Naughty Or Nice List Quotes

COVID-19, are you going to be naughty or nice to me? ~ Steven Magee

Such a tough life. This is not the easy way."
"No," Penn agreed, "but I'm not sure easy is what I want for the kids anyway."
She looked up at him. "Why the hell not?"
"I mean, if we could have everything, sure. If we can have it all, yeah. I wish them easy, successful, fun-filled lives, crowned with good friends, attentive lovers, heaps of money, intellectual stimulation, and good views out the window. I wish them eternal beauty, international travel, and smart things to watch on tv. But if I can't have everything, if I only get a few, I'm not sure easy makes my wish list."
"Really?"
"Easy is nice. But its not as good as getting to be who you are or stand up for what you believe in," said Penn. "Easy is nice. But I wonder how often it leads to fulfilling work or partnership or being."
"Easy probably rules out having children," Rosie admitted.
"Having children, helping people, making art, inventing anything, leading the way, tackling the world's problems, overcoming your own. I don't know. Not much of what I value in our lives is easy. But there's not much of it I'd trade for easy either, I don't think. ~ Laurie Frankel

The anger and aggression that women feel, however, can always be abated by an infinite list of beauty products, some of which have the added benefit of eliminating the appearance of anger entirely. Even if a woman is angry, no one should know it by looking at her face – optimally lineless, expressionless, and, in some cases, actually paralyzed.
In 2015, news outlets announced a plastic surgery that promised to fix women with 'resting angry face,' popularly known as Resting Bitch Face. Plastic surgery, facial exercises, and even 'facial yoga' hinge on the idea that showing strong, particularly angry, emotions is bad and makes women undesirable. Antidepressant advertising targeting menopausal women encourages them to be tranquil, sedate, and, essentially, nice to look at. Lotions, creams, and injections are 'soothing' and 'calming'. Good skin care, the way to overcome 'angry' rashes or textures, has become a matter of carefully managing not just the feel of the body but also the disciplining of emotions. ~ Soraya Chemaly

CUSTOMER: Do you have a book with a list of careers? I want to give my daughter some inspiration.
BOOKSELLER: Ah, is she applying to university?
CUSTOMER: Oh no, not yet. She's just over there. Sweetheart? (a four year old girl comes over)
CUSTOMER: There you are. Now, you talk to the nice lady, and I'm going to find you a book on how to become a doctor or a scientist. What do you think about that? (The girl says nothing)
CUSTOMER (to bookseller): Won't be a sec. (Customer wanders off into non-fiction) BOOKSELLER: So, what's your name? CHILD: Sarah.
BOOKSELLER: Sarah? That's a beautiful name.
CHILD: Thank you.
BOOKSELLER: So, Sarah, what do you want to be when you grow up?
CHILD: . . . A bumblebee.
BOOKSELLER: Excellent. ~ Jen Campbell

Why do you want to know?"
The shrug again. "Just wondering."
"Really. You've skipped your lawn tennis or duck hunting or whiskey drinking or whatever else people of your sort do all day, only to come all the way out to the island to ask me about the piano piece. Because you were just wondering." I pushed away from the door. "Coming here to kiss me would have been more believable."
"Well, it was second on my list."
"I'm not intimidated by you," I said, blunt. "If you're hoping I'll turn out to be some pathetic, blubbering little rag-girl who begs you not to ruin her, you're in for a surprise."
"That's good." Lord Armand met my eyes. "I like surprises."
We gazed at each other, he on the bed and me by the door, neither of us giving quarter. It seemed to me that the room was growing even more dim, that time was repeating the same ploy it had pulled in Jesse's cottage, drawing out long and slow. The storm outside railed against the castle walls, drowning the air within. It layered darkness through Armand's eyes, the once-vivid blue now deep as the ocean at night.
Beyond my window the rain fell and fell, fat clouds weeping as if they'd never stop.
"Nice bracelet," Armand said softly. "Did you steal it?"
I shook my head. "You gave it to me."
"Did I?"
"As far as everyone else if concerned, yes. You did."
"Hmm. And what do I get in return for agreeing to be your…benefactor?"
"The answer to your question."
"No kiss?" ~ Shana Abe

