Yow Quotes

How do you do?" said Violet. "How do you do?" said Klaus. "Odo yow!" said Sunny.

Thump “Oh, God” Thump Thump Unbelievable… I woke up faster this time, because I knew what I was hearing I sat up in bed, glaring behind me. The bed was still pulled safely away from the wall, so I felt no movement. But there sure as hell something moving over there. Then I heard ……hissing? I looked down at Clive, whose tail was at full puff. He arched his back and paced back and forth at the foot of the bed. “Hey, mister. It’s cool. We just got a noisy neighbor, that’s all,” I soothed, stretching my hand out to him. That’s when I heard it. “Meow” I cocked my head sideways, listening more intently. I studied Clive, who looked back at me as if to say “T’weren’t me”. “Meow! Oh, God. Me -Yow!” The girl next door was meowing. What in the world was my neighbor packing to make that happen? Clive, at this point, went utterly bonkers and launched himself at the wall. He was literally climbing it, trying to get where the noise was coming from, and adding his own meows to the chorus. “Oooh yes, just like that, Simon…Mmmm….Meow, meow, Meow!” Sweet Lord, there were out-of-control pussies on both sides of this wall tonight.

Look, I know this is the last thing you want to talk about, but I wanted to ask you . . . .” He trailed off, looking strangely uneasy. “Ask me . . . ?” Ask me to dinner? Ask me out for drinks? Ask me if I wanted to see what he looked like under that uniform? Yow, where’d that last one come from?

But for to telle yow al hir beautee, It lyth nat in my tonge, n'yn my konnyng; I dar nat undertake so heigh a thyng. Myn Englissh eek is insufficient. It moste been a rethor excellent That koude his colours longynge for that art, If he sholde hire discryven every part. I am noon swich, I moot speke as I kan.

Commala-come-come There’s a young man with a gun. Young man lost his honey When she took it on the run. Commala-come-one! She took it on the run! Left her baby lonely But he baby ain’t done. Commala-come-coo The wind’ll blow ya through. Ya gotta go where ka’s wind blows ya Cause there’s nothin else to do. Commala-come-two! Nothin else to do! Gotta go where ka’s wind blows ya Cause there’s nothin else to do. Commala-come-key Can you tell me what ya see? Is it ghosts or just the mirror That makes ya wanna flee? Commala-come-three! I beg ya, tell me! Is it ghosts or just your darker self That makes ya wanna flee? Commala-come-ko Whatcha doin at my do’? If ya doan tell me now, my friend I’ll lay ya on de flo’. Commala-come-fo’! I can lay ya low! The things I’ve do to such as you You never wanna know. Commala-gin-jive Ain’t it grand to be alive? To look out on Discordia When the Demon Moon arrives. Commala-come-five! Even when the shadows rise! To see the world and walk the world Makes ya glad to be alive. Commala-mox-nix! You’re in a nasty fix! To take a hand in traitor’s glove Is to grasp a sheaf of sticks! Commala-come-six! Nothing there but thorns and sticks! When your find your hand in traitor’s glove You’re in a nasty fix. Commala-loaf-leaven! They go to hell or up to heaven! The the guns are shot and the fires hot, You got to poke em in the oven. Commala-come-seven! Salt and yow’ for leaven! Heat em up and knock em down And poke em in the oven. Commala-ka-kate You’re in the hands of fate. No matter if it’s real or not, The hour groweth late. Commala-come-eight! The hour groweth late! No matter what shade ya cast You’re in the hands of fate. Commala-me-mine You have to walk the line. When you finally get the thing you need It makes you feel so fine. Commala-come-nine! It makes ya feel fine! But if you’d have the thing you need You have to walk the line. Commala-come-ken It’s the other one again. You may know her name and face But that don’t make her your friend. Commala-come-ten! She is not your friend! If you let her get too close She’ll cut you up again! Commala-come-call We hail the one who made us all, Who made the men and made the maids, Who made the great and small. Commala-come-call! He made us great and small! And yet how great the hand of fate That rules us one and all. Commala-come-ki, There’s a time to live and one to die. With your back against the final wall Ya gotta let the bullets fly. Commala-come-ki! Let the bullets fly! Don’t ‘ee mourn for me, my lads When it comes my day to die. Commala-come-kass! The child has come at last! Sing your song, O sing it well, The child has come to pass. Commala-come-kass, The worst has come to pass. The Tower trembles on its ground; The child has come at last. Commala-come-come, The battle’s now begun! And all the foes of men and rose Rise with the setting sun.

