Best 197 quotes in «freak quotes» category

There are times when born hollandaise heads, as well as nouveaux turbot freaks and recherche escargotphiles alike crave the saignet abundance of a New York steak.

There is nothing the pop world loves more than a way-out freak.

There's a hell of a lot of freedom in this rock and roll circus... it's where all the freaks go - it's the environment for me.

The sicker mother got, the stranger the people surrounding her became. I called them The Garland Freaks.

What I wanna do with Methods is keep that around as sorta my freak out, creative free for all- anything goes project.

Those rare individuals society labels geniuses are almost always freaks of nature and are naturally gifted rather than being diligent students who became geniuses because of their education.

This gentleman here, Michael Hussey, is just an absolute freak.

What an excellent tool the internet is for freaks.

You are a sick freak who should be beaten.

When NYDJ called me and told me that Christie Brinkley was going to be on set with me I freaked out. And when I met Christie, she had a little freak out because she said that her daughter Sailor loved me so much.

When you tell other people to do stuff they don't know how to do, they tend to freak out.

You can never have enough nerds, freaks, and weirdos. You know what I'm sayin'?

You can only be a control freak when you have weak people around you.

You could say that to the pope. I want to talk to you about Jesus. He'd be like, easy, freak.

You didn't have to take a punch for me, you know,' he said. 'I'm a lover, not a fighter.' 'You're a freak is what you are,' I said.

You don't want money to make you a social freak where you can only hang out with rich people.

You know what freaks me out? Having your personal life live-tweeted so that everyone can make fun of you forever.

A deaf and dumb in the mist of morons is a renowed talkative among brains.

Yes!” said Fang, punching the air. “Freaks rule.

Dear friend, You are not a freak. You are wanted. You are necessary. You are the only you there is. Don’t be afraid to leave the castle. It’s a great big world out there. Love, a fellow reader

Everybody has a second personality, it may possess and make you do whatever it likes.

Worst thing in the world? John is completely out of it. Good luck, ladies. He's a freak!

Have you ever watched kids on a playground? There will be one kid taller than all the rest. He’s out there playing, and he’s the tallest one. But he doesn’t know he’s tall. Maybe on some level it registers with him that the other kids in his class are shorter, that he has to look down to meet their eyes when he’s close to them, but he never really thinks much about it. “Later, if the difference stays and he remains taller than others, somebody will say something about his height. Maybe they’ll tease him and call him a freak. Then he’ll fully realize he’s taller than normal. He still won’t think much about it, though, until others point it out to him all the time.

Go, Breeze,” someone yelled. But another voice yelled, “Quit showing off, stupid mutant.” Brianna stopped dead. Her dress settled back into place. “Who said that?” Zil. The same jerk who had picked on Jack over the phones. “Me,” Zil said, stepping forward. “And don’t bother trying to look tough. I’m not scared of you, freak.” “You should be,” Brianna hissed. Suddenly there was Dekka, up off her chair, hand extended between Brianna and Zil. “No,” she said in her deep voice. “None of that.” Quinn joined her. “Dekka’s right, we can’t be having fights and stuff here. Sam will shut this place down.” “Maybe we should have two different clubs,” a seventh grader named Antoine said. “You know, one for freaks and one for normals.” “Man, what is the matter with you?” Quinn demanded. “I don’t like her acting like she’s so cool, is all,” Zil said, stepping beside Antoine. “You should be on our side, Quinn. Everyone knows you’re a normal,” another kid, Lance, said. “Well…kind of normal. You’re still Quinn.

God is the comic shepherd who gets more of a kick out of that one lost sheep once he finds it again than out of the ninety and nine who had the good sense not to get lost in the first place. God is the eccentric host who, when the country-club crowd all turned out to have other things more important to do than come live it up with him, goes out into the skid rows and soup kitchens and charity wards and brings home a freak show. The man with no legs who sells shoelaces at the corner. The old woman in the moth-eaten fur coat who makes her daily rounds of the garbage cans. The old wino with his pint in a brown paper bag. The pusher, the whore, the village idiot who stands at the blinker light waving his hand as the cars go by. They are seated at the damask-laid table in the great hall. The candles are all lit and the champagne glasses filled. At a sign from the host, the musicians in their gallery strike up "Amazing Grace.