I thought of how many women told me dispiritedly about how their husbands waited for them to ask - or to make a list - and how demoralizing that was for them. I could not help thinking that there was some element of passive aggression in this recurrent theme of nice men, good, playful dads, full of initiative and motivation at work, who "waited to be asked" to do the more tedious baby-related work at home, until the asking was finally scaled back or stopped. ~ Naomi Wolf

If you run a business, please don't sell to family members or friends on credit. Friends and family members are number on the list of people that can ruin your business. Set very clear boundaries. Do you want to be nice and poor, or do you want to be rich and wicked? ~ Olawale Daniel

Do you have your own room, Charlie Brown?"
"Oh, yes ... I have a very nice room."
"I hope you realize that you won't always have your own room ... Someday you'll get drafted or something, and you'll have to leave your room forever!"
"Why do you tell me things like that?"
"It's on a list I've made up for you ... I call it, Things You Might As Well Know! ~ Charles M. Schulz

For the first time in my life, I'm being sent home with weekly progress reports that I have to give to my father.

The reports are written by Mrs. Leibler and read and signed by Mrs. Kushel, which is my teachers' way of saying that they're in agreement about my behavior.

The reports list all my notable behaviors for Monday through Friday. Some of the comments are nice such as the ones about when I participate appropriately in a classroom discussion.

But most of the comments make my father slam the reports on the table and say, "Rose, for God's sake. Keep your mouth closed when you think of a homonym" or "Do you see any of the other kids clapping their hands over their ears and screaming when they hear the fire alarm? ~ Ann M. Martin

The guests would want refreshments of some kind, but there was no time to prepare a full-blown breakfast. The Americans would have to be content with beverages until a midmorning "nuncheon" could be assembled.
Rapidly Aline went through a mental list of the contents of the pantry and larders. She decided they would set out crystal bowls of strawberries and raspberries, pots of butter and jam, along with bread and cake. Some asparagus salad and broiled bacon would also be nice, and Aline would also tell the housekeeper, Mrs. Faircloth, to serve the chilled lobster soufflé that had been intended as a supper course for later in the day. Something else could be substituted at dinner, perhaps some tiny salmon cutlets with egg sauce, or sweetbreads with celery stalks- ~ Lisa Kleypas

Have ye been naughty or nice?"
"It might be fun to get a little naughty. ~ Kerrelyn Sparks

For the record," I do not desire your body. Not that you're hideous or anything, far from it. Even with those scars, your chest is really nice, and I like your legs because they aren't scrawny, and you have nice shoulders and naughty bits, but I've never been one to put physical attributes ahead of more important things."
"Such as?" He had his hands on his hips when he asked the question, which just made me want to giggle again.
"Intelligence, a sense of humor, and oh yes, not being a mythical creature." I swallowed another giggle. "Not that it wasn't a cool form, but still. I like my men without the sort of baggage that must go with being a shape-shifter."
"Is that so?" One eyebrow lifted.
"Yes."
"Then you will not like this." He pulled me against him, his mouth moving into place on mine, his breath hotter than I could have imagined. And then he kissed the very wits right out of my brain. ~ Katie MacAlister

That done, a second list began to sketch itself from memory. Food, water, containers, blankets...

I set three piles aside, starting with the blankets, then took what pillowcases I could find. They always made useful bags for carrying things when backpacks weren't available. One small pot for boiling, one small pan for cooking or additional self-defense. Knives, always good. One fork and a spoon for each of us. More than that, and they'd clatter inside our bags, keeping us from moving silently. No batteries. One flashlight that seemed to be working for now, even if the beam wasn't strong. The real coup would have been canned food or toilet paper, but those were truly one-in-a-million finds.

