Zombieland Quotes

Don't look now, but that's my ex over there." Surely I'm not the only one who takes "don't look now" as "there's no better time than now." I looked. "Bad, Ali!" Another slap to my arm. "Bad, bad, bad Ali! Have you no self control?

You are such a chick.” I widened my eyes in mock surprise. “No way. Are you sure?

Should I pull on a shirt?" he asked with hint of amusement. I WILL NOT BLUSH. "No." He'd be doing the world a favor if he never wore a shirt again, but I wasn't going to tell him that part. "You're fine.

Truly living required risk.

You don't think I'm crazy?" I asked hesitantly. "Like I'm one to judge another persons sanity.

He’s body slammed enough people to start a new country. And there could be a neighbouring city for the people he’s punched in the throat

He was gorgeous, and I absolutely, no question, had to be drooling. After a quick and hopefully stealthy check – big show, I wasn’t!- I found myself wonder what color his eyes were. Brown maybe. Or even hazel. Either way…wow, just wow. Deer? Headlights? Hi, I’m Ali.

Life's too short to pretend and play games like that. I want to spend my time hanging out with people who make me feel good about myself. People who make me happy.

Yeah, okay. You're right. I was having dinner with Zombie Carl the other night. You know, steak, rare, and a bottle of vintage type A. He told me all his secrets, but too bad for you I promised him I wouldn't tell. In exchange I asked him to gather his best undead buddies and stalk me through my friend's yard. And oh, yeah, it was totally fine if they wanted to use me as an all-night-dinner buffet, because having organs is SO last year.

He ignored me, thank God, saying to Kat, "Let go of Frosty's leash. You're choking the life out of him." Kat's eyes narrowed to tiny slits, a sure sign of her aggression. "He deserves to choke. He didn't keep little frosty in his pants this summer." the words snapped like a whip. "He did." Cole snapped back with unwavering confidence. "Not." "Did." "Not!" "Did," "Not, not, not!" she shouted with a stomp of her foot. "What are we five?" Cole said. "Six.

Everyone at school seems to go by a nickname. Kat, Frosty, Bronx, Boo Bear, Jelly Bean, Freckles.

Why wouldn't I dance?' Uh, maybe because at first glance he looked like he ate puppies for breakfast and kittens for lunch?

I looked around, counting the competition. Sixteen. To win, all I had to do was incapacitate each one, place my hand over their hearts and turn my palm into a flame. Easy. Yeah right.

I can't promise we'll ever use you for a hasty getaway," Cole said, "but with a little work, you might be able to race my grandmother-while she's on her scooter.

I’m not trying to—What do teenagers say nowadays?” he asked my grandmother.“Get all up in her biznez,” Nana said.Without cracking a smile.“That’s right,” he replied. “We’re not trying to get all up in your biznez, Ali.

Please, I'd love to meet the guy you couldn't handle, and give him and award.

I'm not mad, though," Kat said. "You lied to me, and I lied to you. We're even." Finally he lost the grin. "When did you lie?" She gave him a Sweet'N Low smile, as if his amusement had been poured into her. "Every time we messed around. I didn't actually enjoy myself, if you know what I mean.

Girl, he wants to dip you in Frosted Flakes and have you for breakfast. That's his favorite cereal, by the way." I...had no words for that.

I had faith, and if I had faith I couldn't worry.

Blood spurted from his nose. Okay, I couldn't help myself. I burst out laughing.

I've seriously got to stop turning my girlfriends gay, but like I can really help it. It's my animal appeal.

Of course.” She fluffed her hair. “I don’t want to brag, but I’m very high maintenance.” “Uh, I think low maintenance is what’s desirable.” “Low maintenance is what’s forgettable. You might want to write that down, underline it, circle it and put a star by it. It’s golden.” With barely a breath, she added, “Now let’s find out if we’re compatible, shall we?

She's a skank. He's a player. He's cute but almost OD'd last year, so he's a bad bet. She's a two-faced, lying, cheating witch. That's right, Trina, I'm talking to you," she shouted. "By the way," she added just for me, "Trina cusses, which means cussing is trashy, which means my golden rule is to never cuss. I have class. Unlike Trina, the skank of Birmingham." The last part was, of course, shouted.

Is it sad that my first thought happened to be: Thank God I'm off the treadmill.

We can't spy on them if they aren't spying on us, now can we?" Warped logic, but okay.

We are so not breaking out the violins and pity partying.

