Never Shout Never Music Quotes

Sit down and have a cup of coffee
With your firm conviction that they're out to get you
Sit down and have a cigarette with your awful fear of death
I saw Milarepa at the all-night diner sharing a table with his personal demons
He said You've got to invite them in with compassion on your breath

Stop running away, 'cause nobody runs as fast as pain and sorrow
Stop pushing away, you're just making it hard
Stop putting it off, 'cause it'll be back to kick your ass tomorrow
Breathe in, breathe out, let down your guard

Sit down and start shooting the shit
With the fear that you'll never measure up to your ideals
Sit down and have a bottle of beer with the ache of all you've lost
I saw Milarepa at the coffee house having a Danish with his hurts and hatreds
He said You've got to invite them in, or you pay ten times the cost.

Stop running away, 'cause nobody runs as fast as fear and loathing
Stop pushing away, you're just making it worse
Stop putting it off, cause it'll be back again in different clothing
Just pop the clutch and go into reverse

Invite them in and let them be there while you learn to stand it
Invite them in and give them room to stomp and shout
When they can come and go
They won't be always pounding on your door
If you let them in you can let them out.

Sit down and have a conversation
With the loneliness that's eating yo ~ Allison Lonsdale

Badgers swarm out of the sand;
Talk and walk, don't run or stand.
Pritaries bite and bite again;
Kick and shout and run like wind."

Payne checked the small clock again. "Aye," he cut in. "Black Wolf never did get that last verse right. What she should have said was, 'Pritaries like to bite your ass; best to run away real fast. ~ Tara K. Harper

Many good people, being influenced by the bold spirit of the times, are now seeking surgery for the wife or the husband so they may avoid pregnancies and comply with the strident voice demanding a reduction of children. It was never easy to bear and rear children, but easy things do not make for growth and development. But loud, blatant voices today shout 'fewer children' and offer the Pill, drugs, surgery, and even ugly abortion to accomplish that. Strange the proponents of depopulating the world seem never to have thought of continence! ~ Spencer W. Kimball

I'm very superstitious ... I never shout at magpies, walk under ladders or put my shoes on the table. ~ Norman Cook

There is a river running through this city and every time my best friend laughs I want to grab him by the shoulders and shout Grow old with me and never kiss me on the mouth! I want to spend the next eighty years together, eating Doritos and riding bikes. ~ Clementine Von Radics

Let go of me," I choke out, clawing blindly at Teren. The sharp tang of blood suddenly fills my nostrils, and I realize that it is from his wrists, spreading a film of scarlet around us. Somewhere ahead, the silhouette of our ship looms. We are getting closer.
"I wish I could," Teren spits, dripping venom. "There's nothing I'd like to see more than you in the Underworld, Adelina."
His words spark my fury. He never intended to finish this journey with you. Teren grips my arm again so hard that I scream in pain. He is pulling us both toward the ship, his face set in grim determination.
Then I hear him shout, "But I won't."
But I won't. My fury wavers, turning into bewilderment. ~ Marie Lu

They heard Hugo ask if the plan for the hors d'oeuvres was still in operation, and they heard Colette ask about plucking the feathers off crows, and they heard Kevin complain that he didn't know whether to hold the birdpaper in his right hand or his left hand, and they heard Mr. Lesko insult Mrs. Morrow, and the bearded man sing a song to the woman with the crow-shaped hat, and they heard a man call for Bruce and a woman call for her mother and dozens of people whisper to and shout at, argue with and agree upon, angrily accuse and meekly defend, furiously compliment and kindly insult dozens of other people, both inside and outside the Hotel Denouement, whose names the Baudelaires recognized, forgot, and had never heard before. Each story had its story, and each story's story was unfathomable in the Baudelaire orphans' short journey, and many of the stories' stories are unfathomable to me, even after all these lonely years and all this lonely research. Perhaps some of these stories are clearer to you, because you have spied upon the people involved. Perhaps Mrs. Bass has changed her name and lives near you, or perhaps Mr. Remora's name is the same, and he lives far away. Perhaps Nero now works as a grocery store clerk, or Geraldine Julienne now teaches arts and crafts. Perhaps Charles and Sir are no longer partners, and you have had the occasion to study one of them as he sat across from you on a bus, or perhaps Hugo, Colette, and Kevin are still comrades, and you have followe ~ Lemony Snicket