"Did you forget to tell us that you're taking us camping?" I'm all four roughing it as long as that entails air-conditioning and a nice view."

...

"Sorry," I muttered, forcing myself onto my feet. "Old habits. ~ Alexandra Bracken

Nikhilananda's birthday. Maybe we'd Morris dance, naked, around the base of an old-growth California redwood, its branches lavishly festooned with the soiled hammocks and poop buckets of crunchy-granola tree sitters mentoring spotted owls in passive-resistance protest techniques. You get the picture. In place of Santa Claus, my mom and dad said Maya Angelou kept tabs on whether little children were naughty or nice. Dr. Angelou, they warned me, did her accounting on a long hemp scroll of names, and if I failed to turn my compost I'd be sent to bed with no algae. Me, I just wanted to know that someone wise and carbon neutral - Dr. Maya or Shirley Chisholm or Sean Penn - was paying attention. But none of that was really Christmas. And none of that Earth First! baloney helps out once you're dead and you discover that the snake-handling, ~ Chuck Palahniuk

Growing up, there wasn't much emphasis on being nice or naughty. As a family, there wasn't much discipline. It was more relaxed at home, which I'm grateful for. ~ Isla Fisher

Sorry about the question thing," Butch said to the black robes. "But I just... I'm glad I know what's in my veins. And honestly, if I die today, I'm grateful I finally know what I am." He took Marissa's hand. "And who I love. If this is where my life took me after all those years of being lost, I'd say my time here wasn't wasted."
There was a long silence. Then the Scribe Virgin said, "Do you regret that you leave behind your human family?"
"Nope. This is my family. Here with me now and elsewhere in the compound. Why would I need anything else?" The cursing in the room told him he'd thrown another question out there. "Yeah.. ah, sorry-"
A soft feminine laugh came from under the robes. "You are rather fearless,human."
"Or you could call it stupid." As Wrath's mouth fell open, Butch rubbed his face. "You know, I'm trying here. I really am. You know, to be respectful."
"Your hand, human."
He offered his left, the one that was free.
"Palm up," Wrath barked.
He flipped his hand over.
"Tell me, human," the Scribe Virgin said, "if I asked for the one you hold this female with, would you offer it to me?"
"Yeah. I'd just reach over to her with the other guy." As that little laugh came again, he said, "You know, you sound like birds when you do that chuckle thing. It's nice."
Over to the left, Vishous put his head in his hands.
There was a long silence.
Butch took a deep breath. "Guess I'm not allowed to say that. ~ J.R. Ward

It would be nice, after this was over, to take a long raft trip. Maybe Jen and I could paddle through Westwater and its ass-clenching rapids, then lounge on the banks in Moab for a week or two. That would be heaven: a raft trip with a beer in my hand instead of a rifle. I ~ Erik Storey

I stopped typing and started having a conversation about the blog post with my boyfriend. He said he'd liked the part where the narrator had explained that, while she was disturbed by the revelation that the Internet writer had a girlfriend – because that meant he wasn't the pure ethical person she'd perceived him to be via reading his literary criticism (which, !) –she was flattered and aroused that he was overcoming his principles in order to be with her.

Keith said, "It's like he can do no wrong. I thought that was nice."

I surprised myself by turning to him and shouting. "It's a SLAVE MENTALITY. IT'S A SLAVE MENTALITY!!!"

I tried to explain what I meant.