He already thought she was a weirdo, and this was just going to make her seem that much weirder. Did the bearded lady get excited when cute guys came to her freak show?

If you to get progress... less fuck is the formula + label people... and put yourself in high status... you are there and you own the room... you ain't jealous, you ain't freak or blame.

He’s a murdering chud,” Zil was yelling. “What do you want to do? Lynch him?” Astrid demanded. That stopped the flow for a second as kids tried to figure out what “lynch” meant. But Zil quickly recovered. “I saw him do it. He used his powers to kill Harry.” “I was trying to stop you from smashing my head in!” Hunter shouted. “You’re a lying mutant freak!” “They think they can do anything they want,” another voice shouted. Astrid said, as calmly as she could while still pitching her voice to be heard, “We are not going down that path, people, dividing up between freaks and normals.” “They already did it!” Zil cried. “It’s the freaks acting all special and like their farts don’t stink.” That earned a laugh. “And now they’re starting to kill us,” Zil cried. Angry cheers. Edilio squared his shoulders and stepped into the crowd. He went first to Hank, the kid with the shotgun. He tapped him on the shoulder and said, “Give me that thing.” “No way,” Hank said. But he didn’t seem too certain. “You want to have that thing fire by accident and blow someone’s face off?” Edilio held his hand out. “Give it to me, man.” Zil rounded on Edilio. “You going to make Hunter give up his weapon? Huh? He’s got powers, man, and that’s okay, but the normals can’t have any weapon? How are we supposed to defend ourselves from the freaks?” “Man, give it a rest, huh?” Edilio said. He was doing his best to sound more weary than angry or scared. Things were already bad enough. “Zil, you want to be responsible if that gauge goes off and kills Astrid? You want to maybe give that some thought?” Zil blinked. But he said, “Dude, I’m not scared of Sam.” “Sam won’t be your problem, I will be,” Edilio snapped, losing patience. “Anything happens to her, I’ll take you down before Sam ever gets the chance.” Zil snorted derisively. “Ah, good little boy, Edilio, kissing up to the chuds. I got news for you, dilly dilly, you’re a lowly normal, just like me and the rest of us." “I’m going to let that go,” Edilio said evenly, striving to regain his cool, trying to sound calm and in control, even though he could hardly take his eyes off the twin barrels of the shotgun. “But now I’m taking that shotgun.” “No way!” Hank cried, and the next thing was an explosion so loud, Edilio thought a bomb had gone off. The muzzle flash blinded him, like camera flash going off in his face. Someone yelled in pain. Edilio staggered back, squeezed his eyes shut, trying to adjust. When he opened them again the shotgun was on the ground and the boy who’d accidentally fired it was holding his bruised hand, obviously shocked. Zil bent to grab the gun. Edilio took two steps forward and kicked Zil in the face. As Zil fell back Edilio made a grab for the shotgun. He never saw the blow that turned his knees to water and filled his head with stars. He fell like a sack of bricks, but even as he fell he lurched forward to cover the shotgun. Astrid screamed and launched herself down the stairs to protect Edilio. Antoine, the one who had hit Edilio, was raising his bat to hit Edilio again, but on the back swing he caught Astrid in the face. Antoine cursed, suddenly fearful. Zil yelled, “No, no, no!” There was a sudden rush of running feet. Down the walkway, into the street, echoing down the block.

