Red Headed Stepchild Quotes

So about this Leon god thing? I don't know of any gods named Leon. Is he like the red-headed stepchild god that no one claims? ~ Jennifer L. Armentrout

Got it. Look for a room with a sign with a big arrow that says, 'Kidnapped Mancies Here,' " he said. ~ Jaye Wells

Tom smiled at the Fleming - a bright, friendly smile - and bobbed his head courteously. That confused the jolt-head. Then, by way of making conversation while his confederates gained their positions, he said, "I suppose someone must have told you - your mother, perhaps, or your father, though I doubt you ever knew him - that you're an idle-headed canker. A rank pustule? No? Not even an irksome, crook-pated, pathetical nit?"
The Fleming, his face as red as hot steel, roared and swung a fist like a blacksmith's hammer. ~ Anna Castle

Bearing Two Nine Five distance six miles from ----- -----. Attack! Attack!" On the bridge of the Grayson we shook off an overpowering weariness and listened to the PT's as they tore in for the enemy to lash out with torpedoes ("pickles," in PT language). "----- ----- they're headed for you. Cut'em off - cut'em off." "They're headed for the ----- -----. Get in there! What the hell's the matter? " "O.K. - O.K. I've fired my pickles - we got him - I'm getting out of here." "All ----- Close in - Close in." Toward Savo there was a red glow - a sudden blinding flash of flame. ----- had caught a pickle. That was swell. The PT's were in there with everything they had. But their pickles were limited in number. Now the destroyers could go after the enemy with our own tin fish and comparatively heavy guns. Scotty Etheridge ~ Frederick J. Bell

When I step foot to my locker and change shoes for training, its like turning on a switch. I become a creature. Not a human. I look to tear apart anyone and everyone in my way to hugeness and I don't care how I do it. I can feel my heart start jumping and my body start saying "beat me into the ground like a red-headed step child. I want punishment" I WANT TO BE A FREAK, A FREAK I TELL YOU!! ~ Jason Bennett

Said Red Molly to James that's a fine motorbike
A girl could feel special on any such like
Said James to Red Molly, my hat's off to you
It's a Vincent Black Lightning, 1952
And I've seen you at the corners and cafes it seems
Red hair and black leather, my favourite colour scheme
And he pulled her on behind
And down to Boxhill they did ride

Said James to Red Molly, here's a ring for your right hand
But I'll tell you in earnest I'm a dangerous man
I've fought with the law since I was seventeen
I robbed many a man to get my Vincent machine
Now I'm 21 years, I might make 22
And I don't mind dying, but for the love of you
And if fate should break my stride
Then I'll give you my Vincent to ride

Come down, come down, Red Molly, called Sergeant McRae
For they've taken young James Adie for armed robbery
Shotgun blast hit his chest, left nothing inside
Oh, come down, Red Molly to his dying bedside
When she came to the hospital, there wasn't much left
He was running out of road, he was running out of breath
But he smiled to see her cry
And said I'll give you my Vincent to ride

Says James, in my opinion, there's nothing in this world
Beats a 52 Vincent and a red headed girl
Now Nortons and Indians and Greeveses won't do
They don't have a soul like a Vincent 52
He reached for her hand and he slipped her the keys
He said I've got ~ Richard L. Thompson

Here it comes," Niten said. The whites of his eyes,his teeth and his tongue had turned blue.
"Ready," Prometheus said.
Nicholas Flamel touched the green scarab he now wore around his neck and felt it grow warm in his hand.The spell was a simple one,something he had performed a thousand times before, though never on such a large scale.
A red-skinned head broke the surface of the water ... followed by a second ... and a third ... and then a fourth head,black and twice as large as the others appeared. Suddenly there were seven heads streaking toward them.
"Let's hope no one if filming this," Niten murmered.
"No one would believe it anyway." Prometheus grinned. "Seven-headed monsters simply do not exist.If anyone saw it,they'd say it was Photoshopped. ~ Michael Scott