I hate you!" Pen's would-be shout was muffled by breathlessness, and not-Triss realized that the younger girl was sobbing with exhaustion and rage. "I hate you! You stupid . . . Why did you have to happen? I never asked for a stupid . . . stupid . . . toothy . . . stupid . . . monster thing. ~ Frances Hardinge

If I could put back the pieces and make them right,I'd turn back the hands of time with all my might.You'd never think that things went wrong.If I took the pain away and if I say that you complete me in every single way.If I shout it from the clouds above for everyone to hear.Could you ever believe me?If I whisper to you sweetly,you say you need a reason. But I've never gone astray.Now if I can once again persuade you
to say yes to me today.There is just one more question left for me to ask before we throw it all away.What do you say?Please say yes to me today
I gave you my heart, placed it in your hands for our dreams of tomorrow, just like we planned together as one for the rest of our days.But If I'd only showed instead of told you,I would have taken this doubt away.If I scream it from the sky above so everyone is sure to know.Could you ever believe me?If I whisper to you sweetly,you cry out you need a reason.But we've never gone astray.Now if I can once again persuade you to say yes to me today
If you give me your hand, I'll wrap it in golden bands for a long future together, I'd be a happy man.I'll hold you forever as our story unfolds by my side.You've been my only lover, let the truth be told.
If I scream it from the sky above so everyone is sure to know.Could you ever believe me?If I whisper to you sweetly If I say I am your reason and our love will light our way.Now if I can once again persuade you to say yes to me today.There is just one more que ~ Tina Reber

He knew he could never jingle change in his pocket or park his car like a confident adult, he was the Adrian he had always been, casting a guilty look over a furtive shoulder, living in eternal dread of a grown-up striding forward to clip his ear.
But there again, when he sipped at the whiskey his eyes failed to water and his throat forgot to burn. The body shamelessly welcomed what once it would have rejected. At breakfast he demanded not Ricicles and chocolate spread, but coffee and unbuttered toast. And if the coffee was sugared he leapt from it like a colt from an electric fence. He ate the crust and left the filling, guzzled the olives and spurned the cherries. Yet inside he remained the same Adrian who fought down the urge to stand and shout 'Bullocks' during church services, smelt his own farts and wasted hours skimming through National Geographic on the off-chance of seeing a few naked bodies. ~ Stephen Fry

It is raining. The clock ticks. I am leaning on my elbow. The wind
blows through the cracks. The door rattles in its frame. My arm is
tired of staying in one position. There is a pressure on the wrist. My
temple burns on one side. I wonder what will happen next. Someone
laughs. If he had heard the rain, the clock, and the door, he would
have kept silent. Had I been laughing, I would not have heard these
things.

Gaze into a cat's eye or a gorilla's. You will notice a peculiar thing that
will make you shudder. sometimes cats claw at human eyes. Some-
times gorillas enrage.

Telepathy and death are wound inextricably together. To see why this
is so, you must understand consciousness. When, late at night in
your bed, you hear a distant automobile, you and the driver are parts
of yourself. When you speak, you are alone and the listener is both
you and himself. Two men, one on the mountain and the other in the
village, cannot communicate. Each is looking into a mirror. Wave,
and *he* waves - shout, and *he* replies. All of us see the same
moon and feel the same heartbeat, but we can never admit it. One
says the moon is a pale disc, another that it is a satellite of the Earth,
a third that it is a silver world. My heart thumps, yours clatters, and his
booms. Consciousness is distortion.