Are you trying to tell me that you've never been kissed?" I pressed my tongue to the roof of my mouth. He looked so dubious, and his tone had borderd on insulting. "Yeah. So?" "So, I'm shocked, that's all. You're...you." In-sul-ting."Me?" I asked stiffly. "Yeah. Hot," he said. Wait. Me? HOT? He laughed down at me."No one's told you that, either, have they?" I could only shake me head. "You've clearly been hanging around idiots.

Pops: How about you finish this sentence for me, Jason? When a girl says no she means... Justin, looking desperately at me: No? Nana: Are you sure? Justin, shifting uncomfortably: I'm sure. No means no. Nana: Well look at you. You got one right. Now here's another, even tougher sentence for you to finish. Premarital sex is... Me: Nana! I'm so sorry Justin. Nana: Unlike Pops, I'm not moving on. Justin? Pops: His name is Jason. Justin:Uh....uh.... Pops: While you think about that, why don't you tell me how you feel about drinking and driving? Justin: I'm totally against it, I swear! Nana: Methinks he protests too much.

Hate is too mild of a word. But it's nothing personal, I don't think.

Cole, who had kissed me. Cole, who had refused to discuss it afterwards. Okay, fine. I had refused. Cole, who was driving me flipping crazy.

Your Grandpa was a boxer in his youth. Sexiest thing I'd ever seen, let me tell you. He wore these short little shorts, and was always dripping in sweat." There goes my appetite.

That's what Zombieland is: frozen, calm, quiet.

Are you suggesting I’m working with the zombies? That I paid them to pretend to attack me so that I’d trick you into letting me join you?”“Did you?” Mr. Holland demanded.“Yeah, okay,” I said in a sugar-sweet tone. “You’re right. I was having dinner with Zombie Carl the other night. You know, steaks, rare, and a bottle of vintage type A. He told me all his secrets, but too bad for you I promised him I wouldn’t tell. In exchange I asked him to gather his best undead buddies and stalk me through my friend’s yard. And oh, yeah, it was totally fine if they wanted to use me as an all-night dinner buffet, because having organs is so last season.

So let me help you out. My favorite color is-hell, I don't know. I've never cared enough to think about it. My favorite movie is-what else-ZOMBIELAND. But not because the good guys win in the end, though that's a plus, but because Emma Stone is hot." I snorted. He was SUCH a guy. "My favorite band is-" "Let me guess," I interjected. "White Zombie? Slayer?" "Red. And no, not just because I want zombies to bleed.What about you? Who do you like? Because honestly, I'm surprised you know White Z and Slayer." "I like Red,too, but I'm partial to Skillet. Used to listen to them with my sister. But why wouldn't I know the other bands?" "You look so angelic." "And do you think angels are hot?" I asked primly, trying to play it cool so that I wouldn't reveal what a mess I was on the inside. All this time, he'd wanted to get to know me and date me. What craziness! "The hottest.

You are such a chick." I widened my eyes in mock surprise. "No way. Are you sure?" Sighing again, he rubbed at the tattoos on his wrist. "Mackenzie was right. You aren't slayer material." Before he had time to register my intentions, I threw a punch. My sore, swollen knuckles slammed into his cheekbone, thrusting his head to the side. Pain shot up my arm, but I bit my tongue to stop a moan. "You were saying?" He popped his jaw, rubbed at the reddening skin-and slowly grinned. "Okay, so now I understand why Cole likes you. You're worse than Kat.

Sometimes I think maybe they were right all along, the people on the other side in Zombieland. Maybe it would be better if we didn't love. If we didn't lose either. If we didn't get our hearts stomped on, shattered: if we didn't have to patch and repatch until we're like Frankenstein monsters, all sewn together and bound up by who knows what. If we could just float along, like snow. But how could anyone who's ever seen a summer - big explosions of green and skies lit up electric with splashy sunsets, a riot of flowers and wind that smells like honey - pick the snow?

Never forget that evil is evil. You cannot change it. You cannot lead it to the light. But, if you let it, evil can lead you to the darkness.

For so long I'd wanted my life to be nothing more than a dream. Now, with emotions and sensations flooding me, I wanted this reality.

I’d rather the world considered me crazy while I go down fighting than spend the rest of my life hiding from the truth.

Though I'd wanted to wear sequinned flip-flops, I'd worn boots and switched the plain white ties for pink lace because, uh, the pink were sturdier.

I hated that anyone in the world could read those things and pity me.

Excuses are merely the cherry topping of an E.coli-infested sundae.

We can't really spy on them if they aren't spying on us, now can we?" twisted logic, but okay.