You're going to be okay," Winter said reassuringly.
You don't understand," Leven snapped.
What don't I understand?" Winters voice was stern. "Sorry you feel bad, but its not like you just met a person so beautiful that now you feel completely worthless."
What?" Leven said. "What are you talking about?"
Isaw the way you fell over yourselves to stare at her."
That was Geth."
Don't argue, you two," Geth said.
Were not arguing." Leven felt light-headed.
No," Winter confirmed. "We're just...."
Winter looked at Leven. Leven looked right back at her. Winters cheeks burned red and her green eyes outshone Leven's. The two of them stared at one other. Leven closed his eyes.
What are you doing?" Geth asked, concerned.
Winter closed her eyes too and leaned closer. Both of them looked panicked and out of control, but it didn't stop them from moving closer and kissing each other.
Clovers jaw dropped and he pulled something out of his void just so he could let go of it in shock. Even Geth looked caught off guard, as if he'd been given news that he never thought he'd hear in his lifetime.
Leven stumbled back and looked at Winter. His face was almost as red as hers. He looked at Geth and Clover and then back to Winter.
Well that was interesting," Clover said happily.
I don't know what....." Leven tried to say.
No, I......" Winter said. "Its not you.... it's just that my... I think I left something down below. ~ Obert Skye

Of all the jaw-droppingly beautiful women who've become genuine movie stars, none has had a longer film career (62 years), has been filmed in Technicolor more often (34 times), has had a more versatile group of leading men (from John Wayne to John Candy) or has spent more time held captive on a pirate ship than our TCM Star of the Month for July, the magnificent red-headed Maureen O'Hara. ~ Robert Osborne

They're headed for some place called the Great Barrier."
"A place that doesn't exist." Liv was shaking her head, checking the rotating dials on her wrist.
Link pushed away his plate, still covered with food. "So let me get this straight. We're gonna go down into the
Tunnels and find this moon outta time with Liv's fancy watch?"
"Selenometer." Liv didn't look up from copying numbers from the dials into her red notebook. ~ Kami Garcia

He looked down at the keys and played a gentle chord. Jesper wondered at how he could have mistaken Kuwei for Wylan. Their hands were completely different, the shape of the fingers, the knuckles.
"Jes," Wylan said, "did you mean what you told my father? Will you stay with me? Will you help?"
Jesper leaned back on the pianoforte, resting on his elbows. "Let's see. Live in a luxurious merch mansion, get waited on by servants, spend a little extra time with a budding demolitions expert who plays a mean flute? I guess I can manage it." Jesper's eyes traveled from the top of Wylan's red-gold curls to the tips of his toes and back again. "But I do charge a pretty steep fee."
Wylan flushed a magnificent shade of pink. "Well, hopefully the medik will be here to fix my ribs soon," he said as he headed back into the parlor.
"Yeah?"
"Yes," said Wylan, glancing briefly over his shoulder, his cheeks now red as cherries. "I'd like to make a down payment."
Jesper released a bark of laughter. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this good. And no one was even shooting at him. ~ Leigh Bardugo

When, for instance, a highly esteemed professor in his seventies abandons his family and runs off with a young red-headed actress, we know that the gods have claimed another victim. ~ C. G. Jung

The next day, when I came home from the library, there was a small, used red record player in my room. I found my mother in the kitchen and spotted a bandage taped to her arm.
"Ma," I asked. "Where did you get the money for the record player?"
"I had it saved," she lied.
My father lived well, had a large house and an expensive imported car, wanted for little, and gave nothing. My mother lived on welfare in a slum and sold her blood to the Red Cross to get me a record player.
"Education is everything, Johnny," she said, as she headed for the refrigerator to get me food. "You get smart like regular people and you don't have to live like this no more."
She and I were not hugging types, but I put my hand on her shoulder as she washed the dishes with her back to me and she said, in best Brooklynese, "So go and enjoy, already." My father always said I was my mother's son and I was proud of that. On her good days, she was a good and noble thing to be a part of.
That evening, I plugged in the red record player and placed it by the window. My mother and I took the kitchen chairs out to the porch and listened to Beethoven's Sixth Symphony from beginning to end, as we watched the oil-stained waters of the Mad River roll by. It was a good night, another good night, one of many that have blessed my life. ~ John William Tuohy