But much telepathy passes unnoti ~ E.E. Rehmus

She gazed back at him, her mouth open, gasping for air. Her white blouse rose and fell with each panting breath. She shook her head. "No. We can't. I'm sorry."
His gut twisted. He wanted to shout, "Why? Why can I never have what I want - just once? ~ Bonnie Dee

People used to shout, "Stand up like a real man," in every possible context when I was a teenager. It took me a good few years into my twenties to realize that real men can also stay seated, shut up, and listen. And admit when they're wrong. So don't make the same mistakes I did. Never go to a game of anything and shout, "you're playing like a woman!" at an athlete, as though that word were the definition of weakness. One day, you'll be holding a woman's hand as she gives birth and then that'll make you feel more ashamed than you've ever felt about anything. Words matter. Be better. ~ Fredrik Backman

There's a funny fool. I have a riddle for you, Shagwell. Why do you care if she screams? Oh, wait, I know." He shouted "SAPPHIRES," as loudly as he could.
Cursing, Rorge kicked at his stump again. Jaime howled. I never knew there was such agony in the world, was the last thing he remembered thinking. It was hard to say how long he was gone, but when the pain spit him out, Urswyck was there, and Vargo Hoat himself. "Thee'th not to be touched," the goat screamed, spraying spittle all over Zollo. "Thee hath to be a maid, you foolth! Thee'th worth a bag of thapphireth!" And from then on, every night Hoat put guards on them, to protect them from his own.
Two nights passed in silence before the wench finally found the courage to whisper, "Jaime? Why did you shout out?"
"Why did I shout out 'sapphires,' you mean? Use your wits, wench. Would this lot have cared if I shouted 'rape'?"
"You did not need to shout at all."
"You're hard enough to look at with a nose. Besides, I wanted to make the goat say, 'thapphireth. ~ George R.R. Martin

From gun shows, where they openly promote their product by imploring customers to buy "while you still can," to homegrown militias who apparently believe in their blessed little hearts that they, a group of overweight forty-and fifty-year-old men who have never even had Boy Scout–level training and can't jog a mile, are the protectors of America, the Second Amendment has by far got to be the most countercultured of all the amendments. Obviously, there are groups that take the First Amendment very seriously, but it's tough to imagine a group of soccer moms getting together on the weekends to discuss "tactics" on how to keep free speech alive and comparing notes on their sweet new semiautomatic megaphones they use to proudly shout about their rights at "free speech shows. ~ Trae Crowder

Conversation is a minefield until you learn the conventions, Jane dear.'
'I'll never learn all the rules,' muttered Jane.
'Yes, you will,' said Phryne. 'Then you can bend them. The best advice I would give you is, "If under attack, cause a diversion".'
'A diversion?'
'Yes, trip over the dog, spill a glass of wine on your attacker, burst into song, challenge your attacker to a duel. And the angrier you get, the lower your voice should be. Never shout unless you are shouting "Fire! ~ Kerry Greenwood

1.I WON'T SHAM

Why pretend all is well, yet in hurt
When inside I'm dying for your affection?
Why should l flout you?
When my heart yearns for communion?

'l don't care' cries the broken hearted
When inside the heart cries for love
When the very reason they are crying
Is them they are pretending to slur

'l never loved you' cries the divorced
When their heart bleeds for love, just one act of love
The one that brought them together at first
The very reason they even got married

'l hate you' cries the frustrated
When fulfillment is all they long for
The reality of which is still a fallacy to them
If only they could hold on just a little longer

'That's a dry joke' cries the scowling
When laughter is what they long for
In as much as they pretend to frown
Merriment is still so true in their hearts

But, l hate to say goodbye, when all l want is to be with you
I hate to walk away, when l could have gone with you
You'd make me sad by waving goodbye
When all that's true is for you and me to be together

I hate to shout at you, when l can just speak tenderly
l hate to hang you down on the phone,
When l could have said a little more to make you blissful
I hate to say goodnight when l'm not heavy-eyed myself

All that's real to me is l abhor to be a dummy
But hold on my love, l WON'T SHAM.... ~ TinMasun

Give my love to the kids, I shout as the door closes, and I've never seen that shade of red on a face. It's quite lovely, actually, I should aim for it more often. ~ Kiersten White

Izzy was utterly convinced. Never mind Arabian horses, African cheetahs. No creature in the world could bolt so quickly as a rake confronted with the word "marriage". They ought to shout it out at footraces rather than using starting pistols.
Ready, steady ... matrimony! ~ Tessa Dare

