Snot Quotes

Your grandma is a magician. Remember that time when you fell off your bicycle and she lifted you up onto the kitchen counter? She cleaned your bloody knees, washed the tears and snot off your face, told you funny stories and tickled your stomach until you giggled so hard it made you hiccup. The tears, the blood, the pain, your mum's closed bedroom door - all vanished, as if your grandma had waved a wand - sim sala bim! Hard to keep your smile off your face now, no? She did such things. Still does. A trickster, she is. Always full of pranks and laughter. Like now, looking so wrinkled and pale in her bed, not responding. Bet she opens her eyes any moment now with that mischievous grin of hers, pleased she fooled you. You'll both double over in laughing fits. Any moment now.
From: "Grandma's Tricks", In-flight literary magazine issue 4 2015 ~ Margrét Helgadóttir

Summer is a Latvian chicken. We make foolish choices. We think we're young again. We run with outstretched arms toward an object of love and it pecks us and pecks us until we're standing there snot-nosed and teary in the middle of Astor Place and the sun sets fire to our Penguin shirts and all that is left to do is go to our air-conditioned homes and ponder the cruelty of our finest season. ~ Gary Shteyngart

I fucking hate tomato juice! It's like drinking red snot. ~ MaryJanice Davidson

With Graham Greene life is a precious, perpetual, snot-sodden whinge. ~ John Crowley

F. Franklin the Fourth has a job with a firm rich in heritage, money and pretentiousness, a firm vastly superior to Brodnax and Speer. His sidekicks at the moment are W. Harper Whittenson, an arrogant little snot who will, thankfully, leave Memphis and practice with a mega-firm in Dallas; J. Townsend Gross, who has accepted a position with another huge firm; and James Straybeck, a sometimes friendly sort who's suffered three years of law school without an initial to place before his name or numerals to stick after it. With such a short name, his future as a big-firm lawyer is in jeopardy. I doubt if he'll make it. ~ John Grisham

I'm a writer. If I'm staring at you, I'm not being rude. I'm trying to decide if you need to go in a book.
If you're a snot, I may be trying to decide how to kill you. ~ Anonymous

You arrogant little snot (John Hammond) ~ Michael Crichton

Famously in 1936, Oswald Mosley led a march of his British black shirts through a mostly Jewish neighborhood, in the east end of London. What resulted was what they called the "Battle of Cable Street", where Oswald Mosley and his fascists basically got the snot beaten out of them when East London rose up against them and beat them up. ~ Rachel Maddow

My life was once whiskey, tears and cigarettes ... now it's snot, tears and a color of poop. Bliss. I do miss the whiskey, though. ~ Pink

You're a talking cat?" Endora asked with a look of disbelief on her face.
"My, my, my, aren't you the bright bulb of the bunch," he replied with a bit of snarky smugness. "Tell me then, bright-bulb, do you suppose that I need your permission to talk just because I'm a cat?" He raised his paw to his face, admiring his newly gnawed manicure. After he observed the last nail, he slapped his paw down on the floorboards, making a low thud sound. "Because I don't," he smirked.
Endora was taken by surprise at his rudeness. She stared back at him, speechless and not quite sure how to respond.
"Are you a magic cat?" Mila busted in with a question that seemed as silly to her as to the cat.
He glared and narrowed his eyes at her. "A magic cat," he said, standing up to arch his furry back. "Is my talking some sort of magic to you? If it is… then I am." He stretched his back higher and let out a long purr that turned into, "Purrhaps, you four little witchy girls should clearly refine your meaning of magic so you know what it means before you say the word magic."
"I rather am quite fond of talking cats," Selena said with a big smile. "Of course, you're the first one I've ever seen."
The cat narrowed its eyes tighter. "Indeed," he said, letting out a yawn as if the whole conversation were a bore. He leapt off the porch and dash away, mumbling and grumbling his way down the corridor.
Selena looked over at Endora. "Rude little snot, isn't he?" she said. ~ Sophie Palmer

He barked a laugh before nudging my leg with his wet nose. "Ew, Caeden! You got wolf snot all over my leg!" I left him behind the bush as I stared at the wet mess on my leg. His barking laughter quickly turned to human laughter.
"Wolf snot?" he grinned.
"Yes, and it's all over my leg. It's gross," I complained. "Just because we can change into wolves doesn't mean we need to act like them all the time. ~ Micalea Smeltzer

I was a snot-nosed teenage skater at one point, who listened to only punk records and hung around people that had that idea of what is okay to do and what isn't okay to do. ~ Ariel Rechtshaid