Vaporized by the sun! Wasn't that what the universe had in store for all of us? There would come a day when the sun exploded like a red balloon, and everyone on earth would be reduced in less than a camera flash to carbon. Didn't Genesis say as much? For dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return. This was far more than dull old theology: It was precise scientific observation! Carbon was the Great Leveler
the Grim Reaper.
Diamonds were nothing more than carbon, but carbon in a crystal lattice that made it the hardest known mineral in nature. That was the way we all were headed. I was sure of it. We were destined to be diamonds! ~ Alan Bradley

What's she like? The princess, I mean."
"Bullheaded. She's red headed, blue-eyed, and stubborn as a mule. ~ Christina Mobley

Ordering a man to write a poem is like commanding a pregnant woman to give birth to a red-headed child. ~ Carl Sandburg

I never cared for red headed men. I think they look like shrimp boiled to peel. ~ Anita Diamant

I turned toward her with red, puffy eyes. Her own eyes widened with concern, and she froze as she watched me walk into the kitchen, like she was waiting for me to crumple onto the floor and shatter into pieces.

"I'm fine," I said. "It's an emotional book. I'm just getting a glass of water." I reached for the tequila.

She got up and followed me into the kitchen. "That's not water."

"And?"

"It's ten a.m."

"And?"

"You look like you've been crying for an hour straight . . . and you're hitting the hard stuff at - and I repeat - ten a.m."

"Cara, you have the most amazing powers of perception." I looked at the bottle in one hand and the glass in the other, shrugged, set the glass down, and headed back to my room with the bottle only.

"I'm worried about you," Cara called out as I walked away.

"I'm fine. Just gonna sit in here, read, and have myself a little mental health day." I turned and smiled and then locked myself in my room.

"Mental health days don't usually involve tequila at ten a.m.!" she yelled through the door.

"I'm fine! ~ Renee Carlino

Don't think I won't know if you're lying, I know how many bases you've been on, you red headed puritan. I will be able to tell fact from fiction. ~ Quinn Loftis

Charlie Brown: I think lunchtime is about the worst time of day for me. Always having to sit here alone. Of course, sometimes, mornings aren't so pleasant either. Waking up and wondering if anyone would really miss me if I never got out of bed. Then there's the night, too. Lying there and thinking about all the stupid things I've done during the day. And all those hours in between when I do all those stupid things. Well, lunchtime is among the worst times of the day for me. Well, I guess I'd better see what I've got. Peanut butter. Some psychiatrists say that people who eat peanut butter sandwiches are lonely...I guess they're right. And when you're really lonely, the peanut butter sticks to the roof of your mouth. There's that cute little red-headed girl eating her lunch over there. I wonder what she would do if I went over and asked her if I could sit and have lunch with her?...She'd probably laugh right in my face...it's hard on a face when it gets laughed in. There's an empty place next to her on the bench. There's no reason why I couldn't just go over and sit there. I could do that right now. All I have to do is stand up...I'm standing up!...I'm sitting down. I'm a coward. I'm so much of a coward, she wouldn't even think of looking at me. She hardly ever does look at me. In fact, I can't remember her ever looking at me. Why shouldn't she look at me? Is there any reason in the world why she shouldn't look at me? Is she so great, and I'm so small, that she can't spare one ~ Clark Gesner

Lucy headed home, taking Charles Avenue over to Oak Grove, where some of the loveliest gardens in town resided. She walked alen the sidewalk, lingering longer in the shady patches, admiring the rose- bushes in riotous palettes of red, pink, yellow, and mauve. They spilled out over fences, showy and untamed, perfuming the air with their spicy-sweet scent. She understood that such inflated beauty was likely the result of witchcraft, but that didn't lessen its allure. ~ Janet Hill