His frown was less dark and more confused."What's new for you? Dancing?" And so much more, but all I said was, "Yes." "And you let some strange college boy grind all over you for your first time? That's stupid, Ali." NOT GOING TO BE EMBARRASSED, NOT GOING TO BE EMBARRASSED."First, he wasn't grinding on me, and second, you're no better than him." A solid minute of silence, then "You are terrible for my ego, you know that?" I could say the same to him.

Have you ever seen a witness? That's what she called herself. Not a ghost, those don't exist, and not an angel, those do, but a witness." "No." "Ever heard the term?" "Outside of a legal trial, no.

I can’t promise we’ll ever use you for a hasty getaway,” Cole said, “but with a little work, you might be able to race my grandmother—while she’s on her scooter.

Here goes. See, my boyfriend and I decided to stay together for the summer, you know, even though he had to go visit some family in nowhereville. At least, that’s what he told me. Anyway, everything was fine at first, because you know, we talked every night, and then boom, he just stopped calling. So I called and texted him like the good girlfriend I am, and it wasn’t stalkerish, I swear, because I stopped after, like, the thirtieth time. A week goes by before he finally hits me back, and he was totally drunk and all, hey, baby, I miss you and what are you wearing, like no time had passed, and I was all, you so do not deserve to know.

I am so glad we met at an undisclosed location over the summer.

Of course I know how to drive. Now, if you ask me if I know how to drive well, the answer would be different.

Any time I thought I couldn’t love her any more, she surprised me by winning another piece of my heart.

Low maintance is what's forgettable. You might want to right that down, underline it, circle it and put a star by it. It's golden.

A golden half-moon graced the black velvet sky, no clouds in sight, allowing a blanket of stars to twinkle in every direction.

That's what Zombieland is: calm, quiet. It's the world after a blizzard, the peacefulness that comes with it, the muffled silence and the sense that nithig in the world is moving. It's beautiful, in its own way. Maybe we'd be better off. But how could anyone who's ever seen a summer - big explosions of green and skies lit up electric with splashy sunsets, a riot of flowers and wind that smells like honey - pick the snow?

If you're afraid of everything out there, you quit going out there.

From blissful to tragic, innocent to ruined?

You know, there’s a very good chance I’m the best fighter in this room. Did you ever think of that?” Never mind the fact that I’d almost died. “Maybe, if you were better, you wouldn’t be so surprised when someone exhibits extraordinary abilities.

The sky was dark and drizzly, as if the world wept for what it had lost.

When I reached him, I anchored my hands on my hips and glared. "Do not get into anymore fights on my behalf." I didn't want him suspended-or worse. "Now give me your keys." He gently flicked the end of my nose. "Haven't you heard? I do what I want, when I want, and there's nothing anyone can do to stop me." I could knee him between the legs and simply steal his keys, proving otherwise, but all I said was, "Believe me, I've witnessed that firsthand," and held out my hands. "Now be a good boy and do what I want you to do." He lifted the sunglasses and I saw a bright gleam in those violet eyes. "And what is it, exactly, that Little Ali wants?" Little Ali. Ugh. "I said give me your keys." No reason to play nice. He certainly wasn't. "And if you call me Little Ali again, I'll smash your trachea the way I hear you like to to others." Suddenly suspicious, he snapped out a quick "Why?" "Because I hate it." "Not the name. The keys." "Hello. Because I want to stab you with them, why else?" "Why?"He insisted. Fine. "Because I need to practice my driving, and I promised my grandparents I would." "You're telling me..." The glasses slid back into place as he cupped the back of my neck and dragged me closer to him, peering down at me sternly. "That you Don't know how to drive?" "Of course I know how to drive. Now, if you ask me if I know how to drive well, the answer will be different." He choked out a laugh, but backed away and tossed me the keys. "Just wait until the parking lot is empty before putting my precious life in danger.

Zombieland reference," Jon said, nodding. "How do you know that? That's a thousand-year-old reference!" I looked at laura. "I can't think of a single movie from a thousand years ago." "Uh...Betsy..." "Don't say it." You know how you don't know how stupid something is until you hear yourself say it? That happened to me a lot.

Have you ever wondered what a witness is? It's someone who has died, who lives in heaven and watches over the lives of those she loved. That's what I do. I watch you. I cheer you on. I hurt when you hurt.

The moment our gazes met, the rest of the world washed away—

Didn’t anyone ever tell you that you can’t spell later without the word late?

I stride to the ring where Cole and River are still hammering at each other. I remove my shirt and drop it to the floor. "Woo-hoo," Ali calls. "Take it all off.