In LA, you can't do anything unless you drive. Now I can't do anything unless I drink. And the drink-drive combination, it really isn't possible out there. If you so much as loosen your seatbelt or drop your ash or pick your nose, then it's an Alcatraz autopsy with the questions asked later. Any indiscipline, you feel, any variation, and there's a bullhorn, a set of scope sights, and a coptered pig drawing a bead on your rug.
So what can a poor boy do? You come out of the hotel, the Vraimont. Over boiling Watts the downtown skyline carries a smear of God's green snot. You walk left, you walk right, you are a bank rat on a busy river. This restaurant serves no drink, this one serves no meat, this one serves no heterosexuals. You can get your chimp shampooed, you can get your dick tattooed, twenty-four hour, but can you get lunch? And should you see a sign on the far side of the street flashing BEEF-BOOZE – NO STRINGS, then you can forget it. The only way to get across the road is to be born there. All the ped-xing signs say DON'T WALK, all of them, all the time. That is the message, the content of Los Angeles: don't walk. Stay inside. Don't walk. Drive. Don't walk. Run! ~ Martin Amis

In the past, dictionaries had been less scientific, and definitions often crudely brief. One example historians like to cite is the definition of 'mucus' in John Kersey's Dictionarium Anglo-Britannicum (1708) as 'snot or snivel'. Johnson, by contrast, defers to the authority of the medic John Quincy, and defines 'mucus' as 'that which flows from the papillary processes through the os cribriforme into the nostrils'. Kersey exemplifies the simplicity of the older dictionaries. He defines 'coffin' as 'a case for a dead body', 'penis' as 'a man's yard', 'eye' as 'the wonderful instrument of sight', ~ Henry Hitchings

The practice of segregation still meant that Sonny had to see white people sitting at the front of every bus he took, that he got called "boy" by every other snot-nosed white kid in sight. The practice of segregation meant that he had to feel his separateness as inequality, and that was what he could not take. ~ Yaa Gyasi

That could be a problem," Glo said, "since I seem to have made a combination of two spells. But here's the good news. I didn't have any powdered newt snot, so the spell is most likely temporary. ~ Janet Evanovich

I feel like I'm a big human snot. ~ Robin Williams

Payback's a bitch, but thankfully those tissues are only full of snot and tears instead of dead little sperms. ~ Toni Aleo

You ever think about having kids?"
"All the time.I´d love to have a houseful. Then one of my nieces or nephews turns Exorsist on me and spews the most discusting things imaginable out both ends - things that make the demon snot feel like a bubble bath. That usually cures me of that stupidity for at least a day or two." (Sam & Dev) ~ Sherrilyn Kenyon

And who are you supposed to be? the King of snot-nosed delinquents? ~ Michael Buckley

Finally, finally, I was thrown into this tiny, dark cell. It all went quiet. But I instantly noticed the warmth. And I could just make out the shape of the room under the crack in my blindfold.
I waited.
I was half-naked with my camouflage jacket pulled back halfway down my back, and I was huddled over shivering. I must have looked a mess.
I could taste the snot smeared down my face.
A hand pulled my blindfold off and a light went on.
"Recognize this, Bear?" a voice said softly.
I squinted. The DS was pointing at a white cross on his arm. I didn't react. I needed to double-check in my mind.
"This means the end of the exercise--Endex. Remember?"
I did, but still I didn't react yet. I needed to check once more in my mind. Then, finally, I nodded weakly at him. And he smiled back.
It was the end.
"Well done, buddy. Now take a seat, take five, and get this brew down you. The quack will be in to see you in a few minutes."
The DS put a blanket around my shoulders. A smile spread across my face and I felt a tear of relief trickle down my cheek.
For an hour a psychiatrist then debriefed me. He told me that I had done well and had resisted effectively. I felt just so relieved. I loved that psychiatrist.
The real lesson of this was twofold: Control your mind; and Don't get caught.
As the DS said, "Remember, at the end of the day, these guys are on your side. They are British, they aren't a real enemy. If they were, ~ Bear Grylls

Can he keep from throwing his hissy fit until he gets to the cauldron?"
"I don't know. You're not impressed by his warp spasm, huh?"
He grimaced. "It's abhorrent. Total loss of control. No beauty to it, no symmetry. His eye was hanging out on his cheek like some piece of snot. No, I'm not impressed."
"I can try to keep a lid on him until we get to the cauldron." I made a pun, but he wasn't in the mood to notice.
"No."
"What do you mean no?"
"No, you're not going with him."
I crossed my arms. "Who decided that?"
He put on his "I'm alpha and I'm putting my foot down" expression. "I decided."
"You don't get to decide. I'm not under your authority."
"Yes, you are. Without you the fight will happen, but without me and the Pack, it won't. I command the superior force, therefore I'm in charge. You and your army of one can put yourself under my authority or you can take a walk."
"You don't think I can do it, is that it?"
"No, I want you where I can see you."
"Why?"
His lip quivered with the beginning of a snarl. His face relaxed, as he brought himself under control. "Because that's how I want it," he said, using a slow, patience voice reserved for rowdy children and disagreeable mental patients. It drove me to the edge of reason. I really wanted to punch him. ~ Ilona Andrews

He referred to Pope Paul III as "His Hellishness." Were not the pope and his associates at least members of the church? Yes, as much as spit, snot, pus, feces, urine, stench, scab, smallpox, ulcers, and syphilis are members of the body. Luther was never one to mince words. ~ Timothy George