Hello, freak,” Drake said. Lana backed away, but too late. Drake leveled his gun at her. “I’m right-handed. ’Least I used to be. But I can still hit you from this distance.” “What do you want?” Drake motioned toward the stump of his right arm. It was gone from just above the elbow. “What do you think I want?” The one time she’d seen Drake Merwin, he had made her think of Pack Leader: strong, hyper alert, dangerous. Now, the lean physique looked gaunt, the shark’s grin was a tight grimace, his eyes were red-rimmed. His stare, once languidly menacing, was now intense, burning hot. He looked like someone who had been tortured beyond endurance. “I’ll try,” Lana said. “You’ll do more than try,” he said. He convulsed in pain, face scrunched. A low, eerie moan escaped his throat. “I don’t know if I can grow a whole arm back,” Lana said. “Let me touch it.” “Not here,” he hissed. He motioned with his gun. “Through the back door.” “If you shoot me, I can’t help you,” Lana argued. “Can you heal dogs? How about if I blow his brains out? Can you heal that, freak?

I couldn't bear the thought of Alex looking at me like I was a freak. It was bad enough that the looked at me as Jack's sister.

Sorry, folks, but the maximum occupancy is seventy-five,” Albert said. Then he spotted Jack. “Jack, how’s it going?” “What? Oh, fine.” Jack was confused as to how to proceed. He didn’t want to wait in line if Brianna wasn’t even inside. “You look like a man with a question,” Albert prompted. “Well, I’m kind of looking for Brianna. We had this…it’s a…tech thing. You wouldn’t understand.” “Breeze is already inside.” One of the kids in the line said, “Of course she is, she’s a freak. They always get in.” A second kid nodded. “Yeah, the freaks don’t wait in lines. Bet she didn’t have to pay, either.” Albert said, “Hey, she got here a little before you guys did and she waited. And she paid.” Then to Jack. “Go ahead in.” “See?” the first kid crowed. “He’s one, too.” “Dude, he set up my sound system,” Albert said. “What have you done for me other than stand here and bust on me?

In this bubble of time, I wasn't a freak and he wasn't a bully, and we could be friends without anyone knowing, and at least for now, that was enough.

I think every writer has a little freak in ‘em.

Some long for acceptance while others fear for anything ordinary.

The hands of fate keep time on a heart-shaped clock.

Thats what happens to Snow in Texas, lady. It freaking MELTS!!" Leo Valdez- The Lost Hero

The food is ready,” Zil announced to loud cheers. “But we have something more important to do, first, before we can eat.” Groans. “We have to carry out some justice.” That earned a silent stare until Turk and Hank started raising their hands and yelling, showing the crowd how to act. “This mutant, this nonhuman scum here, this freak Hunter…” Zil pointed, arm stretched out, at his captive. “This chud deliberately murdered my best friend, Harry.” “Na troo,” Hunter said. His mouth still didn’t work right. Brain damage, Zil supposed, from the little knock on his head. Half of Hunter’s face drooped like it wasn’t quite attached right. It made it easier for the crowd of kids to sneer at him, and Hunter, yelling in his drooling retard voice, wasn’t helping his case. “He’s a killer!” Zil cried suddenly, smacking his fist into his palm. “A freak! A mutant!” he cried. “And we know what they’re like, right? They always have enough food. They run everything. They’re in charge and we’re all starving. Is that some kind of coincidence? No way.” “Na troo,” Hunter moaned again. “Take him!” Zil cried to Antoine and Hank. “Take him, the murdering mutant scum!” They seized Hunter by the arms. He could walk, but only by dragging one leg. They half carried, half marched him across the plaza. They dragged him up the church steps. “Now,” Zil said, “here is how we’re going to do this.” He waved his hand toward the rope that Lance was unspooling back through the plaza. An expectant pause. A dangerous, giddy feeling. The smell of the meat had them all crazy. Zil could feel it. “You all want some of this delicious venison?” They roared their assent. “Then you’ll all grab on to the rope.

The most interesting people are the unusual. No one writes about or discusses the average, the ordinary, or the common; they write about and discuss the weird, the mad and the different, so if you are one, even though the opinions of others are of no importance, you are, in their eyes, significant enough to notice and remember.