Ye sey right sooth; this Monk he clappeth lowde. He spak how Fortune covered with a clowde I noot nevere what; and als of a tragedie Right now ye herde, and pardee, no remedie It is for to biwaille ne compleyne That that is doon, and als it is a peyne, As ye han seyd, to heere of hevynesse. Sire Monk, namoore of this, so God yow blesse! Youre tale anoyeth al this compaignye. Swich talkyng is nat worth a boterflye,

How many of you have had a crush on a teacher? I mean, remember that Physics professor? Law One is so steamy, I'm getting worked up just thinking about it: Every object in a state of uniform motion tends to remain in that state of motion unless an external force is applied to it. Mee-yow.

Throgh me men gon into that blysful place Of hertes hele and dedly woundes cure; Thorgh me men gon unto the welle of grace, There grene and lusty May shal evere endure. This is the wey to al good aventure. Be glad, thow redere, and thy sorwe of-caste; Al open am I - passe in, and sped thee faste!' 'Thorgh me men gon,' than spak that other side, 'Unto the mortal strokes of the spere Of which Disdayn and Daunger is the gyde, There nevere tre shal fruyt ne leves bere. This strem yow ledeth to the sorweful were There as the fish in prisoun is al drye; The'eschewing is only the remedye!

Yow loveres axe I now this questioun, Who hath the worse, Arcite or Palamoun?   490 That oon may seen his lady day by day, But in prison he moot dwelle alway. That other wher him list may ryde or go, But seen his lady shal he never-mo. Now demeth as yow liste, ye that can,   495 For I wol telle forth as I bigan. Explicit prima Pars.    Sequitur pars secunda.

Yow. Guys can be so insecure.

Chese now," quod she, "oon of thise thynges tweye: To han me foul and old til that I deye, And be to yow a trewe, humble wyf, And nevere yow displese in al my lyf, Or elles ye wol han me yong and fair, And take youre aventure of the repair That shal be to youre hous by cause of me, Or in som oother place, may wel be. Now chese yourselven, wheither that yow liketh.

Pretty soon I heard a twig snap down in the dark amongst the trees—something was a stirring. I set still and listened. Directly I could just barely hear a “me-yow! me-yow!” down there. That was good! Says I, “me-yow! me-yow!” as soft as I could, and then I put out the light and scrambled out of the window on to the shed. Then I slipped down to the ground and crawled in among the trees, and, sure enough, there was Tom Sawyer waiting for me.

she wrapped her head in a towel and croaked." That sounded reasonable to me … except for the paring knife with blood and pieces of hair stuck to it. Lula bent at the waist and examined the towel, wrapped turban style. "Must have been a good clonk she took. Lots of blood." Usually when people die their bodies evacuate and the smell gets bad fast. Mrs. Nowicki didn't smell dead. Mrs. Nowicki smelled like Jim Beam. Carl and I were both registering this oddity, looking at each other sideways when Mrs. Nowicki opened one eye and fixed it on Lula. "YOW!" Lula yelled, jumping back a foot, knocking into Sally. "Her eye popped open!" "The better

Get it, get it, get it!” moaned Bean. She had never been so bored in her entire life. She was so bored she fell on the floor. Then she took a tiny peek up at the lady in the dressing room next door. Yow. “Get up, Bean!” said her mother. “This minute.” Bean got up and sat on the triangle seat again. She waited. Nancy looked at herself. “I kind of like it,” Nancy said. “But it costs forty dollars. That’s all my