Witch' is just a religion, okay? No baby-sacrificing, no Black Masses, no sending imps out to scare the dog-snot out of kids, trying to make them think they're crazy. We don't do things like that. Our number-one law is 'Have fun in this lifetime, but don't hurt anybody.'
Nice little paraphrase of "An it harm none, do as ye will" if I do say so myself. ~ Mercedes Lackey

No truth on this goddamn planet ever made its way out of your mouth. If truth was hanging out of your nose you'd blow that goddamn truth bugger into a snot rag and toss it into a fire pit ~ Vera Jane Cook

What's so funny?" Bella mumbled.
"I got food in her hair," I told her, chortling again.
"I'm not going to forget this, dog," Rosalie hissed.
"S'not so hard to erase a blond's memory," I countered. "Just blow in her ear."
Get some new jokes, "Rosalie snapped. ~ Stephenie Meyer

And you used my heart as a Kleenex," Nellie sang. "But you're the one full of snot! ~ Clifford Riley

To enjoy rodeo properly, you gotta be close enough to see the snot fly. ~ Cat Johnson

Hey!" Sam snapped, ducking the sticky shrapnel. "Keep your snot to yourself."
Dev scoffed at that. "Oh, so now you don't want to touch me, huh?" He tsked. "What is it with women? the instant you put a little slime on them, they get squeamish and have no more use for you. ~ Sherrilyn Kenyon

Really? Well, you'd definitely be interested in the fact that I just read To Kill A Mockingbird."
I smiled and elbowed him. "Everyone's read that."
I've read it five times."
Nu-uh."
Yep. I can even quote parts of it."
That's bullpoopie."
And then Stark, my big, bad, macho Warrior raised his voice, put on a little girl's Southern drawl, and said, "'Uncle Jack? What's a whore-lady?'"
I do not think that's the most important quote from that book," I said, but laughed anyway.
Okay, how about: 'Ain't no snot-nosed slut of a schoolteacher ever born c'n make me do nothin.!' That one's really my favorite."
You got a twisted mind, James Stark. ~ Kristin Cast

About 25 years ago, I took a bicycle across the United States. I soon found out that the greatest item of clothing was the trusty bandanna. There were dozens of uses for a bandanna - as a pot holder, a chain cleaner, a sun shield, a headband, a snot rag, a declaration of Kerouacian intent. ~ Colum McCann

Jeb presses my knuckles to his chest. "No. I'll go. You fly back with bug snot." "Of course," Morpheus interrupts, his voice edged with something between sarcasm and suggestiveness. "I'll be happy to take Alyssa back with me. We can pick up where we left off in my bedroom, right, luv? ~ A.G. Howard

Caroline: 'You know Sora. I don't. It will hurt you. It won't hurt me. Nothing hurts me.'
Lake: 'Liar. Just breathing hurts you so bad, you want to beat the snot out of something. ~ Jennifer Lynn Barnes

Scout," said Atticus, "nigger-lover is just one of those terms that don't mean anything - like snot-nose. It's hard to explain - ignorant, trashy people use it when they think somebody's favoring Negroes over and above themselves. It's slipped into usage with some people like ourselves, when they want a common, ugly term to label somebody." "You aren't really a nigger-lover, then, are you?" "I certainly am. I do my best to love everybody . . . I'm hard put, sometimes - baby, it's never an insult to be called what somebody thinks is a bad name. It just shows you how poor that person is, it doesn't hurt you. So don't let Mrs. Dubose get you down. She has enough troubles of her own." One ~ Harper Lee

You make someone into a object of – not so much of pity as of weakness, sickness, stupidity, inefectiveness, do you see what I mean? You hit them for their stupidity and their inability to respond, and when you've hurt them, marked them, they're even more sick and ugly, aren't they? And they're afraid and cringing too. Oh, I know this isn't very pleasant, but you did ask."
"Go on" he said.
"So you've got a frightened, stupid, even disabled person, silenced, made ugly, and what can you do with someone like that, someone who's unworthy of being treated well? You treat them badly because that's what they deserve. One thinks of poor little kids that no one love because they're dirty, sovered in snot and shit, and always screaming. So you beat them because they're hateful, they're low, they're sub-human. That's all they're good for, being hit, being reduced even further. ~ Ruth Rendell

Not a wonder you are out camping with us princess," Rizz said dryly.
Falita gave a clearing snort of her opposite nostril and looked up. "Why's that?"
"One can't go snorting and blowing snot all over a castle. It would ruin the décor!"
Falita ignored the comment. "A bath would certainly freshen things up."
"You've bathed three times in five days. How many more baths do you need?" Artamos asked.
"Enough to stay clean, and I don't recall either of you bathing on this trip."
"I don't need to Princess," Rizz replied. "I have my own naturally sweet odor."
Falita scrunched up her nose, "I'm aware of that, and it is not pleasing in camp. ~ M.L. Hall

Ideas are self-replenishing, like snot ~ Steve Aylett

Melanie: well, tell him
wanda: what will happen then?
melanie: you know what will happen. kyle broke the rules. jeb will shoot him, or they'll kick him ou. meybe ian will beat the snot out of him first.that would be fun to watch. ~ Stephenie Meyer