I talked about how Ellen Willis had a theory that women didn't know what their true sexuality was like, because they'd been conditioned to develop fantasies that enable them to act in a way that conforms to what men want from them, or what they think men want from them. And I thought about how Eileen Myles described the difference between having sex with men and having sex with women, how having sex with men was more about forcing yourself into what their idea of what sex was supposed to be. I told him that in my experience men do not often become suddenly charmed or intrigued by aspects of women that they have also perceived as off-putting or scary. Men, heterosexual men, don't tend to make excuses for women and find reasons to admire them despite and even slightly because of t ~ Emily Gould

Speaking of shooting, my lady," Mr. Pinter said as he came around the table, "I looked over your pistol as you requested. Everything seems to be in order."
Removing it from his coat pocket, he handed it to her, a hint of humor in his gaze. As several pair of male eyes fixed on her, she colored. To hide her embarrassment, she made a great show of examining her gun. He'd cleaned it thoroughly, which she grudgingly admitted was rather nice of him.
"What a cunning little weapon," the viscount said and reached for it. "May I?"
She handed him the pistol.
"How tiny it is," he exclaimed.
"It's a lady's pocket pistol," she told him as he examined it.
Oliver frowned at her. "When did you acquire a pocket pistol, Celia?"
"A little while ago," she said blithely.
Gabe grinned. "You may not know this, Basto, but my sister is something of a sharpshooter. I daresay she has a bigger collection of guns than Oliver."
"Not bigger," she said. "Finer perhaps, but I'm choosy about my firearms."
"She has beaten us all at some time or another at target shooting," the duke said dryly. "The lady could probably hit a fly at fifty paces."
"Don't be silly," she said with a grin. "A beetle perhaps, but not a fly." The minute the words were out of her mouth, she could have kicked herself. Females did not boast of their shooting-not if they wanted to snag husbands.
"You should come shooting with us," Oliver said. "Why not?"
The last thing she n ~ Sabrina Jeffries

But what should he wear?
I thought about having him laid to rest in his uniform. But the truth is he hated wearing it. He really needed to be dressed in something he was comfortable in.
And that wasn't going to be in a suit, either: he hated being in a jacket and tie even more than in a uniform.
Tie? Ha!
I got a pair of his best pressed jeans. They had a nice crease in the pants leg, just like he liked. I found one of his plaid button-down shirts, another favorite.
Kryptek, which produces tactical gear and apparel and was one of Chris's favorite companies, had presented him with a big silver belt buckle that he loved. It was very cowboy, and in that way very much who Chris was.
"You think I can pull this off?" he'd asked, showing me how it looked right after he got it.
"Hell, yeah," I told him.
I made sure that was with him as well.
But if there was any item of clothing that really touched deep into Chris's soul, it was his cowboy boots. They were a reminder of who he was when he was young, and they were part of who he'd been since getting out of the military.
He had a really nice pair of new boots that had been custom made. He hadn't had a chance to wear them much, and I couldn't decide whether to bury him in those or another pair that were well worn and very comfortable.
I asked the funeral director for his opinion.
"We usually don't do shoes," he said. It can be very difficult to get them onto the body. "But if i ~ Taya Kyle

Film, for me, is in two stages. One is when I write the script more or less on my own - that's the nice bit. And then comes for me the unpleasant bit when they all go off, 100 people - actors and camera people and film and sound - and I stay away. When they go into the editing room, I come in again, and that's the bit I like. ~ Ruth Prawer Jhabvala

It was nice to feel something other than anxiety, or mute fury, the twin emotions that seemed to make up so much of my daily life. ~ Jojo Moyes

I need to be looked after. I'm not talking about diamond rings and nice restaurants and fancy stuff - in fact, that makes me uncomfortable. I didn't grow up with it, and it's not me, you know. But I need someone to say to me, 'Shall I run you a bath?' or 'Let's go to the pub, just us.' ~ Kate Winslet

proclaiming the gospel goes beyond something personal. The gospel is a cosmic reality that supersedes being about me. If it's merely personal, the gospel would stop with me. I might share it with someone as something nice that really benefitted me and maybe the other person might like to give it a try too. But if it is cosmic, it is presented as a matter of fact that has reality regardless of whether I (or anyone else for that matter) have chosen to live by its news. Proclaiming the gospel therefore is the art of announcing to our neighbors that this new world has begun in Christ. ~ David E. Fitch