And in the span of a single second we were no longer across the hall from each other—

Besides, life’s too short to pretend and play games like that. I want to spend my time hanging out with people who make me feel good about myself. People who make me happy.

Maybe it would be better if we didn't love. If we didn't lose, either. If we didn't get our hearts stomped on, shattered; if we didn't have to patch and repatch until we're like Frankenstein monsters, all sewn together and bound up by who knows what. If we could just float along, like snow. That's what Zombieland is: frozen, calm, quiet. It's the world after a blizzard, the peacefulness that comes with it, the muffled silence and the sense that nothing in the world is moving. It's beautiful, in it's own way. Maybe we'd be better off. But how could anyone who's ever seen a summer — big explosions of green and skies lit up electric with splashy sunsets, a riot of flowers and wind that smells like honey — pick the snow?

Of course.” She fluffed her hair. “I don’t want to brag, but I’m very high maintenance.” “Uh, I think low maintenance is what’s desirable.” “Low maintenance is what’s forgettable. You might want to write that down, underline it, circle it and put a star by it. It’s golden.” With

Should—a word of anguish rather than consolation.

Yeah, that’s the way.

Pops: Plans for the future? Justin: Not sure yet. Pops: Well, why not? You don't got much longer in school, boy. Now's the time to figure things out, not later. Didn't anyone ever tel you that you can't spell later without the word late? Justin: I promise you, I'm doing my best to figure things out. Pops: "Doing my best" is a phrase failures use. Why don't you buy a man card and finish figuring? Me: Pops! That's so rude. Justin, I'm so sorry. Pops: What? How is a valid question rude? But all right, fine, I'll move on since baby boy can't take the heat. How about you finish this sentence for me, Jason? When a girl says no, she means... Justin, looking desperately at me: No? Nana: Are you not sure? Justin, shifting uncomfortably: I'm sure. No means no. Nana: Well, look at you. You got no right. Now here's another, even tougher sentence for you to finish. Premarital sex is... Me: Nana! I'm so sorry, Justin. Nana: Unlike Pops, I'm not moving on, Justin? Pops: His name is Jason. Justin: Uh...uh... Pops: While you think about that, why don't you tell me how you feel about drinking and driving? Justin: I'm totatlly against it, I swear! Nana: Methinks he protests too much.

Low maintenance is what’s forgettable.

Low maintenance is what's forgettable. You might want to wright that down, underline it, circle it and put a star by it. It's golden.

Where was I?” Kat asked me. “Never mind. Judging by your expression, you’re not ready for flirting lessons. I’ll just stick with giving you a pick-me-up. Come on. Let’s go to Café Bella and drink so many lattes we’re peeing coffee for a week.

There's no use going back to yesterday.

Leo gave her one more smile, and it was so full of joy that her heart skipped a beat. Then he turned around and strode off, his long legs eating up the distance toward the elevator bank around the bend. “Come back to me, George,” Becca said. “Don’t go toward the light.” “What?” “Exactly.” Becca snapped her fingers. “Stay with me, babe. Don’t let the hottie who stole your virginity send you into zombieland.

Don't look so forlorn. You're making the right decision. Cole once ate a pound of rusty nails and claimed it tasted like unicorn tears mixed with fairy dust. True story. I was there." Reeve nodded encouragingly. "I wasn't there, but I can believe it. I once saw him body slam a teacher for daring to ask him the meaning of X minus Y." "He put the guy in the hospital for three months," Poppy said, tapping a fingernail against her chin. "Or was that a student he body slammed for daring to give an answer different than his?" "Probably both. He's body slammed enough people to start a new country. And there could be a neighboring city for the people he's punched in the throat.

Why wouldn't I dance?" Uh, maybe because at first glance he looked like he ate puppies for breakfast and kittens for lunch? As for what he enjoyed having for dinner - that couldn't be discussed in polite company. "Because you think it's dumb?" The words emerged as a question rather than the statement I'd meant them to be. "Something that allows a guy to put his hands all over a girl isn't dumb. It's genius

Had anyone told me that my entire life would change course between one heartbeat and the next, I would have laughed. From blissful to tragic, innocent to ruined? Please. But that’s all it took. One heartbeat. A blink, a breath, a second, and everything I knew and loved was gone.

Can you tell I was a depressed, neurotic mess?

No one hit my friend and lived to tell the tale. That was my new motto, and one I would forever embrace.

Is it sad that my first thought happened to be: Thank God I’m off the treadmill!

But you know what? I’d rather the world considered me crazy while I go down fighting than spend the rest of my life hiding from the truth.