There will come a time when a person you most likely pushed out through your vagina and nursed from your
nipples, whose bottom you wiped, and whose snot and spit you cleaned up over several sleep-starved years will apprehend you with a mixture of boredom and irritation and say, 'Get a life, Mum.'
This would be a good time to remember that a) violence never solved anything; b) teenagers don't have a full brain yet – the prefrontal cortex that controls the ability to make important distinctions, like who controls the pocket money, only kicks in around the age of twenty-four; and c) you are, in fact, the adult. ~ Joanne Fedler

He wipes tears off my face and then snot. He uses his hands. He loves me that much. ~ Nina LaCour

The worst thing about falling in love with her so early in life was that he'd been an absolute snot at fourteen, at once arrogant and self-pitying. Almost as bad was the fact that he'd been nearly half a foot shorter than she at their first meeting - she'd been five foot nine, and he barely five foot four. Though she was only a few weeks older than he was, she'd looked upon him as a child - while he broiled with the heat and anguish of first love.
When nothing else garnered him her attention, he turned horrid. She was disgusted by this midget who tried to trick her into broom closets to steal kisses, and he was at once miserable and thrilled. Disgust was better than indifference; anything was better than indifference. ~ Sherry Thomas

But if you're determined to make me swallow calories, there's a six-pack of Ensure in the fridge. In my opinion it tastes like chilled snot, but I can choke it down. ~ Stephen King

Squeeze some lemon on it, a dab of hot sauce, throw the oyster down the back of your throat, take a shot of vodka, and try to forget you just ate snot from a rock. ~ Jim Gaffigan

They say if you're a better person today than you were yesterday you're well on the road to perfection. So I figure if I'm a real snot today, tomorrow I should make huge progress. ~ Richelle E. Goodrich

But that wasn't why the boy, whose name was Will but who also answered to "Useless" and "Hopeless" and "Snot-Face" and "Sniveler" (at least when the alchemist was the one calling to him), felt sorry for himself. ~ Lauren Oliver

Parenthood is shit, snot, slime, fear, tears, spit, and spills. It's as intense as combat, which is to say hours of tedium relieved by moments of alarm and flashes of joy to remind you that you're alive. It is intensely practical and profoundly square, even if you're not. It's feeding, wiping, and picking up. ~ Scott Simon

We swallow our quiet snot together. ~ Sean Kilpatrick

We have a Daimon walk into the bar in broad daylight, and now a demon sliming Dev. I don´t know about you, but that doesn´t seem coincidental to me."
"I agree. Snot funny. ~ Sherrilyn Kenyon

I'll find out who's inside. Wait here and keep alert!' Hallam rasped. He skirted the main path to skulk towards one of the shuttered windows on the building's eastern wall. There was a crack in the wood and he gently inched closer to peer inside.
There was a hearth-fire with a pot bubbling away and a battered table made of a length of wood over two pieces of cut timber. A small ham hung from the rafters, away from the rats and mice. He couldn't see anyone but there was a murmur of voices. Hallam leaned in even closer and a young boy with hair the colour of straw saw the movement to stare. It was Little Jim. Thank God, the child was safe. Snot hung from his nose and he was pale. Hallam put a finger to his lips, but the boy, not even four, did not understand, and just gaped innocently back.
Movement near the window. A man wearing a blue jacket took up a stone bottle and wiped his long flowing moustache afterwards. His hair was shoulder-length, falling unruly over the red collar of his jacket. Tied around his neck was a filthy red neckerchief. A woman moaned and the man grinned with tobacco stained teeth at the sound. Laughter and French voices. The woman whimpered and Little Jim turned to watch unseen figures. His eyes glistened and his bottom lip dropped. The woman began to plead and Hallam instinctively growled.
The Frenchman, hearing the noise, pushed the shutter open and the pistol's cold muzzle pressed against his forehead.
Hallam watched the man's eye ~ David Cook

And suddenly I started to cry. Serious sobs, the kind where your stomach hurts and you can't breathe and there's snot running down your face. I was crying so hard I couldn't even mute the sounds I was making, and Luke put his hand on my back and I thought about how everyone would think that I was crying because of Stacy's fucking speech and I wanted to kill someone. I wanted to kill someone and I wanted to die and I wanted to run as far and as fast as I could. ~ Melissa Kantor

Love or affection towards an individual or nation, is indicated by good action snot merely be words. The adoration towards nation is expressed by works of welfare equally done by the ruler and theruled. The ruler himself must be engatged, in welfare of th country and also should select officials examining their involvement with the public god. Self-centered people greedy of the power should be kept away ~ Chanakya

Explain to Atticus that it wasn't so much what Francis said that had infuriated me as the way he had said it. "It was like he'd said snot-nose or somethin'." "Scout," said Atticus, "nigger-lover is just one of those terms that don't mean anything - like snot-nose. It's hard to explain - ignorant, trashy people use it when they think somebody's favoring Negroes over and above themselves. It's slipped into usage with some people like ourselves, when they want a common, ugly term to label somebody." "You aren't really a nigger-lover, then, are you?" "I certainly am. I do my best to love everybody . . . I'm ~ Harper Lee

