Clucked Up Quotes

Where did you say you were from, girl?" Uniloma asked gruffly one morning. The vessel was far out to sea, giving a wide berth to the coastline of western Holt and any bold pirate vessel.

"From Kai."

"And your name?"

"Taoshira." Tashi did not risk giving her title again but neither was she going to lie.

Uniloma clucked in irritation.

"My family and friends call me Tashi."

"I'll call you Tashi then. I'm not using a princess's name for you."

Tashi sighed. There was no point arguing. The truth would come out when they returned to Rama. It would only be an unseemly squabble if she pressed her claim here.

That's if anyone recognizes me, Tashi thought glumly. I'm not sure I'd knowme either. I might have to stand naked before my servants to prove my point.

She smiled at the idea. No, I'm definitely not the same person if I can laugh about that. ~ Julia Golding

Don't come any closer!" Scarlet yelled. The chicken clucked and dawdled away. "I will shoot, you know."
"I know." A flicker of kindness passed over him and he pointed at his temple. "You'll want to aim for the head. That usually makes for a fatal shot. Or, if you're feeling shaky, the torso. It's a larger target."
"Your head looks pretty big from here. ~ Marissa Meyer

There was another pause and then Bastien clucked and snapped, "Dammit, Thomas! Inez is one of my best employees."
He pulled the phone away from his ear to peer at it with disbelief, and then slapped it back to his head. "What the hell has that got to do with anything?"
"Well, if you had to find your lifemate, couldn't it have been someone else's employee. I'm going to lose her now. She'll want to be with you and come to Canada and
~ Lynsay Sands

If you know so much,then tell me of Lily or are you too swayed by her beauty?"
"Aye,she's beautiful, but also complicated and young.She is an....an opportunist,but not necessarily a selfish one."
"Ha.She can be. Lily's world revolves only around her."
Tyr chuckled and the sound sent ripples of awareness down her arms. "I'd rather talk about you, Lady Edythe."
"I'd rather not."
"Lady Edythe," Tyr repeated, drawing out her name. His forehead wrinkled. "No. Don't like it. A girl like you needs a nickname."
She hadn't been a "girl" for several years,and Edythe was irked that he saw her as such. "That's one thing I'll never want."
"That's a shame.Everyone should have a nickname."
"Really,then what's yours?"
Tyr licked his lips and in a low voice, lied, "Bachelor."
"Fitting," Edythe retorted. "I doubt with your type of self-serving charm, too many women vie to change that status."
Tyr clucked his tongue, completely unfazed by her ridiculous barb. "Ed,I think.Little and sweet...just like you."
"Thoin," Edythe hissed and moved to walk away,not dreaming for a second that he would know Gaelic and understand what she meant.
"Bauchle," Tyr chirped back in retaliation. Edythe spun around, her jaw open, but before she could retort, he added, this time with a Scottish brogue, "Ed,even if I didn't know my own language, certain words are known far and wide, and "ass" is certainly one of them."
Straightening, she puffed out ~ Michele Sinclair

Greta was squinting at the Pants. "Are those yours?" she asked.
Bridget nodded.
"Would you like me to wash 'em for you? A little bleach would clean that whole mess right off them."
Bridget looked aghast. "No! No, thank you" she cradled them protectively. "I like them how they are."
Greta clucked and shook her head. "To each, her own," she muttered.
You have no magic in you, Bridget thought. ~ Ann Brashares

Vanessa," he murmured.
I stared at him. I knew instantly what he meant.
I had been thinking the same thing all along.
Remembering the horrible moment we spilled Vanessa's groceries.
"Yes," I agreed. "I didn't want to admit it. I didn't want to believe it. But Vanessa did this to us. Vanessa is BLUUUUCK BLUCCCK turning us into chickens."
"Chicken chicken," he clucked. ~ R.L. Stine