Matha had never considered that being female would thwart her so, that it would be a hurdle she had to jump every time she wanted to learn something: to read a book, to shout the answers, to make a bomb, to love a man, to fight for freedom. ~ Namwali Serpell

What did you say?" Bronwyn asked.
Ranulf scowled, hating to be caught mumbling. Something else he never did. "I said that I don't yell! I don't shout! Ever!"
"I find that hard to believe,my lord, for I have heard you do quite a lot of both since you arrival. ~ Michele Sinclair

Gansey despised raising his voice (in his head, his mother said, People shout when they don't have the vocabulary to whisper), but he heard it happening despite himself and so, with effort, he kept his voice even. "Not like this. At least you have a place to go. 'End of the world'... What is your problem, Adam? I mean, is there something about my place that's too repugnant for you to imagine living there? Why is it that everything kind I do is pity to you? Everything is charity. Well, here it is: I'm sick of tiptoeing around your principles."
"God, I'm sick of your condescension, Gansey," Adam said. "Don't try to make me feel stupid. Who whips out repugnant? Don't pretend you're not trying to make me feel stupid."
"This is the way I talk. I'm sorry your father never taught you the meaning of repugnant. He was too busy smashing your head against the wall of your trailer while you apologized for being alive."
Both of them stopped breathing.
Gansey knew he'd gone too far. It was too far, too late, too much.
Adam shoved open the door.
"Fuck you, Gansey. Fuck you," he said, voice low and furious.
Gansey close his eyes.
Adam slammed the door, and then he slammed it again when the latch didn't catch. Gansey didn't open his eyes. He didn't want to see if people were watching some kid fight with a boy in a bright orange Camaro and an Aglionby jumper. Just then he hated his raven-breasted uniform and his loud car and every three- and four-syllabl ~ Maggie Stiefvater

Why was it that they could never shout like that about something that mattered? ~ George Orwell

You made me laugh at your jokes.
You made me cry at your criticism.
You made me shout at your lies.
Then I noticed how in every case someone else was present,
hearing you without laughter or tears or anger.
I alone reacted.
I see now; you never made me laugh or cry or rage.
I chose to find humor.
I chose to take offense.
I chose to feel scorned.
The truth is, you never had power over me. ~ Richelle E. Goodrich

I'm not a person who does well with idle time."
"Seriously? I never would have guessed."
His teasing didn't bother her, especially when she looked at her ring again. Smaller diamonds surrounded the impressive princess-cut stone, making it glint brightly in the sunlight. "It is so perfect."
"If it's not, we can exchange it - "
She snatched the ring up close to her chest. "Never."
Trace gave a slow, sexy grin. "So, Priscilla Patterson, since you approve of my job, my home, my friends and my ring, will you try another new experience - and marry me?"
Joy bubbled up, but she didn't want to shout just yet. "When you go off to - " She glanced at Matt " - work, will you at least tell me what's going on?"
"Yes. As much as I can."
"Will you be honest about the danger involved?"
"I'll be honest with you about everything."
"Okay." She peeked at him, and winced in dread. "Did you want a big wedding?"
Trace frowned at the continued line of questioning. "I want whatever you want."
That almost made her cry, too. "Another first," she whispered, because before now, what she wanted hadn't really mattered. She kept smoothing her hands over his chest, as always drawn by his physique. "You should enter a wet T-shirt contest. You'd win."
Chris snorted, but Matt agreed. ~ Lori Foster

Always will I dig for reasons to applaud; never will I scratch for excuses to gossip. When I am tempted to criticize I will bite on my tongue; when I am moved to praise I will shout from the roofs. ~ Og Mandino

Write as you like, use the rhythms that come out, try different instruments, sit at the piano, destroy the metric, shout instead of singing, blow your guitar and ring the horn. Hate mathematics, and love eddies. Creation is a bird without a flight plan, that will never fly in a straight line. ~ Violeta Parra

