Best 354 quotes in «high school quotes» category

Maybe it’s a symptom of a small town—and Gentry certainly was that—but for some, even after graduation, high school never really ends.

Michael Delaney used to be fat. Not puppy-padding fat—bursting-frankfurts-in-a-boiling-pot fat. He remembered gym class and swimming lessons. All of the thin guys who could be divided into one of two groups: those who looked but did not comment and those who looked and commented, with enthusiasm... Fat kids are like alcoholics; they always have excuses.

My group has to do the Eighth Amendment, which is the one about cruel and unusual punishment. I'm not sure why group work isn't counted in that amendment.

Most of my friends were in band, and most of my free time during school was spent within twenty feet of the band room

My dad used to say, ‘This is what your right arm’s for, son,’” John said. “This is the time and these are the people and I’d give my right arm to be a light, a comfort, to them. I know you would, too. In whatever form it takes. Use these materials and make something great. Do it on faith, knowing you probably won’t be around to see how the story ends.

No, it's okay. It was just … weird. No one has ever called me hot before.” “Really?” Trace frowned. “Well, that changes right now.” He ceased walking, stopping in the dead center of the pathway and reached for my hands. “Jade Cannon, you are totally hot!” Trace announced loudly, and people nearby stopped to stare at us after his outburst. I couldn't help but laugh.

My love life couldn't be more nonexistent if Julius was all all-girls' boarding school with a moat full of alligators around it.

No man wants his daughter to be the kind of girl whom he liked in high school.

Nobody wants to give up a weekend-long excuse to dress up and attempt to outshine one another.

Not one thought entered my head that did not seem disloyal. I was ashamed, seeing their pride close up, as if for the first time, at how little I had accomplished, how much I had failed to do at St. Paul's. Somewhere in the last two years I had forgotten my mission. What had I done, I kept thinking, that was worthy of their faith? How had I helped my race? How had I prepared myself for a meaningful future? ... They were right: only a handful of us got this break. I wanted to shout at them that I had squandered it. Now that it's all over, hey, I'm not your girl! I couldn't do it.

Oh, man,' Beck breathed. 'Check out the car.' It was white with a black top. The hood looked as as long as a football field. 'Sure is big,' was all I could manage to say. Beck gazed longingly at the beast, his eyes glowing in appreciation. 'You know what that is?' 'Uh, no. Should I?' 'It's a fully restored, two-door 1973 Monte Carlo. Muscle car, big time.' 'Bet it's hard to park.

Now whenever I left class to go to the boys' room, I worried that I would end up on the blue tiled floor in a puddle of piss and blood.

On Books - Books are the ultimate accessory; they go with everything. Carpets wear down, drapery fades, statuary chips, wallpaper tears and appliances become obsolete and out of date. Movie posters simply scream “Poor high school grad”. But no one ever looks at books and scoffs, “Books? Really? What are you, a college professor?

On a nightstand in a teenager’s room, a glass vase filled with violets leans precariously against a wall. The only thing saving the vase from a thousand-piece death on the hardwood floor is the groove in the nightstand’s surface that catches the bottom of vase, and of course the wall itself. The violets, nearly a week old, droop in the light of a waning gibbous moon. Wrinkled petals are already piling up on the floor between the nightstand and the wall, and a girl only six days sixteen stares at the dying bouquet from her bed.

On time for us was thirty minutes before actually started, because the half hour before the first bell was the highlight of our social calendars: standing outside the side door that led into the band room and just talking.

One would think, however, that sharing a name might offer a thin string of connection. It was always a thrill to meet someone who had the same name as you, and unlike a lot of things, this was a thrill that never quite faded.

Oooohhhh, you’re one of those kids,” Whitney said, suddenly cracking up. “What in the hell is so damn funny? One of what kids?” “You had a horrible high school experience, didn’t you?” “High school is where demons go to eat little children.” “Carter!” She erupted into body-shaking laughter, rolling from left to right. “Oh my God, you are too much. This isn’t high school anymore!” “Um, hello, have you seen the movie Carrie?

One day soon you'll be in the world, and you'll have so many options you won't know what to do with them. Everyone will fall in love with you, because you're so beautiful and so charming, and you'll look back on high school as such a tiny blip.

Pete Berman sized up his competition like a predator lining up its prey. Gerry Williams dribbled once with his left hand, stopped on a dime, and nailed an open 15-footer. He had played on the Fellingwood Varsity Basketball Team since his freshman year, and was now a 16 year-old boy in a man's body. Pete sat on a board of the old splinter-ridden, wooden stands fixed on Gerry, but he was unable to defend his turf. His team was losing badly again, and the waiting was pure agony.

Our lives are forever changed because I was too much of a coward to really go for...to really..to really be who I wanted to be.

Parents don't really know how to help. Some aren't prepared for this new version of their high-achieving kid: doubting, sad, tired, confused- emotions they may have rarely dealt with in high school. And isn't college supposed to be even better than high school? When your child is more mature, self-sufficient, and otherwise flourishing just as she always has been, except now at an even higher level?

Perhaps the only thing worse than learning a secret is being kept from you is knowing you aren't the type to let it go.

Please, God, please, don't let me be normal! (high school yearbook)

Please your mother: just lie around upstairs and smoke some pot. Be a revolutionary.

Pretty much everyone hates high school. It’s a measure of your humanity, I suspect. If you enjoyed high school, you were probably a psychopath or a cheerleader. Or possibly both.

Really?' Shep scoffed and rolled his eyes. 'You can't be serious! Whitey, you come from the streets of North Philly, and you're scared of a bunch of backwoods butt-monkeys that thinks that an awesome Saturday night consists of drinking the cheapest beer they can steal from their daddy's huntin' coolers, tippin' some cows, stealin' a tracter, takin' it for a joy ride then leaving it on the 9th green of the golf course, and getting a knobber from one of the skankleaders. Seriously, Whitey, you have issues that I can't even begin to imagine.