There was a saying in Gilead: Let evil wait for the day on which it must fall." "Uh-huh," Eddie said. "There was a saying in Brooklyn: You can't get snot off a suede jacket. ~ Stephen King

An hour seldom passed in which she didn't either sneeze, pick her nose, or wipe a bogie onto her snot-encrusted sleeve. But she had such a lovely colour. That pink glow which comes with the flu used to engulf her like an aura. It suited her. She always looked so damn effervescent. ~ Joss Sheldon

A visible shiver ran through Arthur. "Can you imagine letting him touch you? Be like kissing a snake that'd been dipped in snot."
"Oh, now there's a mental image." Eric wrinkled his nose. "You have such a talent for description. ~ Cecilia Ryan

But it felt good to cry, to let her shoulders shake, to feel the hot tears on her face, to taste their baby salt, to wipe snot all over the underside of her shirt. ~ Dave Eggers

Are you done crying now?" he asks.
I laugh again. "You're such an asshole."
"I was going to talk to you," he says, "but you might blow snot on me with all that blubbering. ~ J.M. Darhower

A long hug when you really need it Sometimes we all get rattled. When bad news surprises you, painful memories flash back, or heavy moments turn your stomach to mush, it's great to fall into a warm and comforting pair of big, wide open arms. Shaking with sobs, dripping with tears, you snort up your runny nose and smear snot across their shoulder as that hug relaxes you and comforts you and helps you get through everything, even for a minute, even for a moment. Maybe there are "It's going to be okay" whispers, some gentle back rubbing, or just the quiet silence of knowing that they're not going to let go until you let go first. As their steady arms support you, and the pain washes over you, the hug gives you a warm glow in a shivery moment. So when you eventually pull back, smile that classic "I'm sorry and thank you" smile, and swipe wet bangs off your forehead, you still might not feel great, but if you're lucky you'll feel a little more AWESOME! ~ Neil Pasricha

Mellas continued to look at the wallet, saying nothing. Hawke, who had been watching Mellas through the steam that rose from his pear-can coffee mug, handed Mellas the cup. Mellas gave a brief smile and took a drink. His hand was shaking. Hawke said in a calm voice, 'Something happened. You want to talk about it?'

Mellas didn't answer right away. Then he said, 'I think I know where the gooks are.' He pulled out his map and pointed to the spot, his hand still trembling.

'How do you know that, Mel?' Hawke asked.

'From the direction he crawled after he was shot.' Mellas tossed the wallet down at Fitch. Then he dug into his pocket and pulled out the soldier's unit and rank patches. he looked at them, then at Fitch and Hawke, who were no longer eating. 'I let him crawl toward home with his guts hanging out.' He started sobbing. 'I just left him there.' Snot was streaming from his nose. 'I'm so sorry. I'm so fucking sorry.' His hands were now shaking with his body as he clenched the two pieces of cloth to his eyes. ~ Karl Marlantes

Are you actually laughing at me? Seriously?" Janie rubs her hair with a towel. "I almost died out there. Plus my brain is now infested with plankton and carp shit. You'd better watch it, or I'll blow a snot rocket at you."
"I'm ... eww. That's disgusting." Cabe laughs. "But seriously, you really should have seen yourself. Right, Megan? I wish I had a video camera. ~ Lisa McMann

There are many things that bother me. I know that I have never passed a man on the street that I liked - most of them giving off a kind of ether of disgust and stumbling and clay-eating, snot-eating grievance. I don't like the human race at all. this is my confessional, father, pass the wine. ~ Charles Bukowski

I felt tears coming and for some reason, buried my head in Iain's chest. It was firm and muscled and he smelt so wonderful.
I realised what I was doing and pulled away, but a big string of snot hung between my nose and his shirt pocket. ~ Robert Bryndza

One of the first rules of an interview was not to believe in tears unless the snot was flowing. ~ Marc Cameron

Heat radiated off Henry's face. Salty snot ran down his upper lip. A majestic fart propelled him to the top of Section 12, just at the springing of the stadium's curve. He slapped the sign as if high-fiving a teamate. It gave back a game shudder. He was crusing now, darkness be damned, stripping off his sweatshirt and his long underwear top without breaking stride. ~ Chad Harbach

You don't need a reason to be upset. I think you've had a breakdown, Liam." Breakdown, relapse, binge, craving. A big fucking mess. Fucking walking disaster. But Ali lets me cry myself dry while ruining his shirt. When I finally stop, he asks, "Will you go to a detox? Sasha can ask his counsellor for an emergency placement. Perhaps we can persuade them you're a danger to yourself?" Hearing those words, I chuckle through my tears. "I know I'm a danger to myself." Ali smiles. "Yeah. And to me." "What do you mean?" I have to clean some of my snot with the bottom of my T-shirt. It doesn't matter anyway since the clothes I'm wearing are dirty and probably need to be fumigated. His grin broadens. "Well, I'm dangerously close to caring too much about you." I shake my head. Ali's a big softie but I can't think about romance right now ~ A. Zukowski