Toward an Organic Philosophy

SPRING, COAST RANGE
The glow of my campfire is dark red and flameless,
The circle of white ash widens around it.
I get up and walk off in the moonlight and each time
I look back the red is deeper and the light smaller.
Scorpio rises late with Mars caught in his claw;
The moon has come before them, the light
Like a choir of children in the young laurel trees.
It is April; the shad, the hot headed fish,
Climbs the rivers; there is trillium in the damp canyons;
The foetid adder's tongue lolls by the waterfall.
There was a farm at this campsite once, it is almost gone now.
There were sheep here after the farm, and fire
Long ago burned the redwoods out of the gulch,
The Douglas fir off the ridge; today the soil
Is stony and incoherent, the small stones lie flat
And plate the surface like scales.
Twenty years ago the spreading gully
Toppled the big oak over onto the house.
Now there is nothing left but the foundations
Hidden in poison oak, and above on the ridge,
Six lonely, ominous fenceposts;
The redwood beams of the barn make a footbridge
Over the deep waterless creek bed;
The hills are covered with wild oats
Dry and white by midsummer.
I walk in the random survivals of the orchard.
In a patch of moonlight a mole
Shakes his tunnel like an angry vein;
Orion walks waist deep in the ~ Kenneth Rexroth

It's true what they say about red-headed chicks, you know, they all have a wee bit of crazy in them. ~ Karina Halle

And then she set to work, washing fresh blueberries that sat on the counter, before grabbing a big colander. Sam headed into the backyard, whose lawn backed acres of woods. Blackberries and raspberries grew wild and thick in the brambles that sat at the edge of the woods. Sam carefully navigated her way through the thorny vines, her thin running shirt catching and snagging on a thorn.
"Darn it," she mumbled.
Blackberries are red when they're green, she could hear her grandfather telling her when they used to pick the fruit. But today, a brilliant summer day, the blackberries were deep purple, almost black, and each one resembled a mini beehive.
Sam plucked and popped a fresh blackberry, already warm from the sun, into her mouth, savoring the natural sweetness, and picked until her colander was half full before easing her way through the woods to find a raspberry bush thick with fruit. She navigated her way out of the brambles and headed back to the kitchen, where she preheated the oven and began to wash the blackberries and raspberries.
Sam pulled cold, unsalted butter from the fridge and began to cube it, some flour and sugar from the cupboard, a large bowl, and then she located her grandmother's old pastry blender.
Sam made the crust and then rolled it into a ball, lightly flouring it and wrapping it in plastic before placing it in the refrigerator. Then she started in on the filling, mixing the berries, sugar, flour, and fresh orange juice. ~ Viola Shipman

She blinked. "Hmm? Oh, don't care. What did Anubis look like to you?"
"What did ... he looked like a guy. So?"
"A good-looking guy, or a slobbering dog-headed guy?"
"I guess ... Not the dog-headed guy."
"I knew it!" Sadie pointed at me as if she'd won an argument.
"Good-looking. I knew it!"
And with a ridiculous grin, she spun around and skipped into the house.
My sister, as I may have mentioned, is a little strange. ~ Rick Riordan

I have made a mistake. They condemn me to death and I ask for a boy to coach me for it. A red-headed boy, who gobbles his buttered bread and toddles to his horse with the seat of his pants wet, this is the young man they hope will get me on my knees, full of prayer. This is the young man I hope will be able to help me, although with what and how I cannot think. ~ Hannah Kent

Me boat's on the slipway, and I don't want Old Bill clambering all over it. I'll be up for the funeral, see you then.' Joe was examining the tightly packed envelopes in the bag. 'Get rid of them quick, Yos,' he warned. With that, he left, that stocky little loyal sailor who had come to the end of his life of crime. At midnight after the bar had closed, the rest of the boys gathered in the office. That red-headed ~ Lena Kennedy