Incrimination and heady elation, cutting capers in the misty vapours, havoc and ravage hurrah for the savage life precarious, life so various, life nefarious and temerarious, pulling faces, fierce grimaces, leaving traces in rocky places, pieces and faeces all over the fleece is that a yow's shoulder they've left there to moulder stuck up on a boulder? Much to learn, Rowf, in the fern, of great concern, for this is the point of no return. Those who kill sheep should mind where they sleep, when there's nothing to hear the shot-gun is near, the curse of the farmer is likely to harm yer, a scent in the morning is sent for a warning, at a cloud on the sun a wise dog will run, it's the sharp and alert who avoid being hurt and a dog that's gone feral is living in peril. Those with blood on their paws and wool in their jaws should heed these old saws.

Iss all regulated Simon, everything in this country is. Yow can't scratch yer arse without some cunt filling o form abaht it.

She stepped up to the door and knocked. The television voice cut off, replaced by the sound of pattering activity. “Just a moment,” said a male voice. The door opened. It was Martin, aka Theodore the gardener, in pajama pants and no top, a towel hanging around his neck. Unclothed, he had the kind of build that made her want to say, “Yow.” She was glad she was wearing her favorite dress. “Trick or treat?” she said. “What?” “Sorry to interrupt.” She indicated the towel. “You’re working out?” “Miss, uh, Erstwhile, right? Yes, hello. No, I just couldn’t find my shirt. Are you lost?” “No, I was walking and I…I don’t suppose you could give me the Knicks-Pacers score?” Martin stared blankly for a moment, then looking around as if trying to spy out eavesdroppers, pulled her inside and shut the door behind her. “You could hear that?” “The TV? Yes, a little, and I saw the light through your window.” “Blasted paper-thin curtains.” He grimaced and ran his fingers through his hair. “You are going to catch me at everything bad, aren’t you? Let’s hope you’re not her spy. She’ll have my balls for stew.” “Who, Mrs. Wattlesbrook?” “Yes, in whose presence I signed a dozen nondisclosure and proper-behavior and first-child and I don’t know what other kinds of promises, in one of which I swore to keep any modern thingies out of sight of the guests.” “Tell me that Wattlesbrook isn’t her real name.” “It is, actually.” “Oh, no,” she said with a laugh in her voice. “Oh, yes.” He sat on the edge of his bed. “I take it, then, you’re not spying for her? Good. Yes, dear Mrs. Wattlesbrook, descended from the noble water buffalo. It’s a decent job, though. Best pay for being a gardener I’ve ever had.” He met her eyes. “I’d hate to lose it, Miss Erstwhile.” “I’m not going to tattletale,” she said in tired big-sister tones. “And you can’t call me Miss Erstwhile when you have a towel around your neck. To real people I’m Jane.” “I’m still Martin.

Kee-yow”?

It seemed like everything we did had to do with food. As soon as breakfast was over, the women got busy cooking the mail meal of the day, which was served at noon. The rest of us went out to collect food. In the fields we gathered corn, then brought it back to the house, where we hung it up until it was needed to grind into cornmeal. “Yow! That’s a lot of salt! Why are you doing that?” “Salt dries out the fish and preserves it--so it will last through the winter.” “This is weird-looking corn--it’s all different colors!” “It’s Indian corn, child. It grows much better here than our English grains. And it will feed us through the winter.