You must be desperate if you're asking Mom for adivce. Did she sit you down on the couch ?"
"I'm not a patient of hers, asswipe. I'm her favorite son." Derrick ignored Gage's huff. The little snot. (...)
"Favorite, my ass. She pities you. Gage is nothing more than a baby-maker. I'm the favorite." Dylan preened, pulling at the cuffs on his designer shirt. "Culture, charm, good looks and a real occupation. What's not to love ~ Marie Harte

I loved you when you were a snot-nosed kid, into so much mischief
it's a wonder my hair didn't turn prematurely gray. I loved you when you
were a teenager with long, skinny legs and eyes that broke my heart
every time I looked at you. I love you now that you're a woman who
makes my brain go soft, my legs go weak, and my dick get hard. When
you walk into a room, my heart damn near jumps out of my chest. When
you smile, I feel as if I've won a Nobel Prize. And your eyes still
break my heart. ~ Linda Howard

The great social, moral, and spiritual battles of the ages boiled down to Sandy McDougall slamming her snot-nosed kid in the corner and the kid would grow up and slam his own kid in the corner, world without end, hallelujah, chunky peanut butter. Hail Mary, full of grace, help me win this stock-car race. ~ Stephen King

Do you know what it looks like when a snot-nosed greenhorn like you comes in and finishes his work with no overtime? How are the other guys supposed to justify putting in a few extra hours at time-and-a-half when you're pulling that shit? ~ J. Trevor Robinson

She was crying, silently, holding my arm, crying. I let her cry a while, held her close, felt her snot and tears on my shoulder, wanted to cry myself, why is that, when I hear a child cry on the train it makes me sad, see a stranger weep and feel tears come to my eyes, a weakness, perhaps, a place where emotion hasn't become accustomed to the extremities of feeling. ~ Claire North

There ain't nothin' in this world that's worth being a snot over. ~ Larry Wall

Slicker than snot on a door handle. ~ Kim Harrison

McLarney laughs, then leaps into the parable of Snot Boogie, who joined the neighborhood crap game, waited for the pot to thicken, then grabbed the cash and bolted down the street only to be shot dead by one of the irate players.
"So we're interviewing the witnesses down at the office and they're saying how Snot Boogie would always join the crap game, then run away with the pot, and that they'd finally gotten sick of it ... "
Dave Brown drives in silence, barely tracking this historical digression.
"And I asked one of them, you know, I asked him why they even let Snot Boogie into the game if he always tried to run away with the money."
McLarney pauses for effect.
"And?" asks Brown.
"He just looked at me real bizarre," says McLarney. "And then he says, 'you gotta let him play ... This is America ~ David Simon

You're barely one step up from the Australopithecines, aren't you? (Acheron) Hey, be respectful when you say that, snot nose. Haven't you seen the commercials? Us cavemen are very sensitive people. (Savitar) ~ Sherrilyn Kenyon

You can take Lucas to watch football when he's older,' she once told me. Ah, the rheumy-eyed grandpa on the terraces inducting the lad into the mysteries of soccer: how to loathe people wearing different coloured shirts, how to feign injury, how to blow your snot on to the pitch – See, son, you press hard on one nostril to close it, and explode the green stuff out of the other. How to be vain and overpaid and have your best years behind you before you've even understood what life's about. Oh yes, I look forward to taking Lucas to the football. ~ Julian Barnes

I splash enough water in Chloe's face to put out a small house fire. I don't want to drown her, just exfoliate her eyeballs with sea salt. When she thinks I'm done, she opens her eyes-and her mouth. Big mistake. The next wave rinses off the hangy ball in the back of her throat and makes it to her lungs before she can swallow. She chokes and coughs and rubs her eyes as if she's been maced.
"Great, Emma! You got my new hair wet!" she sputters. "Happy now?"
"Nope."
"I said I was sorry." She blows her nose in her hand, then sets the snot to sea.
"Gross. And sorry's not good enough."
"Fine. I'll make it up to you. What do you want?"
"Let me hold your head underwater until I feel better," I say. I cross my arms, which is tricky when straddling a surfboard being pitched around in the wake of a passing speedboat. Chloe knows I'm nervous being this far out, but holding on would be a sign of weakness.
"I'll let you do that because I love you. But it won't make you feel better."
"I won't know for sure until I try it." I keep eye contact, sit a little straighter.
"Fine. But you'll still look albino when you let me back up." She rocks the board and makes me grab it for balance.
"Get your snotty hands off the surfboard. And I'm not albino. Just white." I want to cross my arms again, but we almost tipped over that time. Swallowing my pride is a lot easier than swallowing the Gulf of Mexico.
"White than most," she grins. "People would th ~ Anna Banks

I have an unfortunately clear view, and I am disgusted to see his finger reemerge covered in snot. He examines his treasure and then sticks his finger in his mouth. ~ Justine Faeth

He and Blake had been busy, and I'd been busy talking to customers about random stuff while they waited. I was surprised by how nice everyone had been - with the exception of Dex's dumb face.