I love to read (du) okay i love to read about alpha males and gods shadowhunter maze runner half bloods divergent a good romance

The hospital is a kind of zombie-land full of hideous monsters with bandaged heads, half skulls, dragging the left half of their body, trailing a leg behind them as they go, surrounded by sticks and helpers and dribble. Any one of them could be the future you. Is this really better, or is it worse? Is a short life better – or is a longer life half-lived worth more? I used to dread my appointments in that place, a place of cures but also a place of horrors around every corner, reminders of what you might become. What would those people give to be normal, assuming they even knew what that was anymore? And just two blocks away – a busy road, people driving without a care in the world. Jogging without thinking, their biggest drama being the fact that their phone is on 10 per cent charge.

Min mor snakker højere og højere, i takt med at hun bliver mere beruset. Hun får en hæslig stemme, som ikke er hendes. Den stemme hader jeg mest af alt i hele verden. En stemme der ændrer sig, når den har fået en slurk af det, den godt kan lide. En stemme der bliver venlig. En stemme der lyder som frygtløshedens stemme. En stemme med maske på. Selv hendes hilsen ændrer sig. Hej. Jeg har lyttet alt for meget til den stemme.

Yes, Russian movies best.” Jason snorted, relaxing a little at the familiar joke. “Yeah, the best at being long and boring. Congratulations.” “You American, have no taste. All you want is burger movie.” Jason, who had been friends with Sasha long enough—fuck, had it really been three years already?—to translate his weird phrases, rolled his eyes. “You were laughing your ass off at Zombieland like, yesterday.” “That is not fast burger movie—” “Fast food,” Jason corrected. “That is good movie. No taste.” “I’m not saying I didn’t like it, I’m just saying—” “You always ‘just saying’. I’m not listen to American anymore.

ZombieLand is anywhere you feel useless or uninterested in what you’re doing.

If you’re not sure where your passion lies, ask yourself what you end up doing when you have nothing to do. Where does your mind go? What websites do you visit? Which articles and books do you read? What television shows do you watch? Which activities naturally draw your attention? Your passion is right in front of you: it’s how you spend your idle time. People say you shouldn’t make your passion your work. Bullshit. If you want to avoid ZombieLand, you must make your passion your work.[18]

Here’s a poignant analogy from Rework, written by the founders of 37Signals: Do we look at Harvard or Oxford and say, “If they’d only expand and branch out and hire thousands more professors and go global and open other campuses all over the world …then they’d be great schools.” Of course not. That’s not how we measure the value of these institutions. So why is it the way we measure businesses?[34] What are you chasing after? More praise? More money? More power? More importantly, what is it that you need to defend in order to be happy? Your time? Your ability to think creatively? The freedom to make decisions? It might be one of these, all three of these, or none of these. Whatever it is, you better find out. Otherwise, it’s quite possible to escape ZombieLand only to lock yourself in a new cage that’s even more confining. When a commitment to passion serves as the crux of your decision-making process, it’s easier to avoid this pitfall.

Rule number 2: Double-tap.

Livet är alldeles för kort för att man ska gräva ner sig i sorger

Don't shoot me with my own gun!

After dark, well, you stayed put.

Cool. I’m Kathryn, but everyone calls me Kat. And do not make any cat jokes or I’ll have to hurt you. With my claws.” She waved the long, blunt tips of her fingers at me. “Truth is, I stopped speaking meow a long time ago.

I had a routine. I spent my mornings reading The Iron Fey series.

Also, I don’t want her suspended after only two days just because she did the entire school a favor and fed you your own teeth.

Emma Thompson, ca. Sense and Sensibility: You must cease and desist all such lustful thoughts, you beast. Emma Stone, ca. Zombieland: Over your dead body. Julia Roberts, ca. Pretty Woman: Big mistake. Huge. Cardi B, in any situation: Bitch, please. All of those worked. Unfortunately, what was more likely to come out of her mouth was straight-up Jennifer Lawrence: I volunteer as tribute.

I wasn't an ever-knowing adult; I was just expected to act like one. And, yeah. a real nice family tree I had. Murder and mayhem on every gnarled branch. Hardly seemed fair.

Magazines. Yeah. That's the only thing that made any sense. She had picked each girl out of Flawless Friends Forever, I'm sure. In comparison, I felt frumpy and way outclasses, like I'd been selected from Homeless Dogs Weekly.

I wasn't into girls, but...wow. This one could probably turn anyone. Not even Kat and her catalog friends could compare.