Best 23 quotes in «prom quotes» category

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    Even though I am going to miss out on my prom or I am going to miss out on walking across stage to accept my diploma, that's OK to me because I know I will have other perks in life.

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    I'd rather have a girl exposed to me than 25 women in prom dresses vying for a stranger.

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    For my prom I really wanted to wear a bright color - something that was going to pop and stand out.

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    I think that everybody, even if they had the best high school experience, there was something about high school. Whether you dropped a pass, or whether you flunked the test, or you didn't go to the prom.

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    I like the word OLD. Not senior, that's for proms. Older? Older than whom? 'Old' is honorable and ripe

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    I'll take being on Baywatch over being Prom Queen any day.

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    I was pretty much a homebody; didn't really go to school dances, never went to a prom. I was a bit of a loner, a geek.

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    I was working in theater, so I didn't get to go to my prom.

    • prom quotes
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    I went to prom with my boyfriend, but after the dance he left me at a party all by myself. It was awful!

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    Most glorious night! Thou wert not sent for slumber!

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    The one broken window that permanently wouldn't roll up had destroyed her perfectly curled blond prom-hair, and by the time we got to the gym she looked like Marie Antoinette with bedhead.

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    'Prom' is a movie that follows a bunch of high-schoolers' lives leading up to the prom, the climax of the movie. It focuses all their struggles and the social pressures that prom creates on their lives.

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    When my senior prom was happening, I was in Malta filming 'Troy.

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    I've never been to a prom or a dance; so it's funny, because we have dances on the show, and I'll be like, 'Oh yay! It's my school dance!'

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    Saying his name out loud is a reminder of everything I've lost. "My boyfriend. I guess he's still my boyfriend." I touch my infinity necklace. "I don't know when I'll see him again. And who's he going to take to prom?" Ayesha's mouth drops open, and she tries to hold in a laugh. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to laugh. I love how prom is on the list right after freedom and breathing." "Oh my God. That's totally ridiculous, right? There are these moments when I still think this place isn't real- like it's a horrible dream. And for that minute, my mind feels free to think about, like, prom." "I get it. We have to have those moments of remembering that we're human and thinking of regular stuff, or else the weight of this place would crush us. Like, have you seen Footloose?

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    We had to decide: Do we want to do Saturday Night or go to our Senior Prom? We opted for Saturday Night Live.

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    My name is CRPS, or so they say But I actually go by; a few different names. I was once called causalgia, nearly 150 years ago And then I had a new name It was RSD, apparently so. I went by that name because the burn lived inside of me. Now I am called CRPS, because I have so much to say I struggle to be free. I don't have one symptom and this is where I change, I attack the home of where I live; with shooting/burning pains. Depression fills the mind of the body I belong, it starts to speak harsh to self, negativity growing strong. Then I start to annoy them; with the issues with sensitivity, You'd think the pain enough; but no, it wants to make you aware of its trembling disability. I silently make my move; but the screams are loud and clear, Because I enter your physical reality and you can't disappear. I confuse your thoughts; I contain apart of your memory, I cover your perspective, the fog makes it sometimes unbearable to see. I play with your temperature levels, I make you nervous all the time - I take away your independance and take away your pride. I stay with you by the day & I remind you by the night, I am an awful journey and you will struggle with this fight. Then there's a side to me; not many understand, I have the ability to heal and you can be my friend. Help yourself find the strength to fight me with all you have, because eventually I'll get tired of making you grow mad. It will take some time; remember I mainly live inside your brain, Curing me is hard work but I promise you, You can beat me if you feed love to my pain. Find the strength to carry on and feed the fears with light; hold on to the seat because, like I said, it's going to be a fight. But I hope to meet you, when your healthy and healed, & you will silenty say to me - I did this, I am cured is this real? That day could possibly come; closer than I want- After all I am a disease and im fighting for my spot. I won't deny from my medical angle, I am close to losing the " incurable " battle.

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    A bout of nerves crept up my spine and I tilted my head at him, hoping I was imagining the heat spreading over my cheeks to spare myself the embarrassment of blushing merely because he was piercing me with those chocolate eyes that I had never noticed were so amazing. “What are you staring at?” “Can I take you to prom?” He asked me. Just like that, no hesitation or insecurity to be found in his tone or facial expression. His confidence caught me completely off guard and I gaped at him in a stunned silence for almost twenty full seconds. His expression never faltered, though. He just watched my mouth work to make some sort of intelligible sound, waiting for my answer as he oozes at least the illusion of complete calm. “Huh?” I blurted in an embarrassingly high-pitched squeak. I sounded like a chipmunk and his smirk made me turn a deep shade of red. “Um… Uh… Prom?” I managed, eloquent as ever. He laughed at me fondly, nodding his head. “Yeah, prom.” Shock was not a deep enough word to describe what I was feeling over this proposal. This was Jim, the kid who swore up and down he would rather gouge out his eyes with a grapefruit spoon than put on dress clothes and he was offering to take me to a place where flannel shirts and ratty jeans were unacceptable and dance me around a room in uncomfortable shoes all night long? This couldn’t be real life. But it was real life. I was sitting in the car with him with my mouth hanging open like a fish waiting for him to laugh and tell me he was kidding, that there was no way he was going to put on a tie for my benefit, and he was sitting right there, a slightly nervous look crossing his features over my dumbstruck expression. Breathe, Lizzie, I scolded myself. Answer him! Say yes! You could have knocked me over with a feather and I was very relieved to be sitting down in a car so I could prevent anything humiliating from happening. Having already proved I could not trust my voice to answer him I jerkily nodded my head as my mouth grew into a Cheshire cat sized smile. I turned my face away and hid behind my hair as if I could hide my excitement from the world. Jim was visibly euphoric and that only made me want to squeal even more. He was excited to take me out. How cool was that?

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    Ben, there are more important things going on,” I answered. “DESIGNATED DRIVER!” “What?” “You’re my designated driver! Yes! You are so designated! I love that you answered! That’s so awesome! I have to be home by six! And I designate you to get me there! YESSSSSSS!” “Can’t you just spend the night there?” I asked. “NOOOO! Booooo. Booo on Quentin. Hey, everybody! Boooo Quentin!” And then I was booed. “Everybody’s drunk. Ben drunk. Lacey drunk. Radar drunk. Nobody drive. Home by six. Promised Mom. Boo, Sleepy Quentin! Yay, Designated Driver! YESSSS!

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

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    So that's how we end up helping Aviva pick out a male escort. Even Darcy is impressed with Eugene's organization; each profile in the boy binder has two pictures, a head shot and a full-body shot, and lists essential information: age, school, height, weight, extracurriculars, hobbies, and dance ability (which ranges from "occasional Dance Dance Revolution participation" to "so good he could back up the Biebs").

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    You look incredible, Kavanagh,” Quinn whispered close to my ear. “Are you trying to kill me?” “Ssshhh,” I hissed. “They’re going to hear you.” “I can’t tell my date she’s beautiful?” I turned my head. “No. No, you can’t.

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