There hadn't been a single biker in the shop either. Weird.

All of this assured me that I'd avoided having to interact much with my boss. The owner. The bleeding mouth sore.

The snot-faced ass**le that I only kind-of, sort-of hoped came down with an infectious illness in his private parts. But you know, something he could get medicine for.

I tried my best to keep from replaying the scenario in the office but it was impossible. It wasn't his tone but the words that had seared me.

And each time, it made me want to cry. It didn't get any easier or any less painful. How the hell could someone be so rude? I didn't understand and I couldn't get over it.

Every cycle had me coming up with different things to call him. A dick. A slimy bastard. A slimy, small-dicked bastard. Right? Maybe he wouldn't be so mad at the world if his pubic hair wasn't longer than his full-blown erection. God, I felt awkward thinking about what he had under his clothes but it was the best insult I could come up with. ~ Mariana Zapata

At first, I was scared to be alone. No routines. No rules. Just me. But I think..." Taylor wiped a tear away. "I think I was always in the jungle. Before. It was always there. I think I had to come out here to find the answer."

"And what did you find?"

"I love myself. They make it so hard for us to love ourselves." Taylor stared off into the dark. Her face gleamed with tears. Snot ran over her lips. "The judges won't like that answer."

"Nobody's judging you."

Taylor choked on a sob. "Always," she whispered. ~ Libba Bray

Before I'd touch a square bitch's slit,
I'd suck a thousand clappy pricks and swim through liquid shit,
They got green puke between their rotten toes,
And snot runs from their funky nose,
I hope square bitches become syphilitic wrecks,
I hope they fall through their own assholes and break their motherfucking necks. ~ Iceberg Slim

It's like you said the other day," said Adam. "You grow up readin' about pirates and cowboys and spacemen and stuff, and jus' when you think the world's full of amazin' things, they tell you it's really all dead whales and chopped-down forests and nucular waste hangin' about for millions of years. 'Snot worth growin' up for, if you ask my opinion. ~ Neil Gaiman

Bodies like this give sexual desire its meaning! It's for this that penises rise like drawbridges and vaginas become engorged with blood! It's for this that people throw snot-nosed kids into ravines, cross raging rivers, or ice-pick up the wrong side of frozen waterfalls! It's for this that politicians undo their flies in election season, porn magazines with their pages stuck together are found stacked in church basements, people chop off body parts and mail them to ex-lovers, risk hair on palms, stolen wallets, planes flying into buildings, and lice that hop like chess figurines on a board whose players are ever changing. ~ Barry Webster

You can't cry about everything in life, Princess. You'd get a nasty headache. Also, snot. Massive amounts of snot. ~ Christie Valentine Powell

Eaten up with guilt, shame, fears and insecurities and obtaining, if he's lucky, a barely perceptible physical feeling, the male is, nonetheless, obsessed with screwing; he'll swim a river of snot, wade nostril-deep through a mile of vomit, if he thinks there'll be a friendly pussy awaiting him. He'll screw a woman he despises, any snaggle-toothed hag, and, further, pay for the opportunity. Why? Relieving physical tension isn't the answer, as masturbation suffices for that. It's not ego satisfaction; that doesn't explain screwing corpses and babies. ~ Valerie Solanas

I totally carpe-d the snot out of this diem! ~ Jerry Scott

There's really not a difference between an octopus and, like, a giant pile of snot. ~ Mike Rowe

Once I managed to get to a sink, staring up out of it at my empty-stomached face was a collection of facial hair, discarded razor blades, plasters, snot and phlegm, all fused together into one stomach churning mass. I retched, but nothing came up. My eyes watered at the festering sight and my stomach was in knots as I ran my hand over the surface of the water. It was freezing cold. I flung the cruel liquid over my hair, then, as if straight from Oliver Twist, I asked one of the two screws that were standing over us like bouncers, 'Is there any toothpaste, sir? ~ Stephen Richards

(Yes teenage boys who are fine always cry on their mothers' shoulders until they leave a snot trail.) ~ Jordan Sonnenblick

When was the last time you had a good belly-shaking-tear-jerking-snot-producing laugh?
That long? ~ Osayi Emokpae Lasisi

Pearl rolled a tiny pink speck in her fingers, possibly part of Rose's new leg that I'd tried so hard to make a good match. Pearl laughed and flicked it away as if it was snot out of her nose. I suddenly couldn't stand it. I rushed at her.She saw I wasn't playing around. She ran for it but I caught up with her along the landing. I punched her hard in the chest and she staggered back wards - back and back, and then she wobbled and went right over, down the stairs. ~ Jacqueline Wilson