The Egyptians would sacrifice red-headed men on the tomb of Osiris because red was the colour associated with Set, the Egyptian version of Satan. ~ David Icke

Grover murmured, "Well, Percy, what have we learned today?"
That three-headed dogs prefer red rubber balls over sticks?"
No," Grover told me. "We've learned that your plans really, really bite! ~ Rick Riordan

After all,' Magnus remarked aloud to himself, swinging his monkey-headed cane, 'attractive and interesting persons do not simply drop out of the sky.'
It was then that the fair-headed Shadowhunter that Magnus had spotted at the Institute somersaulted from the top of a wall and landed gracefully in the street before him.
'Devastating ensembles made on Bond Street with red brocade waistcoats do not simply drop out of the sky!' Magnus proclaimed experimentally to the Heavens. ~ Cassandra Clare

See ... I knew baby Marissa was quality people, look how she's eating the head off the red-headed Artemis doll. Simi need to teach her to belch fire, then introduce her to the real heifer-Goddess herself(Simi) ~ Sherrilyn Kenyon

It's said that sport is the civilised society's substitute for war, and also that the games we play as children are designed to prepare us for the realities of adult life. Certainly it's true that my brother thrived in the capitalist kindergarten of the Monopoly board, developing a set of ruthless strategies whose success is reflected in his bank balance even to this day. I, on the other hand, can still be undone by the kind of ridiculous sentimentality that would see me sacrifice anything, anything, in order to have the three matching red-headed cards of Fleet Street, Trafalgar Square and The Strand sitting tidily together on my side of the board. ~ Danielle Wood

Well,that was fun," she said lightly as he maneuvered out of the lot. "I'm really glad you talked me into going out. My day was a blank page until seven."
That long, quiet moment lingered in his mind even as it lingered in Shelby's. Alan shifted, hoping to ease the thudding in the pit of his stomach. "Always happy to help someone fill in a few empty spaces." Alan controlled the speed of the car through force of will. Holding her hadn't soothed him but rather had only served to remind him how much time had passed since he had last held her.
"Actually you're an easy man to be with, Alan, for a politician." Easy? Shelby repeated to herself as she pressed the button to lower her window. Her blood was still throbbing from a meeting of eyes that had lasted less than ten seconds. If he was any easier, she'd be head over heels in love with him and headed for disaster. "I mean,you're not really pompous."
He shot her a look, long and cool, that boosted her confidence. "No?" he murmured after a humming silence.
"Hardly at all." Shelby sent him a smile. "Why,I'd probably vote for you myself."
Alan paused at a red light, studying it thoughtfully before he turned to her. "Your insults aren't as subtle today, Shelby."
"Insults?" Shelby gave him a bland stare. "Odd,I thought it was more flattery.Isn't a vote what it all comes down to? Votes, and that all-encompassing need to win."
The light stayed green for five full seconds before he cruised through it. "B ~ Nora Roberts

Tell me,' I said. 'Tell me when you notice me.'
I notice you going into church,' Joshua said. 'I notice your hair, how blond it is. But how in some light it looks like it has red in it. I notice the way you smell when we're close. And the way you walk when we're headed home from church and your family gets out of the Temple first. I notice how you are with your family and how you hold your little sisters. I've seen you stand out on your doorstep and look across the desert. I've watched you walk toward the Compound fence and then on past that. You've been walking for years. ~ Carol Lynch Williams

Red Brocade"

The Arabs used to say,
When a stranger appears at your door,
feed him for three days
before asking who he is,
where he's come from,
where he's headed.
That way, he'll have strength
enough to answer.
Or, by then you'll be
such good friends
you don't care.

Let's go back to that.
Rice? Pine nuts?
Here, take the red brocade pillow.
My child will serve water
to your horse.