Your heart always knows what's important. It always knows how to guide you. It's pure, and trustworthy
though it will never shout to be heard. it will never speak above a whisper. But if you learn how to heed it, how to hear it, you will never feel lost in the world. ~ Alyson Noel

Because I am well read, I know what a terrible cliche it is to shout, "I *hate* you. I never *asked* to be born," so I refrain. ~ Caitlin Moran

Because Rhy didn't need his protection, not anymore, and he'd only told a partial truth when he said they both needed this.
The whole truth was, Rhy needed it more.
Because Kell had given him a gift he did not want, could never repay.
He'd always envied his brother 's strength.
And now, in a horrible way, it was his.
He was immortal.
And he hated it.
And he hated that he hated it. Hated that he'd become the thing he never wanted to be, a burden to his brother, a source of pain and suffering, a prison. Hated that if he'd had a choice, he would have said no. Hated that he was grateful he hadn't had a choice, because he wanted to live, even if he didn't deserve to.
But most of all, Rhy hated the way his living changed how Kell lived, the way his brother moved through life as if it were suddenly fragile. The black stone, and whatever lived inside it, and for a time in Kell, had changed his brother, woken something restless, something reckless. Rhy wanted to shout, to shake Kell and tell him not to shy away from danger on his account, but charge toward it, even if it meant getting hurt.
Because Rhy deserved that pain.
He could see his brother suffocating beneath the weight of it. Of him.
And he hated it.
And this gesture - this foolish, mad, dangerous gesture - was the best he could do.
The most he could do. ~ V.E. Schwab

These days, the selfie and its main outlet, Instagram, generally come in for much adult loathing. But consider this: The selfie is a tiny pulse of girl pride - a shout-out to the self. ... The selfie suggests something in picture form - I think I look [beautiful] [happy] [funny] [sexy]. Do you? - that a girl could never get away with saying. It puts the gaze of the camera squarely in a girl's hands, and along with it, the power to influence the photo's interpretation. ~ Rachel Simmons

The wife correct " Lorelei prompted. "She makes sure her husband is treated with the proper regard and she is the one who sees after his care just like you would do a treasured pup."
Annabeth frowned. "I suppose that's true."
"Thank you " Lorelei said. "Now if you wish to train a man to listen to you you never shout you whisper. They take extra special care to listen to a quiet tone while they automatically shut out loud ones. And just like you would a dog when he comes at your bidding you reward him. That way he'll always come instead of ignoring you or putting
you off. ~ Kinley MacGregor

This is an ode to all of those that have never asked for one.
A thank you in words to all of those that do not do
what they do so well for the thanking.
This is to the mothers.
This is to the ones who match our first scream
with their loudest scream; who harmonize in our shared pain
and joy and terrified wonder when life begins.
This is to the mothers.
To the ones who stay up late and wake up early and always know
the distance between their soft humming song and our tired ears.
To the lips that find their way to our foreheads and know,
somehow always know, if too much heat is living in our skin.
To the hands that spread the jam on the bread and the mesmerizing
patient removal of the crust we just cannot stomach.
This is to the mothers.
To the ones who shout the loudest and fight the hardest and sacrifice
the most to keep the smiles glued to our faces and the magic
spinning through our days. To the pride they have for us
that cannot fit inside after all they have endured.
To the leaking of it out their eyes and onto the backs of their
hands, to the trails of makeup left behind as they smile
through those tears and somehow always manage a laugh.
This is to the patience and perseverance and unyielding promise
that at any moment they would give up their lives to protect ours.
This is to the mothers.
To the single mom's working four jobs to put the cheese i ~ Tyler Knott Gregson

Do you ever worry that life is passing you by while day in and day out you're focused on what you're supposed to be doing, rather than what you want to be doing? Then, before you know it, you're old and curled up on your deathbed, weigh ninety pounds, nothing but elbows and knees, consumed with remorseful thoughts that obligations and function controlled your life while you sat idly by and watched it happen. Feeble and unable to eat anything but chicken broth or ice chips, you think, Golden years my ass, I'll never get the chance to shout my name from the rooftop and why didn't I take advantage of my youth? ~ Allison Morgan