They say 'Chaos is the ally of the desperate man,' and I reckon it applies to dwarves and snot-nosed boys too. Let's test is at the front gate, shall we? ~ Gillian Bronte Adams

want?" Kevin asked weakly. James didn't answer the question. "You're now the property of the wolfmen," he grinned. "Mr. Pike has told us that you're a little snot-nosed scaredy-cat. He says you'll never make it through basic training because you're afraid of heights and won't go over the obstacle. Well, until you pull yourself together and stop acting like a pussy, ~ Robert Muchamore

Though I understand the theology behind it, the image does not bring me peace; it makes me feel sorry for the lion. It strips him of his essence, the fundamental part of his being. A lion that does not behave as a lion i snot a lion. It isn't even the lion's opposite. It's a mockery of a lion. ~ Rick Yancey

I was standing outside myself trying to stop those hangings with ghost fingers ... I am a ghost wanting what every ghost wants-a body-after the Long Time moving through odorless alleys of space where no life is, only the colorless no smell of death ... Nobody can breath and smell it through pink convolutions of gristle laced with crystal snot, time shit and black blood filters of flesh. ~ William S. Burroughs

Ah, the rheumy-eyed grandpa on the terraces inducting the lad into the mysteries of soccer: how to loathe people wearing different coloured shirts, how to feign injury, how to blow your snot onto the pitch - See, son, you press hard on one nostril to close it, and explode the green stuff out of the other. How to be vain and overpaid and have your best years behind you before you've even understood what life's about. Oh yes, I look forward to taking Lucas to the football. But ~ Julian Barnes

So . . . what's the plan, then?" Driggs asked, the opaqueness of his body coming and going in waves now, possibly in time with his heartbeat.
"Um - " Uncle Mort winced. "Hide."
Lex's jaw dropped as Uncle Mort ducked behind a tree. "Hide?" she sputtered in disbelief, falling over her own feet as she tried to conceal herself. "That's the best you can come up with?"
He gave her a look. "You got a rocket launcher in that bag of yours? No? Then hide it is. Grotton, get down!" he shouted at the ghost, who was now floating higher and seemed to be glowing more brightly.
Grotton lowered himself to the ground. "I was merely trying to provide a bit of light for your attempts at" - he let out a quiet snicker - "concealment."
Uncle Mort, suppressing the urge to reach up and smack the everdeathing snot out of their new companion, gritted his teeth. "Next time set off some fireworks, it'll be more subtle. ~ Gina Damico

Why're you like that?" the boy persisted.
"Like what?" Paragon finally asked in annoyance.
"Ya'know. Allus mad. Or crazy fightin' Say'n stuff ta be mean."
"How else do you expect me to be?" Paragon retorted. "Joyous that they've dragged me out here? All excited to go off on a hare-brained rescue mission with them?"
He felt the boy's shrug. "Ya could be."
"I could be?" Paragon snorted. "I'd like to know how."
"S'easy. Ya decide t'be."
"You decide to be happy? I should just forget everything that has been done to me, and be happy? Tra-la-la-la? Like that."
"Ya could." He heard the boy's nails against his scalp. "Lookit me. I coulda hated everyone o' 'em. I decided t'be happy. Decided ta take what I could get. Make a life outer it." A pause. "S'not like I'm gonna get another life. Gotta make this'n work."
"It's not that simple," Paragon snapped.
"Could be," Cliff insisted. "In't no harder than decidin't'be mad allus."
The boy sauntered away slowly. His bare feet scuffed lightly on the deck. "But it's a lot funner," he called back over his shoulder.

p. 406: Clef to Paragon ~ Robin Hobb

What would happen if you set me free?"
"I can't," he said, shaking his head. "Even if I had the key to those chains and let you go, Nero would beat the snot out of me."
"Scratch that idea."
He lifted his chin and disguised an emotion I couldn't read. "You mean it?"
"No one takes a beating for me."
For the first time, Finn was silent.
His jeans rustled as he stood up to leave. When he was out of sight, I heard him mumble to himself, "I wish I could give you a blanket."
I loved that kid immediately. ~ Dannika Dark

Often on the menu, oysters will be listed as "oysters on the half shell." As opposed to what? "In a Kleenex?" Even the way you are supposed to eat an oyster indicates something counterintuitive. "Squeeze some lemon on it, a dab of hot sauce, throw the oyster down the back of your throat, take a shot of vodka, and try to forget you just ate snot from a rock." That is not how you eat something. That is how you overdose on sleeping pills. ~ Jim Gaffigan

The truth was loose: I was the son of a son of a bitch, an ancestral prodigy born to clobber my way through loathsome dungheaps of idiot labor. My genes were cocked and loaded. I was a meteor, a gunslinger, a switchblade boomerang hurled from the pecker dribblets of my forefathers' untainted jalopy seed. I was Al Kaline peggin' home a beebee from the right field corner. I was Picasso applyin' the final masterstroke to his frenzied Guernica. I was Wilson Pickett stompin' up the stairway of the Midnight Hour. I was one blazin' tomahawk of m-fuggin' eel snot. Graceful and indomitable. Methodical and brain-dead. The quintessential shoprat. The Rivethead. ~ Ben Hamper