Twang Quotes

.....I'm certain I asked for a cowboy one December past--
For I wanted the excitement of pioneers to last;
I ached to sing with a fiddle, speak with a drawl and twang;
I surely requested John Wayne to be part of my gang.

Of course I dreamed of a cowboy in those Yuletides of yore--
For I wanted that ace, that corral fighter, that scout roar;
I ached for the authentic frontier hero of the West;
I surely requested the sacred battleground's finest.

I did pray Santa'd give me a cowboy some time ago--
For I wanted a legend in denim wrangler for beau;
I ached to be rounded up safely by my saddled knight;
I surely requested I be prospected, mined, settled right...


-----excerpted from the poem 'A Cowboy For Christmas' in the book FROM GUAM TO CROWN CITY CORONADO (THANKS TO HERMANN, MISSOURI): A JOURNEY IN POESY, by Mariecor Ruediger ~ Mariecor Ruediger

You just pick up a chord, go twang, and you're got music. ~ Sid Vicious

Arrr, shiver me timbers," he said in an exaggerated pirate twang. He winked his uncovered eye and hooked his thumbs in his pants. "This is the nicest your mom's been to a poor old bloke like me-self in days."
Sandra poked a finger in his chest, but grinned. "Don't make me regret it, or you'll walk the plank."
He grinned back and, with that eye patch, turned knee-meltingly rakish in under ten seconds flat. "Aye, I won't be asking you to make me Roger jolly, if that's what has you worrying. ~ Jennifer Shirk

I actually don't care about his movies that much. I just want to twang that thong like a big elastic band. ~ Valerie Bertinelli

But his son hated him. He hated him for coming up to them, for stopping and looking down on them; he hated him for interrupting them; he hated him for the exaltation and sublimity of his gestures; for the magnificence of his head; for his exactingness and egotism (for there he stood, commanding then to attend to him); but most of all he hated the twang and twitter of his father's emotion which, vibrating round them, disturbed the perfect simplicity and good sense of his relations with his mother. By looking fixedly at the page, he hoped to make him move on; by pointing his finger at a word, he hoped to recall his mother's attention, which, he knew angrily, wavered instantly his father stopped. But, no. Nothing would make Mr. Ramsay move on. There he stood, demanding sympathy. ~ Virginia Woolf

To an omniscient being, nothing in all of Creation can be original, fashionable, or even distinct, as every event, thought, action, adventure and discovery is occurring simultaneously in one stretched-out moment. To be omniscient means to have never felt even the slightest twang of curiosity, for there can be no unexpected twists if every outcome to every drama and experiment is already known. Without the capacity for curiosity it is, therefore, impossible for the omniscient being to be interested in anything, let alone be attentive to His own pleasure, as pleasure is inaccessible if all of Creation is, from His great perspective, perfectly flat and of a uniform temperature. ~ John Zande

These Spaniards are all an odd set; the very word Spaniard has a curious, conspirator, Guy-Fawkish twang to it. ~ Herman Melville

Words, those precious gems of queer shape and gay colours, sharp angles and soft contours, shades of meaning laid one over the other down history, so that for those far back one must delve among the lost and lovely litter that strews the centuries. They arrange themselves in the most elegant odd patterns; the sound the strangest sweet euphonious notes; they flute and sing and taber, and disappear, like apparitions, with a curious perfume and a most melodious twang. ~ Rose Macaulay

He had a W.C. Fields twang and a nose like a prize strawberry. ~ Kurt Vonnegut

My family are from Liverpool, so I have some twang there - I have a Midlands accent, and I was raised about an hour north of London, so my voice is a mess. Although, to American ears, it sounds like the crisp language of a queen's butler. ~ John Oliver

A gunshot rang out, blasting a hole in the door. A crossbow quarrel zinged through the hole and stuck quivering into the opposite wall. Seth heard the rocking horse clattering down the staircase, the twang of bowstrings, and the overlapping beat of several other projectiles thudding against the door.
"That was awesome," Seth told Kendra.
"You're psychotic," Kendra replied. ~ Brandon Mull

But it's all a matter of taste, you say. It's true that among the perfumes reckoned good or great, there are some that will move you more than others, and some that will leave you entirely cold or even sickened, because either they won't say what you're longing to hear or they say what you never want to hear again. All the same, when considering perfume as an art, it's possible to appreciate when something is done exceptionally well.