Ethnographer Clifford Geertz says: “Believing, with Max Weber, that man is an animal suspended in webs of significance he himself has spun, I take culture to be those webs.”93

But knowing that moose had returned to Vermont in his lifetime pleased him enormously. It was the idea that things repaired themselves, that if you backed off a little and didn’t ask too much of the world then it would meet you halfway. This was one of the few corners of the planet that had gotten better in the last century, he thought—greener, healthier. The damage that too many sheep had done was wearing off. Or maybe you didn’t even need to think of it as damage. It had been good then, when Vermont was full of farmers, and it was good now, when Vermont was full of trees. Life ebbed and flowed, came and went. Goodness didn’t demand the one-way arrow toward Progress and More. It was, he thought, a blessing to have lived out his life in a place that spun slowly like that yellow leaf, an eddy in the American rapids, a place that was shrinking when most of the country was growing growing ever-growing. A place where—yow, a place where a grouse might fire up at any moment from right under your legs, scaring the wits out of you as it somehow flew off at top speed between the tangle of trunks and branches. A place where moss covered the back of a giant boulder, what the geologists delightfully called an “erratic” dropped in place when the last glaciers melted away. A place where the beech leaves still clung brown to the branches, shaking a little in the too-warm breeze.

Well, that’s something,” Julia said. “You know what that bastard said to me when I asked him about the school? He said that over in the next county they forced the government to build a school for the migrants, and the town people ‘round here’re trying to do the same. He said they don’t like their kids mixing.” “What did you say?” “I said ‘it’s too damn bad’ to myself, but I just kept still. We got to have work.” He was silent a moment. “They sure hate us.” “Frieda was telling about a bunch of club women who want to have us all sterilized,” Julia said. “Yow, they want to fix us like horses. Just good for work.” “It makes you feel queer being in a place where everybody hates you.” “It makes you desperate sometimes. I felt desperate when he said they don’t like their kids mixing. I could tell he thought so too, the damned bootlicker.” “Let them talk. Our kids are as good as theirs, and they’re clean when we have soap and water.

Yow'll kill me, Christ, but I almost drowned.' 'Only almost? I'll try again,' Ed said, jumping on his shoulders and pushing him down.

At least yow've been in hospital having things cushy while we've been in the shooting gallery,' Fred said.

Hello nǐ hǎo knee how. (Think: How’s your knee, i.e., “How are you?”) Goodbye zàijiàn dzeye gee-en Thank you xiè xie syeh syeh (The second “xie” has no tone.) You’re welcome bú kè qi boo kuh chee (The “chee” has no tone.) Good morning zǎoshang hǎo dzow shahng how Please stand in line qǐng páiduì ching pie dway Too expensive taì guì le tie gway luh (Make it) cheaper piányi yìdiǎn pien yee ee dien (I; we) don’t want it búyào boo yow I want this one wǒ yào zhèige waw yow jay guh (Note: “guh” has no tone) How much (does it cost)? duóshǎo qian dwo shao chee-en Where is the bathroom? cèsuǒ zài nǎlǐ tsuh swo dz-eye nah lee Over there nàli nah lee (Note: “lee” has no tone) Please give me qǐng gěi wǒ ching gay waw Fine; OK; good; alright hǎo how Not OK; no good bùhǎo boo how I want to go ____ Wǒ yào qù waw yow chee-you (Show taxi driver the address in Chinese.) (Want) to go to ____ Wǒ yào dào qù ____ waw you dow ____ chee-you (e.g., when buying tickets at train or bus station) Police! jǐngchá! jing chah! (in case of theft or emergency) Help! Help! jiùmìng! jiùmìng! jee-oh ming! jee-oh ming! Faster! kuài yìdiǎn! kweye ee dien! Numbers one through ten: one yī ee two èr ar three sān sahn four sì szih five wǔ woo six liù leo seven qī chee eight bā bah nine jiǔ geo ten shí sure one of something yíge ee guh two of something liǎngge lee-ang guh three of something sānge sahn guh Etc.

Hard luck, you’re coming with us.’ ‘Why do you want me to come along?’ ‘Yow have got a honest face,’ Fred said. ‘We can always use an extra pair of hands, that’s why.’ ‘What about the others?’ ‘They’re useless. Walter’s too old and Bell was brought up by priests.’ ‘No I wasn’t.’ Ed ignored him and continued. ‘Taffy wouldn’t stop moaning if he came along and George is a bloody sergeant.