It's not about fucking," she asserted as we clucked nervously over her diagram. "It's about our species. We need to breed. ~ Andrew Miller

must have looked forsaken standing there because she clucked her tongue against the roof of her mouth and said, "Poor Miss Sarah." I did so despise the attachment of Poor to my name. Binah had been muttering Poor Miss Sarah like an incantation since I was four. ~ Sue Monk Kidd

You do have money, don't you? You never paid your fare yesterday. It's six pounds, eight. If you haven't the coin, I'll have no choice but to hold you for ransom once we reach Tortola."
Her fare. Sophia sipped her tea with relief. If Mr. Grayson was this concerned over six pounds, he surely had no idea he was harboring a runaway heiress with nearly one hundred times that amount strapped beneath her stays. She suppressed a nervous laugh. "Yes, of course I can pay my passage. You'll have your money today, Mr. Grayson."
"Gray."
"Mr. Grayson," she said, her voice and nerves growing thin, "I scarcely think that my moment of…of indisposition gives you leave to make such an intimate request, that I address you by your Christian name. I certainly shall not."
He clucked softly, wrapping the handkerchief around his fingers. With hypnotic tenderness, he reached out, drawing the fabric across her temple.
"Now, sweetheart-surely my parents can be credited with greater imagination than you imply. Christening me 'Gray Grayson'?" He chuckled low in his throat. "Everyone aboard this ship calls me Gray. Sorry to disappoint you, but it's no particular privilege. There's but one woman on earth permitted to address me by my Christian name."
"Your mother?"
He grinned again. "No."
She blinked.
"Oh, now don't look so disappointed," he said. "It's my sister."
Sophia slanted her gaze to her lip, cursing herself for playing into his charm. If the sight ~ Tessa Dare

She was perfectly normal."
"What do you mean?"
I turned around again. "What do you mean, what do I mean?"
I clucked my tongue in disgust. "You know, normal. Happy, healthy. Someone with friends and family. Shelley had all kinds of friends. She was popular."
"So if you're not popular, you're not normal?"
"I didn't say that." Did I? ~ Julie Anne Peters

Well, well, he clucked, narrow-set eyes peering at her around a hooked nose. "If she stays with this ship, I might stop protesting. Can't say I'd turn down a taste of that tart."
Her cheeks burning, Sophia turned to Gray. To her horror, she watched as his mouth tipped in a smirk. Almost a smile. Curse him, he even chuckled as he strolled back across the deck to face Mallory.
Was that how he saw her now, too? As a tart? Just another of his countless paramours? They might as well have been right back in that seedy tavern on the Gravesend quay, when she'd mistaken him for a gentleman-and he'd looked at her and seen only a bit of skirt.
"Mr. Mallory," he said, striking his habitual pose of arrogant swagger, "I'd like to thank you."
"For what?"
"For giving me an excuse to do this."
Gray swung his fist, putting the full force of his body behind the blow. The punch connected with Mallory's jaw, sending him reeling against the ship's rail. Before Sophia could even draw breath, Gray hit him again, this time delivering a solid blow to the stomach. With a choked groan, Mallory doubled over his boots and crumpled to the deck.
"I told you, I don't like violence," Gray forced out, shaking his hand as he stood over Mallory's writhing form. "But I'm not above using it. ~ Tessa Dare

I don't see why you're not just going for this.' Dovey looked her in the eyes, in the mirror. 'You are a rocket. You go for thing, Dellarobia. That is you. When did you ever not?'
Dellarobia shut her eyes. 'When there was nothing out there to land on, I guess.'
'Now, see,' Dovey clucked, 'that's a woman thing. Men and kids get to just light out and fly, without even worrying about what comes next. ~ Barbara Kingsolver

Thea was still under the belief that public opinion could be placated; that if you clucked often enough, the hens would mistake you for one of themselves. ~ Willa Cather

She took a small device out of her bag, slipped it into her pocket.
"Micro recorder?" Roarke clucked his tongue. "I believe that's illegal. Not to mention rude."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"And unnecessary," he added. He turned his wrist, tapped a tiny button on the side of his watch. "This one is much more efficient. I should know. I manufacture both brands." He smiled as the car stopped at the edge of a small clearing ~ J.D. Robb