If you've tried several perfumes, you know things can go wrong. Many compositions smell great in the first few minutes, then fade rapidly to a murmur or an unpleasant twang you can never quite wash off. Some seem to attack with what feels like an icepick in the eye. Others smell nice for an hour in the middle but boring at start and finish. Some veer uncomfortably sweet, and some fall to pieces, with various parts hanging there in the air but not really cooperating in any useful way. Some never get around to being much of anything at all. The way you can love a person for one quality despite myriad faults, you can sometimes love a perfume for one particular moment or effect, even if the rest is trash. Yet in the thousands of perfumes that exist, some express their ideas seamlessly and eloquently from top to bottom and give a beautiful view from any angle. A rare subset of them always seem to have something new and interesting to say, even if you encounter them daily. Those are the greats. By these criteria, one can certainly admire a p ~ Tania Sanchez

And they tramped off to the forests with sturdy youths bearing guitars, twang-twang! ~ D.H. Lawrence

Don't 'honey' me in that southern-fried twang. ~ Nora Roberts

The silent horror of Archie's ordeal had been temporarily replaced by the howling, agonising pain of the blood refusing to drain from his penis, the end of which was a deep purple verging on black where Officer Griff had tested how hard it was by using the back of his hand to give it a solid twang. ~ Dylan Perry

Gerald's arm rose and fell the same way to any song he led, no matter the time signature. He had a nasal twang when he spoke and sang, like a younger Grandpa Jones, but his pitch wasn't bad and he seemed to enjoy song-leading. His job was to get everybody started at the same place and everybody stopped when the song was over, but whatever happened in the middle was up to God and the congregation. ~ Chris Fabry

Where are you going?" I asked, as Frank swung his feet off the bed.

"I'd hate the dear old thing to be disappointed in us," he answered. Sitting up on the side of the ancient bed, he bounced gently up and down, creating a piercing rhythmic squeak. The Hoovering in the hall stopped abruptly. After a minute or two of bouncing, he gave a loud, theatrical groan and collapsed backward with a twang of protesting springs. I giggled helplessly into a pillow, so as not to disturb the breathless silence outside.

Frank waggled his eyebrows at me. "You're supposed to moan ecstatically, not giggle," he admonished in a whisper. "She'll think I'm not a good lover."

"You'll have to keep it up for longer than that, if you expect ecstatic moans," I answered. "Two minutes doesn't deserve any more than a giggle."

"Inconsiderate little wench. I came here for a rest, remember?"

"Lazybones. You'll never manage the next branch on your family tree unless you show a bit more industry than that. ~ Diana Gabaldon

I like almost everything, even country twang, disco, blue grass and accordions. ~ Pat Mastelotto

You can speak with a twang and still not say a thang. ~ Mokokoma Mokhonoana

She clicked open the door and glided into the back seat like a summer breeze through an open window on the highway. "Where are you heading?", His Southern twang reminded her of home, but her eyes showed him no familiarity. She stared at him, void of expression, her thoughts racing. "Miss?", he persisted. "Anywhere. Please. Just drive.", she replied tersely, not sure if she even wanted her mind to join her in the back seat. The driver stared into her eyes and somehow understood, he started the engine and on they went. Two strangers, a blur of yellow, in pursuit of nowhere. ~ R.J. Arkhipov

They had to pretend because our high-ranking politician knew not a word of English (well, when he said goodbye he did risk a "Good luck") and the high-ranking British politician knew not a word of Spanish (although she did say "Buen dίa" to me as she gave me an iron handshake). So while the former was mumbling gibberish in Spanish, inaudible to cameras and photographers, all the time keeping a broad smile trained on his guest, as if he were regaling her with interesting banter (what he said was not, however, inaudible to me: I seem to remember that he kept repeating "One, two, three, four, five, what a lovely time we're going to have"). The latter was muttering nonsense in her own language, and smiling even more broadly than him ("Cheese," she kept saying, which is what all English people being photographed are told to say, and then various untranslatable onomatopoeic words such as "Tweedle tweedle, biddle diddle, twit and fiddle, tweedle twang"). ~ Javier Marias