After the sale of Celtel, I really wanted to give the money back, and I had a number of choices - to go and buy masses of blankets and baby milk or to go into Darfur or Congo. That would have been very nice actually, but it's just like an aspirin: it doesn't deal with the problem. ~ Mo Ibrahim

I decided that I want to live the rest of my life happy with what I'm doing. So when I play tennis again, I have to play it for the right reason. I don't want to play to get my No. 1 ranking back. I don't want to play for the attention, or to earn more. I don't even want to play because the world wants to see me do it, even though it's nice to know that the world is interested. I only want to play because I love the game, which is the reason I began to play at age seven in the first place. ~ Monica Seles

It's nice to live in that world inside your head that abides by your little idealist wishes, ya know, where everyone is straight up about their intentions and never uses people or lies about anything. But seriously, that ain't how this shit works, and the quicker you get that and stop throwing these rushed judgments onto people who are living a life that you have no fucking clue about what it feels to live, then you'll actually be ready for the shit that's gonna get tossed your way. Once you get that people are always gonna let you down and hurt you in some capacity, that's when you actually start to cultivate something real with them. ~ Jason Myers

There is something you have to know. I kept my arms at my sides, and held them tight against my body while I summoned the words to tell him my disgusting secret. I had to get it out before my shift took hold, protecting me from the guilt. I didn't know where to begin, how to begin, or if there was even a nice way of telling him what I had done ~ Carlyle Labuschagne

I don't flaunt my money. I like to stay at nice hotels but I'm not a flashy chick. I haven't got much jewellery or anything. ~ Beyonce Knowles

Ma and God

God gave us fingers--Ma says, "Use your fork."
God gave us voices--Ma says, "Don't scream."
Ma says eat broccoli, cereal and carrots.
But God gave us tasteys for maple ice cream.

God gave us fingers--Ma says, "Use your hanky."
God gave us puddles--Ma says, "Don't splash."
Ma says, "Be quiet, your father is sleeping."
But God gave us garbage can covers to crash.

God gave us fingers--Ma says, "Put your gloves on."
God gave us raindrops--Ma says, "Don't get wet."
Ma says be careful, and don't get too near to
Thoses strange lovely dogs that God gave us to pet.

God gave us fingers--Ma says, "Go wash 'em."
But God gave us coal bins and nice dirty bodies.
And I ain't too smart, but there's one thing for certain--
Either Ma's wrong or else God is. ~ Shel Silverstein

Miss Cornelia sighed and Susan groaned. "Yes, he's nice enough if that were all," said the former. "He is VERY nice - and very learned - and very spiritual. But, oh Anne dearie, he has no common sense! "How was it you called him, then?" "Well, there's no doubt he is by far the best preacher we ever had in Glen St. Mary church," said Miss Cornelia, veering a tack or two. "I suppose it is because he is so moony and absent-minded that he never got a town call. His trial sermon was simply wonderful, believe ME. Every one went mad about it - and his looks." "He is VERY comely, Mrs. Dr. dear, and when all is said and done, I DO like to see a well-looking man in the pulpit," broke in Susan, thinking it was time she asserted herself again. ~ L.M. Montgomery

Your treasure is where your heart is. If a person believes that his or her treasure is in the body only - for example, in good food, a comfortable house, nice clothing, or other pleasures - then this person will be consumed by the pursuit of such things. Indeed, the more energy one puts into pleasing the body, the less energy one will have to invest in a spiritual life. The ~ Leo Tolstoy

It was actually pretty common for women not to scream or call the cops in rape cases I prosecuted," Roe said, "at least partly because women aren't wired to react that way. We are socialized to be likeable and not to create friction. We are brought up to be nice. Women are supposed to resolve problems without making a scene - to make bad things go away as if they never happened. ~ Jon Krakauer

Usually, when making a film, the surprises are negative surprises. You don't get what you wanted or what you hoped for. The only nice surprises are those that are offered to you by actors when they offer you these gifts, when they are better and give you more than what you had originally conceived. That doesn't happen every day on set, but if it happens a couple of times in the course of making a film, you can consider yourself very lucky. ~ Michael Haneke

