Best 135 quotes in «boy quotes» category

One small boy was all it took to upset the universe

Our physical body knows it cannot function without physical water. So, too, our spiritual life should realize that it can't function without the "living water" of Gods Word.

People say I'm not much of a girl either," Tiger Lily said. She thought of Tik Tok, who was fond of saying that people were all bits of each thing, boy and girl.

Please allow me the honour of allowing you to bestow upon me a blowjob.

One thing at a time,' said the Boy. 'You must be patient. This is a day of hope and wild revenge. Do not interrupt me. I am a courier from another world. I bring you golden words. Listen!' said the Boy. 'Where I come from there is no more fear. But there is a roaring and a bellowing and a cracking of bones. And sometimes there is silence when, lolling on your thrones, your slaves adore you.

She'd hurt him, but she'd attempted everything in her power to make things right. She'd shown him in a thousand ways that she was honorable and strong and generous and very human, maybe even more vividly human than anyone he'd ever known.

She’d never seen a boy with hands like that, with long, delicate fingers, beautiful but still masculine. His fingernails were long too, almost crystalline, tapered to points. They were the kind of hands you’d expect to see under lace cuffs, like Mozart or something.

She's an old book covered in dust and he is the boy who loves exploring literature that hasn't been touched in years.

Small-town boy meets big-time evil.

So, apart from casting runes, what other hobbies do you have? Forbidden rituals, human sacrifices, torturing? –

Soft hearts make the universe worth living in.

So it was a crossroads summer, when the universe seemed to stand perilously still like an egg wobbling on a precipice, a regular rite of passage summer that saw us traverse the hazardous divide between the illusions of boyhood and the far more pernicious deceptions of maturity, et cetera.

Some people’s self-esteem was secretly improved when they discovered that their then-lovers had killed themselves over them.

Strength and victory... What he would never praise himself for, but whose loss was his most obsessive fear.

Tears don’t make you a girl, but they sure make you human.

Tears are the biggest weapon used by every girl against the boys with a success rate of hundred percent.

Teenage guys are not supposed to be concerned like this. They are supposed to tell fart jokes, and comment on girls' boobs, and not really pay attention when something is bothering a friend. It's really, really difficult when they convince you they can be something else entirely - a human being, one who truly cares, especially when they're less yours and more someone else's.

Ophelia,' said the boy. He said it very quietly. She didn't like the way he said that at all. He sounded sad and as though he expected more from her. 'And how do you know my name anyways?' she said. 'I never told you it, not once.' 'I heard it once, a long time ago.' He was full of mysterious sentences like that.

Teaching a boy to be a man is the primary job of a father.

That's the thing about hands. I love to hold hands because it brings comfort to me to know and feel I'm holding onto the person I love.

The good ones put your character to the flame and burn away all the rest of the shit until you come out a better you.

The loving boy took a picture of her with his eyes and he framed it with his heart.

That's the thing about hands, I love to hold hands because it brings comfort to me to feel I'm holding onto someone I love.

That was how I met her, in a bar in Saint-Germain-des-Prés, she was drinking and watching, and that was why I liked her, I thought she would be fun to have fun with.

The boy raised the can to his nose and smelled, his lips wrinkling back as if he'd caught the business end of a skunk.

The little boy inside me gave my power away out of fear of being abandoned, The wise man inside me took it back and walked beside him...

The real strength of a man is not in the size of his muscles, but in the size of his heart.

There are many fish in the sea, but never let a good one swim away.

There is so much woman in many a girl and too much boy in many a man.

There’s a wound most troubled boys share, which, at its core, comes from the feeling that they don’t have their father’s unconditional love.

There's something about a boy who isn't allowed to wander off. There's something about a boy in a sky who has limits.

The man is angry, the man Is destructive, the man wants more. The woman is more, the woman is all.

The ocean filled the footprints where a boy and cat had stood.

There are tales that rise like the early sun, breathe, and take on a life of their own. There are ones that flow quietly and effortlessly until time forsakes them, but there are others that fight until they find their way to the edge of reality, as if coming straight out of a dream.