So where were we?"
"I was stepping back," he says, "and you were chastising me for it."
I chuckle. "Ah yes. So, shall I take matters into my own hands, or do you have the proper tool for the job?" I kiss his palm and then glance down at the lump in his towel.
"Well, miss." His voice has a slight southern twang. "A skilled lawman knows how to choose the right tool for the job, and that - " He motions with his head, " - is not the one I plan to use right now. Sorry to disappoint."
"I hate it when you get cocky. ~ D.L. Orton

So I got to witness firsthand how those metal links got broken. The muscles in his upper arms pumped to the size of grapefruits, and the fabric of the T-shirt tightened around them almost to tearing…
Then the metal gave way with a musical twang, and the chain snaked noisily from the grate, falling to the rain-softened earth with a clunk.
"By all means," John said, brushing his hands together in a self-satisfied way, "let's call Mr. Smith."
I ducked my head, hiding my blushing cheeks by pretending to be busy putting my cell phone back in my bag. Encouraging his occasional lapses into less than civilized behavior seemed like a bad idea, so I didn't let on how extremely attractive I'd found what he'd just done.
"You know," I remarked coolly, "I'm already your girlfriend. You don't have to show off your superhuman strength for me."
John looked as if he didn't for one minute believe my disinterest. He opened the grate for me with a gentlemanly bow. "Let's go find your cousin," he said. "I'd like to be home in time for supper. Where's the coffin?"
"It's at my mom's house," I said.
"What?" That deflated his self-satisfaction like a pin through a balloon. He stood stock-still outside the door to his crypt, the word HAYDEN carved in bold capital letters above his head. "What's it doing there?"
"Seth Rector and his girlfriend and their friends asked me if they could build it in my mom's garage," I said. "They said it was the last place anyone wou ~ Meg Cabot

If twang isn't what I do, I don't know what is. ~ George Strait

I've got more than one string to my bow, and I thought I'd give this one a twang. ~ John Le Carre

I think when I began, I played distortion more than the guitar. The results of my strumming. Now I play the twang of the string, which is a lot closer to the source of the sound making. ~ Ian Williams

I could also distinguish the glint of a special puddle (the one Krug had somehow perceived through the layer of his own life), an oblong puddle invariably acquiring the same form after every shower because of the constant spatulate shape of a depression in the ground. Possibly something of the kind may be said to occur in regard to the imprint we leave in the intimate texture of space. Twang. A good night for nothing. ~ Vladimir Nabokov

quietly practiced a street twang. I tried to conjure up all the female badasses I've seen in the movies ~ Mara Jacobs

An angry electronic twang came from the Artoo unit. "Don't call me a mindless philosopher," Threepio snapped back, "you overweight, unstreamlined glob of grease!" Threepio ~ George Lucas

I turned at this new voice, a female voice with a deep country twang. My mouth dropped open at what I saw. Dolly Parton, or a fair impersonation of her, was standing in the doorway. Big blonde hair, tiny body, enormous knockers, wearing a pink negligee set, complete with marabou feathers, even on the high-heeled slippers she wore. I realized she wasn't Dolly because she had to be my age, or maybe a year or two older. ~ Kristen Ashley

Actually, I think you sound more Southern than me." "I blame my Mama for that, too," he replied. "She was an old-time rodeo queen from Amarillo, Texas. She homeschooled me and my brother Dirk until high school, so the Texas twang kinda stuck. Now as for Georgia, I find it a real shame you'd want to get rid of it. I find a woman with a soft Southern drawl incredibly sexy." "Tell you what, when I decide I want to be sexy for you, I'll be sure to turn it on full force."
She was a real firecracker, this Georgia girl. He liked that. He answered her with a grin. "I'll look forward to it." "In your dreams, cowboy," he thought he heard her mutter under her breath.
He cocked his head, "What was that?"
"Coffee?" She smiled wide. "If I recall, you promised me Starbucks. ~ Victoria Vane

Yet too much happy bores. He stretched more, more. Are you not happy in your? Twang. It snapped. ~ James Joyce