One thing you'll never hear boys
or for that matter, men
saying is, Charlie, that's a good-looking shirt. Kind of a fun thing. And those trousers make your ass look nice. Can I borrow those? ~ Tim Allen

You bastard!" Before she could stop herself, Kat slapped his cheek as hard as she could. Deep caught her hand before she could pull it back. "Very nice, little Kat." Slowly, he drew the two fingers she'd used to touch herself between his lips, sucking and licking gently as though trying to get every last trace of her juices. Kat felt her heart skip a beat and then start to pound crazily against her ribs. Like it or not, she had to admit that the feel of his warm mouth on her flesh and the hot way he was looking at her was having an effect on her overheated body. "St-stop it," she stuttered, trying to pull away. "Let me go." "For now." He released her hand and began shrugging back into his shirt. "But you'll pay for that little love tap, my lady. I promise you that." Kat ~ Evangeline Anderson

I'm going to have a nice little nap in this sun. Don't think to wander off-I'll know if you move. A very light sleeper, I am.
Heather stared, speechless, at the woman who slept so soundly every night that she'd never heard Heather slip out of their room, or back in. Heather managed not to shake her head in disbelief, just in case Martha was watching through her lashes. ~ Stephanie Laurens

Grey refused to shy away from the intensity heating in Sirus's eyes to charcoal. As he waited for the man to roll over, Grey watched, unwavering, challenging the fire burning hot in Sirus's gaze. Sirus lifted up to his elbows, but didn't make any effort to shift his position. In fact, he looked downright defiant, and Grey's pulse started to race.

"I want a nice view of my cock taking your sweet ass."
"You want me to flip you over and hold you down, fuck you that way?"

"Yeah, you want it." Grey said to Sirus. "But is it the fucking that has you leaking so damn hard, or is it the thought of force?"

"Don't try to overtake me," Sirus bit Grey's lower lip and tugged, letting it pull through his teeth until it released, "unless you're ready to be the one who ends up on the bottom, with my cock buried in your ass."

Grey wrapped his hand around Sirus's throat, yanked the man's head back and took his mouth in a hard, thrusting kiss, going deep and aggressive enough to make Sirus jerk and go compliant. An almost silent whimper escaped the man, begging without words for more. Knowing he was in charge fully once again, Grey reached between their bodies, positioned the head of his cock and drove his length home. ~ Cameron Dane

I give credence to the worst things somebody writes about me, and if somebody writes something nice, I think they're wrong or false or lying or joking. ~ Jesse Eisenberg

Destiny, quite often, is a determined parent. Mozart was hardly some naive prodigy who sat down at the keyboard and, with God whispering in his ears, let music flow from his fingertips. It's a nice image for selling tickets to movies, but whether or not God has kissed your brow, you still have to work. Without learning and preparation, you won't know how to harness the power of that kiss. ~ Twyla Tharp

Altogether bad,' the host concluded. 'As you will, but there's something not nice hidden in men who avoid wine, games, the society of charming women, table talk. Such people are either gravely ill or secretly hate everybody around them. True, there may be exceptions. Among persons sitting down with me at the banqueting table, there have been on occasion some extraordinary scoundrels! ... And so, let me hear your business. ~ Mikhail Bulgakov

MICHAEL WAS STILL FILMING. HE HAD ALREADY used up two cartridges recording the nervousness in the waiting room and was working on the third. Things were getting monotonous. But he kept filming. It was either that or fall asleep, and he refused to fall asleep. He didn't care if it was four in the morning, he wasn't missing the birth of Leigh's baby. Of course, it might have been nice if they'd let him into the delivery room with Leigh and Jon. Videographers did that all the time. Okay, so he had a cold. Wasn't that what dentist's masks were for? ~ Barbara Delinsky