Remy looked down at the blood disinterestedly and clucked his tongue. "Maudit! I just stole this shirt," he murmured as he pulled at the sleeve and examined the growing stain. "Stitches must have come out. ~ Abigail Roux

You were expecting to see Drake Junior?" He clucked his tongue at her. "You haven't even bought me dinner yet. ~ Jennifer Turner

Filth, filth, filth, from morning to night. I know they're poor but they could wash. Water is free and soap is cheap. Just look at that arm, nurse.'
The nurse looked and clucked in horror. Francie stood there with the hot flamepoints of shame burning her face. The doctor was a Harvard man, interning at the neighborhood hospital. Once a week, he was obliged to put in a few hours at one of the free clinics. He was going into a smart practice in Boston when his internship was over. Adopting the phraseology of the neighborhood, he referred to his Brooklyn internship as going through Purgatory, when he wrote to his socially prominent fiancee in Boston.
The nurse was as Williamsburg girl... The child of poor Polish immigrants, she had been ambitious, worked days in a sweatshop and gone to school at night. Somehow she had gotten her training... She didn't want anyone to know she had come from the slums.
After the doctor's outburst, Francie stood hanging her head. She was a dirty girl. That's what the doctor meant. He was talking more quietly now asking the nurse how that kind of people could survive; that it would be a better world if they were all sterilized and couldn't breed anymore. Did that mean he wanted her to die? Would he do something to make her die because her hands and arms were dirty from the mud pies?
She looked at the nurse... She thought the nurse might say something like:
Maybe this little girl's mother works and didn't have time to wash he ~ Betty Smith

Violet sniffed and shot him a haughty look. "I should not be so quick to mock me, my son. I merely point out the truth. You should be down on your hands and knees thanking your maker every day that you don't have to marry an heiress. Most men don't have the luxury of free will when it comes to marriage, you know."
Anthony just smiled. "I should be thanking my maker? Or my mother?"
"You are a beast."
He clucked her gently under the chin. "A beast you raised."
"And it wasn't an easy task," she muttered. "I can assure you of that."

-Violet & Anthony ~ Julia Quinn

He got into the tub and ran a little cold water. Then he lowered his thin, hairy body into the just-right warmth and stared at the interstices between the tiles. Sadness--he had experienced that emotion ten thousand times. As exhalation is to inhalation, he thought of it as the return from each thrust of happiness.

Lazily soaping himself, he gave examples.

When he was five and Irwin eight, their father had breezed into town with a snowstorm and come to see them where they lived with their grandparents in the small Connecticut city. Their father had been a vagabond salesman and was considered a bum by people who should know. But he had come into the closed, heated house with all the gimcrack and untouchable junk behind glass and he had smelled of cold air and had had snow in his curly black hair. He had raved about the world he lived in, while the old people, his father and mother, had clucked sadly in the shadows. And then he had wakened the boys in the night and forced them out into the yard to worship the swirling wet flakes, to dance around with their hands joined, shrieking at the snow-laden branches. Later, they had gone in to sleep with hearts slowly returning to bearable beatings. Great flowering things had opened and closed in Norman's head, and the resonance of the wild man's voice had squeezed a sweet, tart juice through his heart. But then he had wakened to a gray day with his father gone and the world walking gingerly over the somber crust of ~ Edward Lewis Wallant

Lord Francis sighed. "When you get back to Bedlam, Soph," he said, "ask them to reserve a room for me, will you? There's a good girl. I am going to be needing it soon." Sophia clucked her tongue and spurred her horse to a canter. Lord Francis shook his head and went after her. ~ Mary Balogh

But the girl shook her head, clucked her tongue in distaste. 'If I marry him, my children will be ugly,' she declared.

That night, lying next to Edward in his room, Yaw listened as his best friend told him that he had explained to the girl that you could not inherit a scar.

Now, nearing his fiftieth birthday, Yaw no longer knew if he believed this was true. ~ Yaa Gyasi