See men for miles around give nature what she needs, rivers and rivers and rivers of it. You exhale with perfect happiness. Nature turned you down in high school. Now you can come in her eye.

See, the thing is, I had a little misunderstanding with Trent Gibson in Pre-Calculus earlier. I dropped my textbook on his face—accidentally, while we were discussing some…equations—and he thought I was trying to brain him. So of course, he narked to Shoemaker, and apparently accidents are grounds for disciplinary action these days.

She had lived in eight different countries growing up and had visited dozens of others. To most people, this sounded cool, and in some ways, Ayers knows, it was cool, or parts of it were. But since humans are inclined to want what they don't have, she longed to live in America, preferably the solid, unchanging, undramatic Midwest, and attend a real high school, the kind shown in movies, complete with a football team, cheerleaders, pep rallies, chemistry labs, summer reading lists, hall passes, proms, detentions, assemblies, fund-raisers, lockers, Spanish clubs, marching bands, and the dismissal bell.

She didn’t see me because of the reflection on the store windows, and she wouldn’t know me in this car anyway. In fact, she probably wouldn’t know me with shaggy hair and the beginnings of a beard. So I sat for a minute, watching her dusting bookshelves, either talking to herself or singing. Her feather duster had become a prop in whatever scene she had going. She looked heart-stoppingly, breathtakingly beautiful, my Meg.

Several of the girls at the party had had sex, something which sounded appealing but only if it could happen with blindfolds in a time warp plus amnesia

She looked into the eyes of many of them as they passed away, like some sort of angel of death. Some were frightened, some relieved, most just confused. She served as the arbiter of their passage, an earthly Charon. Or perhaps a Valkyrie, carrying fallen heroes to Valhalla. But she’d seen no heroes, no one worthy of Valhalla.

Since the teachers weren't picking, I ended up with a boy with bad body odour. 'You should wear deodorant,' I said to him. 'And you should shut your trap,' he replied.

She’s fulfilled her obligation, assuaged her conscience by finding me in the hallway and giving me the chance to freak out, and I’ve played my role too, by remaining calm, pretending to be okay, and therefore giving her permission to cross me off her things-to-do list. Now she can move on, and I can too. Once you understand how adults are controlled by the system, manipulating them is elementary.

Silence has always been my default mode—my best defense against the rest of the world.

Sometimes, things just happen. Things that will change everything. Things that change you.

Some secrets are never supposed to be discovered. But if you're real lucky, when you're least expecting it, the most incriminating secrets will show themselves.

So in order to understand everything that happened, you have to start from the premise that high school sucks. Do you accept that premise? Of course you do. It is a universally acknowledged truth that high school sucks. In fact, high school is the where we are first introduced to the basic existential question of life: How is it possible to exist in a place that sucks so bad?

So strange that David Drucker of all people was the only one who said the exact right thing: Your dad shouldn't have died. That's really unfair.

Somewhere along the way of my illustrious high school career I traded my humanity for a prison of popularity.

Sophomore Lucy Karate took a deep breath and concentrated her moss green eyes on the black squiggles in front of her. The sheet music on the page was exactly the same it had been for the past ten months. The difference wasn’t the music; it was the day. This was the day before auditions – her last opportunity to practice before her fate for the next school year was ultimately decided.

So what if you hurt him? He'll hurt you. You'll hurt each other. That's what love is about, right? You can't know what'll happen till you actually try it. Don't try to make excuses like you're protecting him.

Stuck in high school for the rest of my natural life. Talk about hell.

Swish,” the net sounded like the blast of a cannon, signaling the game was tied at 64. Dave then saw the second shot in his mind before even going into his pre-shot routine. The ball tickled the front rim, brushed against the backboard, and then dropped through the net. The home crowd erupted as Dave backpedaled toward the opposing rim. Central High attempted a last-second shot that fell short into Breslin's hands. The fans rushed onto the floor as the number two train came roaring into the station, bringing Dave back from his glorious past back into the oppressive heat of the present.

Teammates...were fine things. Piling onto the bus before the game, edgy with shared nerves, egging one another on with the genial, meaningless phrase C'mon, you guys!, collapsing back into the same seats for the ride home—the sense of striving in accord had been a sweet part of high school. Possibly the sweetest. But the camaraderie had not survived graduation, or even the off-seasons. Her teammates, passing in the school corridors in winter or spring, were downshifted to nodding acquaintances who had once been close, that past connection floating off like cotton candy on the tongue.

The Colonel ran ahead of me, gleeful at his ejection, and I jogged after him, trailing in his wake. I wanted to be one of those people who have streaks to maintain, who scorch the ground with their intensity. But for now, at least I knew such people,and they needed me, just like comets need tails.

Thanet is having a moment,” I said, leaning forward so Quinn could see him. “What’s wrong, man?” Quinn said. “Were you not aware high school dances suck? That they always have sucked and they will continue sucking as long as the world turns?

The angel of death can hardly have friends. And the prom, what about Danny? He can hardly have a Valkyrie for his date.

The ideas of beawolf ain’t gonna go nowhere.” <—My first complete sentence to an MLA style paper about Beowulf. My English teachers in high school changed and edited my trajectory with my writing and with . . . my life. Writing is a process like life. We’re all in a process of becoming. Remember that. Make mistakes and keep your voice. And, take the guidance along the way.

The corners of Bree’s mouth were tilted up into a huge grin. It was her I’ve just seen a super duper hot guy grin. Hot?” Raine asked, already knowing the answer. Bree nodded. “Hell to the yeah!” Like, Alex Pettyfer hot?” Dude, he puts Alex Pettyfer to shame!