The intruders spoke no words as they rushed in. Five boys carrying baseball bats and tire irons. They wore an assortment of Halloween masks and stocking masks. But Derek knew who they were. “No! No!” he cried. All five boys wore bulky shooter’s earmuffs. They couldn’t hear him. But more importantly, they couldn’t hear Jill. One of the boys stayed in the doorway. He was in charge. A runty kid named Hank. The stocking pulled down over his face smashed his features into Play-Doh, but it could only be Hank. One of the boys, fat but fast-moving and wearing an Easter Bunny mask, stepped to Derek and hit him in the stomach with his aluminum baseball bat. Derek dropped to his knees. Another boy grabbed Jill. He put his hand over her mouth. Someone produced a roll of duct tape. Jill screamed. Derek tried to stand, but the blow to his stomach had winded him. He tried to stand up, but the fat boy pushed him back down. “Don’t be stupid, Derek. We’re not after you.” The duct tape went around and around Jill’s mouth. They worked by flashlight. Derek could see Jill’s eyes, wild with terror. Pleading silently with her big brother to save her. When her mouth was sealed, the thugs pulled off their shooter’s earmuffs. Hank stepped forward. “Derek, Derek, Derek,” Hank said, shaking his head slowly, regretfully. “You know better than this.” “Leave her alone,” Derek managed to gasp, clutching his stomach, fighting the urge to vomit. “She’s a freak,” Hank said. “She’s my little sister. This is our home.” “She’s a freak,” Hank said. “And this house is east of First Avenue. This is a no-freak zone.” “Man, come on,” Derek pleaded. “She’s not hurting anyone.” “It’s not about that,” a boy named Turk said. He had a weak leg, a limp that made it impossible not to recognize him. “Freaks with freaks, normals with normals. That’s the way it has to be.” “All she does is—” Hank’s slap stung. “Shut up. Traitor. A normal who stands up for a freak gets treated like a freak. Is that what you want?” “Besides,” the fat boy said with a giggle, “we’re taking it easy on her. We were going to fix her so she could never sing again. Or talk. If you know what I mean.” He pulled a knife from a sheath in the small of his back. “Do you, Derek? Do you understand?” Derek’s resistance died. “The Leader showed mercy,” Turk said. “But the Leader isn’t weak. So this freak either goes west, over the border right now. Or…” He let the threat hang there. Jill’s tears flowed freely. She could barely breathe because her nose was running. Derek could see that by the way she sucked tape into her mouth, trying for air. She would suffocate if they didn’t let her go soon. “Let me at least get her doll.

This was his first trip on the Ossifar Distana, his first real splash in life. Look what it got him. Mister Smiff liked anonymity. He kept a low profile, often traveling under assumed names, claiming to be anything from a banker to a (very) successful life insurance salesman. He’d never broken the law, at least not irreparably. He was quite generous, well liked, sponsoring many charities anonymously – which is why it was so surprising to find him floating face down in the private spa in his apartment, murdered. He had been murdered, unless it was a freak shaving accident. Those old razors weren’t called cut-throats for nothing. Yikes.

They'll use guns and they'll use words, and the worst part of all is that you might listen when they say you're a freak or a monster, and you might start to believe it. But they are lying.

Will your dad freak if I kiss you good-bye?” he asked.

Trust me, I am nuts!

Well, you're right. I'm a Freak." "Huh?" "I love being bullied. Being hit and kicked by others gets me totally excited. That's what kind of freak I am. Sorry if that bothers you.

When someone says "don’t freak," wouldn’t a person think that maybe they should freak?

Wherever Cool is, anyway, I missed it, and now I'm stuck observing these machinations or sex and status and dancing and parties and people sucking at each other under the bleacher seating like some kind of freak, when I'm not the freak; Rich is the freak. Clearly. When I grow up, that had better be understood and I had better be compensated, or I'm going to shoot myself in the head.

Yes, some people are against you, and there's still more OCD things we haven't discussed. But you're not a freak. Whenever you feel comfortable confiding in me, I'm here. Except when I'm unconscious, but I think you get that.

Ahhhhhhhh. There is nothing natural about natural childbirth. It is as close to a freak accident as anything I can think of. Why I picked a time like this to go off drugs?

All the freaky people make the beauty of the world.

And I was stuck here at Warrior Freaks R Us.