Well, they are toes! Wonderful, beautiful, perfect toes!” Pretend to nibble the “jelly beans.” Many children have sand or dirt in their shoes. You may use this time to brush and clean the feet. Yes and No Game Preparation and Instructions: This is a wonderful game to play with a child who is a bit grumpy.

Into its pinched streets, the fish-sellers told me, cars from Kolkata arrive daily, sent by government officials or corporate executives just to buy the best of the day's catch. The daily market is the town's centerpiece. For streets together, cereal-sellers sit surrounded by sacks of six or eight types of cereals; fisherwomen with toes reddened by fish blood squat behind cutters, little steel tubs of still-swimming catfish, and turmeric-smeared cuts of fish; on blue tarpaulins, vegetable-sellers arrange potatoes, gourds, red onions, beans both broad and French, big and little aubergines, pumpkins and huge heads of cabbage.

Almost like a waterfall gushing in-between my legs at this moment at this time. Kissing, loving, and creasing me like, as my mud-covered toes, as I sink them in the dirt. My legs are so weakly holding me upright, after standing so long.' 'Ultimately, the pounding rains get more powerful. Making me fall to the ground with a soft thud, now covered by the clay. Where I will remain until I feel that I can get up and over what has transpired from the day of hell I had and what has happened to me. That's if I can, like if I can accept this all, as I look down at me. I feel the dropping rain is weeping for me, like 'God’s tears, even after this I still believe in.' 'The pain triples within me also like the thoughts all at the same time, I start rolling around, like a pig in mud. I have the sensation like I have been ripped in two parts in my centered hips and vagina.' 'However, it is like it is all pounding down on me at once. I look, up to the sky, lying on my backside. It jostles me, the thought of what it is that I want to do… with myself to escape.' 'Even with all this rain. I feel that my vagina will surely never feel the same, or like it's clean again. It's all because of them!' 'No!' I scream. 'The rainwater can only wash away somewhat of what they have done to me. Never all of it… never- ever! It cannot wash away all my fears that I have. They have sucked my bean above the hole! Tugged on the hood, until I thought they would bite it off me completely. That is why I'm bleeding! Nevertheless, the school would not do anything about this, over I was the one that started it all; as the instigator.' 'They rubbed and touched me in all the places, yet this one the most. They ripped my black hole wide open, with their hateful fingernails and slashing teeth.' 'I cannot run away from them. They always find me! Always, I have nowhere to run or to hide!' 'I cannot stop them from fingering, stabbing, and sucking on me! My nipples are raw! They beat me up for enjoyment. Pledging with 'God' saying this has to stop. Yet it goes on every school day.' 'I must get away from them. I need to getaway! ('I just need to okay!') It is like these visions of what my life's existence about comes and goes away from me.' I see my life before I live it out in its entirety.' 'Sometimes, it's like I am black, I am not biased, bigoted, discriminatory, prejudiced, antiblack, and racialist, let's get that clear; yet this is the category, I was placed in, as a girl owned by man, that think I should never do anything more than be something like a worker in a field, as a slave to pay back my debts to be who I am to them in their hate.' 'The air that is around me now, is making my slit labia skin hurt with burn and sting. Burning hotter than a flame, before snuffed out! I know how a candle feels, struggling not to be blown out by the rushing air, or being snuffed out.' 'It's like they have a new addiction and that is the hole in my body that makes me a lady.' 'Just if you are wondering, I put my teddy in my backpack right after getting off the bus, after getting hazed by having him. after all, he is very significant to me.' 'I walk over to my bookbag, and see him down in their look at me, and find my one pink notebook. I open it to that one page I penned, the one that I have dogeared. 'There it is!' I say as I rip it out, it recollects the day.' 'The paper is jagged and wet, but I have an adieu note in my hand. I made it earlier in school, at lunch, when I was sitting alone; on this wrinkled up pink notebook paper. The black ink is running like a watercolor all over all my trembling, quivering, shivering, and childlike penmanship handwriting. All it has on it are all words that need to be said, about my existence in life, not living! Decidedly not.

They're the finest of salicornes, green beans from the sea, from Brittany, très exotique. I thought you'd adore them." She holds out a large bag and, without even opening it, the scent envelops me and I'm no longer in the restaurant. I'm running by the ocean, powdery sand sticking in between my toes, waves crashing around me as I dive into the sea with reckless abandon. The water swells into a froth, whipped like freshly made Chantilly. My body glistens with water droplets.

Mom also says not to fart so much, that it’s not considered very nice and polite, but then when I tell her it’s her fault, she doesn’t believe me. Next time she feeds me beans and cabbage, I’ll show her.

Activities to Develop the Proprioceptive System Lifting and Carrying Heavy Loads—Have the child pick up and carry soft-drink bottles to the picnic; laundry baskets upstairs; or grocery bags, filled with nonbreakables, into the house. He can also lug a box of books, a bucket of blocks, or a pail of water from one spot to another. Pushing and Pulling—Have the child push or drag grocery bags from door to kitchen. Let him push the stroller, vacuum, rake, shove heavy boxes, tow a friend on a sled, or pull a loaded wagon. Hard muscular work jazzes up the muscles. Hanging by the Arms—Mount a chinning bar in a doorway, or take your child to the park to hang from the monkey bars. When she suspends her weight from her hands, her stretching muscles send sensory messages to her brain. When she shifts from hand to hand as she travels underneath the monkey bars, she is developing upper-body strength. Hermit Crab—Place a large bag of rice or beans on the child’s back and let her move around with a heavy “shell” on her back. Joint Squeeze—Put one hand on the child’s forearm and the other on his upper arm; slowly press toward and away from his elbow. Repeat at his knee and shoulder. Press down on his head. Straighten and bend his fingers, wrists, elbows, knees, ankles, and toes. These extension and flexion techniques provide traction and compression to his joints and are effective when he’s stuck in tight spaces, such as church pews, movie theaters, cars, trains, and especially airplanes where the air pressure changes. Body Squeeze—Sit on the floor behind your child, straddling him with your legs. Put your arms around his knees, draw them toward his chest, and squeeze hard. Holding tight, rock him forward and back.

Onset" Watching that frenzy of insects above the bush of white flowers, bush I see everywhere on hill after hill, all I can think of is how terrifying spring is, in its tireless, mindless replications. Everywhere emergence: seed case, chrysalis, uterus, endless manufacturing. And the wrapped stacks of Styrofoam cups in the grocery, lately I can’t stand them, the shelves of canned beans and soups, freezers of identical dinners; then the snowflake-diamond-snowflake of the rug beneath my chair, rows of books turning their backs, even my two feet, how they mirror each other oppresses me, the way they fit so perfectly together, how I can nestle one big toe into the other like little continents that have drifted; my God the unity of everything, my hands and eyes, yours; doesn’t that frighten you sometimes, remembering the pleasure of nakedness in fresh sheets, all the lovers there before you, beside you, crowding you out? And the scouring griefs, don’t look at them all or they’ll kill you, you can barely encompass your own; I’m saying I know all about you, whoever you are, it’s spring and it’s starting again, the longing that begins, and begins, and begins.