No, I was not busy when you came!
I was not preparing to be busy.
That's the armor everyone put on
to pretend they had a purpose
in the world.

I refuse to be claimed.
Your plate is waiting.
We will snip fresh mint
into your tea. ~ Naomi Shihab Nye

Your grandfather were a quiet and secret man he had been ripped from his home in Tipperary and transported to the prisons of Van Diemen's Land I do not know what was done to him he never spoke of it. When they had finished with their tortures they set him free and he crossed the sea to the colony of Victoria. He were by this time 30 yr. of age red headed and freckled with his eyes always slitted against the sun. My da had sworn an oath to evermore avoid the attentions of the law so when he saw the streets of Melbourne was crawling with policemen worse than flies he walked 28 mi. to the township of Donnybrook and then or soon thereafter he seen my mother. Ellen Quinn were 18 yr. old she were dark haired and slender the prettiest figure on a horse he ever saw but your grandma was like a snare laid out by God for Red Kelly. She were a Quinn and the police would never leave the Quinns alone. ~ Peter Carey

He just wanted to get through his uninteresting day, so he could cross over into the night, and find his way to the red headed light that brightened the black sky. ~ Allie Burke

On this side of the wall is our house; in our backyard there is nothing. Nothing but red dust and round-headed black ants streaming and one juicy banana trunk stabbed brown--jab jab jab--never dead. I am always looking over the wall for Tissa. ~ Romesh Gunesekera

So you realized that there were always women in tears, or a red-headed man, or something else to spoil your effects?"

"Yes, naturally. ~ Jean-Paul Sartre

Richard goes with a bob of the head but without another word. It seems he interprets 'don't tell anybody' as 'don't tell anybody but Rafe', because ten minutes later Rafe comes in, and stands looking at him, with his eyebrows raised. Red-headed people can look quite strained when they are raising eyebrows that aren't really there. ~ Hilary Mantel

They were headed back to Henrietta in the Pig, Gansey's furiously orange-red ancient Camaro. Gansey drove, because when it was the Camaro, he always drove. And the conversation was about Glendower, because when you were with Gansey, the conversation was almost always about Glendower. ~ Maggie Stiefvater

The root of all human misfortune and suffering was that red European specter that the lion-headed man with the tobacco pipe had boasted had put down roots in this land, the seed of that red mushroom! ~ Bandi

Couldn't I try...Naturally, it wouldn't be a question of a tune...But couldn't I in another medium?...It would have to be a book: I don't know how to do anything else. But not a history book: history talks about what has existed - an existent can never justify the existence of another existent. My mistake was to try to resuscitate Monsieur de Rollebon. Another kind of book. I don't quite know which kind - but you would have to guess, behind the printed words, behind the pages, something which didn't exist, which was above existence. The sort of story, for example, which could never happen, an adventure. It would have to be beautiful and hard as steel and make people ashamed of their existence.

I am going, I feel irresolute. I dare not make a decision. If I were sure that I had talent...but I have never, never written anything of that sort; historical articles, yes - if you could call them that. A book. A novel. And there would be people who would read this novel and who would say: 'It was Antoine Roquentin who wrote it, he was a red-headed fellow who hung about in cafés', and they would think that about my life as I think about the life of the Negress: as about something precious and almost legendary. A book. Naturally, at first it would only be a tedious, tiring job, it wouldn't prevent me from existing or from feeling that I exist. But a time would have to come when the book would be written, would be behind me, and I think that a little of its light would fall o ~ Jean-Paul Sartre

Let me BBQ the red headed bitch goddess - Simi ~ Sherrilyn Kenyon

A story demanded to be written, and that is why I have not answered your letter before: a wrong-headed story, that would come blundering like a moth on my window, and stare in with small red eyes, and I the last writer in the world to manage such a subject. One should have more self-control. One should be able to say, Go away. You have come to the wrong inkstand, there is nothing for you here. But I am so weakminded that I cannot even say, Come next week. ~ Sylvia Townsend Warner