I was dissatisfied with my 1967 manuscript and decided to rewrite the book. It was the first of September, and I said to myself, "If I do not have the finished manuscript in Faber's hands by September 10, I shall have to kill myself." And under this threat, I started writing. Within a day or so, the feeling of threat had disappeared, and the joy of writing took over. I was no longer using drugs, but it was a time of extraordinary elation and energy. It seemed to me almost as though the book were being dictated, everything organizing itself swiftly and automatically. I would sleep for just a couple of hours a night. And a day ahead of schedule, on September 9, I took the book to Faber & Faber. Their offices were in Great Russell Street, near the British Museum, and after dropping off the manuscript, I walked over to the museum. Looking at artifacts there - pottery, sculptures, tools, and especially books and manuscripts, which had long outlived their creators - I had the feeling that I, too, had produced something. Something modest, perhaps, but with a reality and existence of its own, something that might live on after I was gone.

I have never had such a strong feeling, a feeling of having made something real and of some value, as I did with that first book, which was written in the face of such threats from Friedman and, for that matter, from myself. Returning to New York, I felt a sense of joyousness and almost blessedness. I wanted to shout, "Hallelujah! ~ Oliver Sacks

In the middle of the road, in the moment you want to give up, shout out even louder:
So what? ~ BTS (So What)

And Bethod means to make war on this? He must be mad."
"Bethod, for all his waste and pride, understands the Union. They are jealous of one another, all those people. It may be a union in name, but they fight each other tooth and nail. The lowly squabble over trifles. The great wage secret wars for power and wealth, and they call it government. Wars of words, and tricks, and guile, but no less bloody for that. The casualties are many. Behind those walls they shout and argue and endlessly bite one another's backs. Old squabbles are never settled, but thrive, and put down roots, and the roots grow deeper with the passing years. It has always been so. They are not like you, Logen. A man here can smile, and fawn, and call you friend, give you gifts with one hand and stab you with the other. You will find this a strange place. ~ Joe Abercrombie

If you are lucky enough to find love, you should celebrate it. You should shout it from the rooftops, or sing it in a song, or compete in a reality show to make your dream come true. You shouldn't let love pass by unnoticed, especially because there are many who will never experience it. ~ Crystal Cestari

I looked out across the Ocean, and determined to drown myself.
I was up to my chin when the shout came, and I will never forget it. Never. For it seems to me that any hope in life is such a shout; a voice that answers the silent place of despair. It is silence that most needs an answering - when I can no longer speak, hear me. ~ Jeanette Winterson

There's something simmering inside of me. Something I've never dared to tap into, something I'm afraid to acknowledge. There's a part of me clawing to break free from the cage I've trapped it in, banging on the doors of my heart, begging to be free. Begging to let go. Every day I feel like I'm reliving the same nightmare. I open my mouth to shout, to fight, to swing my fists, but my vocal cords are cut, my arms are heavy and weighted down as if trapped in wet cement and I'm screaming but no one can hear me, no one can reach me and I'm caught. And it's killing me. I've always had to make myself submissive, subservient, twisted into a pleading, passive mop just to make everyone else feel safe and comfortable. My existence has become a fight to prove I'm harmless, and I'm not a threat, that I'm capable of living among other human beings without hurting them. And I'm so tired I'm so tire I'm so tired I'm so tired and sometimes I get so angry. I don't know what's happening to me. ~ Tahereh Mafi

…be awake to the Life
that is loving you and
sing your prayer, laugh your prayer,
dance your prayer, run
and weep and sweat your prayer,
sleep your prayer, eat your prayer,
paint, sculpt, hammer, and read your prayer,
sweep, dig, rake, drive and hoe your prayer,
garden and farm and build and clean your prayer,
wash, iron, vacuum, sew, embroider and pickle your prayer,
compute, touch, bend and fold but never delete
or mutilate your prayer.