There was a tinge of evil to it, a lot of sex, but under that was a little boy peeking out, an uncertain little boy. That was it. That was the attraction. Nothing is more appealing than a handsome man who is also uncertain of himself.

THE THREE BEES by Suzy Kassem A young boy once asked A wealthy beekeeper: “What is the secret of Your success?” The beekeeper simply smiled And replied: “To be successful, One has to be one of three bees: The queen bee, The hardest working bee, Or the bee that does not fit in. One success is inherited, And the next one is earned. While the last one is Self-sought, Self-served, And happens on its own Terms.” “And which bee are you?” Asked the boy. The beekeeper then wiped The sweat from his head And said: “The last may seem the riskiest, But the glory of achievement Is the most rewarding. Freedom always comes at a high cost, But only when you are Your own boss, Can you truly Afford it.” (Suzy Kassem Poetry)

The very first thing I saw was his eyes, bluer and brighter than the sea itself. They gazed at me, so dazzling, and for an instant I couldn't even feel the pain. I was too overcome by the handsomeness of this sandy haired boy

The walk to school was as long and treacherous as every other day. There was a humming in the restless summer air, and the boy of silver planes and ivory lines ducked his head and would rather listen to the secrets hidden inside the cracks of the pavement than watch how the clouds would sink into the ocean like boats.

There was no fear of sandpaper earth, no sense of danger from a bare-skinned spill, for the boy was a child—a six-foot, one-inch growing child who knew nothing of accident, injury, dismemberment, death—who would study those lessons tomorrow, thank you, but not today. Today, it would be sufficient to be wild and free.

The shadow raised its arm high in the air and I knew - I knew before I heard my name - that he'd found me again, keeper of the promise he couldn't make, the one I had marked with my blood and who had marked me with his tears, a Silencer all right, my silencer, stumbling toward me in the impossibly pure light of a late winter's sunrise promising spring.

This boy wore the ocean in his eyes, green-gray-blue, ever shifting, and I recognized him immediately. Knew before he said another word that he was as dangerous as he was beautiful.

To know a boy, ask his mother. To know a man, ask his wife.

Two blades clashed, ringing like a bell. Like all small boys, Philip thought his father was invincible; and this was the moment when he learned the truth.

Was this, too, part of growing up? Was it facing the bad things you’d done as well as the good, and knowing all your mistakes had consequences? Peter made mistakes all the time— he was thoughtless; he hurt people. But it never troubled him, not for a moment. He forgot all about it in an instant. That was being a boy.

They locked me up with a boy. A boy. Dear God. They're trying to kill me.

When a boy feels as if no one cares about him, or as if he will never amount to anything, he truly believes it doesn’t matter what he does.

What does a freelance researcher do?” “Researches things.” He winks at me and helps lift my bike onto a cobblestone walkway. “It’s not an interesting or particularly sexy job. Nobody wants to date a perpetual studier, but I bet there’s an army of guys crawling over each other to get to you.” More like crawling away. “You’re ridiculous. Who’d ever want to date me?” “Someone like you? There’d be a line at your door as soon as work got out.” “Oh, would you be in the line?” Sarcasm. Not a real question. I don’t care if he responds—heat burns my toes, ears, and everything in-between—well, maybe I care a little. Jack pauses and gazes into me. “Yeah … I’m in the line … and I’m better than all the other guys so you should really pick me. I’m funny. I’m strong, like, I could sweep you off your feet and run without breaking a sweat. I can also blow milk through my nose, but only if I’m drunk and the milk is warm.

When a boy leads a boy, he stays a boy. When a man leads a boy, he becomes a man.

When do you become a man? When you become your own man. When other men trust you to do a man's work. Trust you with their name, their reputation, their thoughts. Trust you to watch their backs and trust you with their lives.

When i was a child, i liked tasting any candy i happened to see, but as i grew older, i realized those are a great meal to the worms in my innards. Will you shun old habits or nay? That's the question.