Learn and play your prayer,
work and rest your prayer,
fast and feast your prayer,
argue, talk, whisper, listen and shout your prayer,
groan and moan and spit and sneeze your prayer,
swim and hunt and cook your prayer,
digest and become your prayer,
release and recover your prayer,
breathe your prayer,
be your prayer ~ Alla Renée Bozarth

Now that hazel eyes is in my life, something inside me has changed. He makes me want to dress up and look sexy, he makes me want to sing and shout because he is awakening these desires that I thought will never be awaken again. I have to admit, I want him so much it hurts. I want to drive him crazy the same way he drives me crazy. ~ Dora Sky

Even if my throat bleeds from singing and my body breaks from dancing,I will never give up on stage.Under the circumstances where you cannot enjoy yourself whole-heartedly.Just scream and shout 'till your throat hurts ~ Jaejoong

Use the voice that you were given. Shout what you believe in from the top of your lungs. Never let anyone quiet you. ~ Demi Lovato

Do the things I never did. Swear. Wear neon colours. Skydive. Climb fences. Ride horses naked. Say obscene things. Make love. Shout at people when they piss you off. Toot your horn. Scream. Become tainted and be proud of it. It's who you are. You came into this world naked and blank, like a canvass, but I want you to go screaming out of it covered in every colour of the rainbow. ~ Sarah Michelle Lynch

Wherever I go, people still shout out: 'Hey, hey, we're The Monkees.' And I never tire of that. ~ Davy Jones

He has little hope that university, when he gets there next year, will be any different. Like right now, all these pupils taking notes as if their life depended on it. All for what? he wants to shout. To get into the top university, so that you can somehow convince yourself you are better than the great unwashed? So that your parents can convince themselves that they are better parents than the great unwashed? So that Mum and Dad's fourteen-hour days at the office, paying for a fucking private education you never asked for, wasn't just a pathetic waste of a life? ~ Tabitha Suzuma

I'll prove who I am, Kingsley, after I've seen my son, now back off if you know what's good for you!"
Harry had never heard Mr. Weasley shout like that before. He burst into the living room, his bald patch gleaming with sweat, his spectacles askew, Fred right behind him, both pale but uninjured.
"Arthur!" sobbed Mrs. Weasley. "Oh thank goodness!"
"How is he?"
Mr. Weasley dropped to his knees beside George. For the first time since Harry had known him, Fred seemed to be lost for words. He gaped over the back of the sofa at his twin's wound as if he could not believe what he was seeing.
Perhaps roused by the sound of Fred and their father's arrival, George stirred.
"How do you feel, Georgie?" whispered Mrs. Weasley.
George's fingers groped for the side of his head.
"Saintlike," he murmured.
"What's wrong with him?" croaked Fred, looking terrified. "Is his mind affected?"
"Saintlike," repeated George, opening his eyes and looking up at his brother. "You see…I'm holy. Holey, Fred, geddit?"
Mrs. Weasley sobbed harder than ever. Color flooded Fred's pale face.
"Pathetic," he told George. "Pathetic! With the whole wide world of ear-related humor before you, you go for holey?"
"Ah well," said George, grinning at his tear-soaked mother. "You'll be able to tell us apart now, anyway, Mum. ~ J.K. Rowling

He removed his hat, something a wizard doesn't ordinarily do unless he's about to pull something out of it, and handed it to the Bursar. Then he tore a thin strip off the bottom of his robe, held it dramatically in both hands, and tied it around his forehead.
"It's part of the ethos," he said, in answer to their penetratingly unspoken question. "That's what the warriors on the Counterweight Continent do before they go into battle. And you have to shout --" He tried to remember some far-off reading. "-er, bonsai. Yes. Bonsai!"
"I thought that meant chopping bits off trees to make them small," said the Senior Wrangler.
The Dean hesitated. He wasn't too sure himself, if it came to it.
But a good wizard never let uncertainty stand in his way.
"No, it's definitely got to be bonsai," he said. He considered it some more then brightened up. "On account of it all being part of bushido. Like...small trees. Bush-i-do. Yeah. Makes sense, when you think about it."
"But you can't shout 'bonsai' here." said the Lecturer in Recent Runes. "We've got a totally different cultural background. It'd be useless. No one will know what you mean.
"I'll work on it, " said the Dean.* ~ Terry Pratchett