Hana's Famous Quotes & Sayings
35 Hana's Famous Sayings, Quotes and Quotation.
The Englishman left months ago, Hana, he's with the Bedouin or in some English garden with its phlox and shit.— Michael Ondaatje
about. I looked around helplessly— Hana Schank
MINION LANGUAGE— Idontknow
English minions
hello! bello
goodbye! poopaye
thankyou! tank yu
I'm hungry me want banana
ugly bananonina
I swear... underwear
fire! bee do bee do bee do
we love you tulaliloo ti amo
I hate you tatata bala tu
for you para tu
toy baboi
chair chasy
what poka
apple bable
ice cream gelato
butt butt
one hana
two dul
three sae
It's for the best. But no matter how many times I repeat it, the strange, hollow feeling in my stomach doesn't go away. And ridiculous as it is, I can't shake the persistent, needling feeling that I've forgotten something, or missed something, or lost something forever.— Lauren Oliver
I'd never undetstood how Hana Could lie so often and easily. But just like anyhting else, lying becomes easier the more you do it.— Lauren Oliver
Hana, everything that God made valuable in the world is covered and hard to get to. Where do you find diamonds? Deep down in the ground, covered and protected. Where do you find pearls? Deep down at the bottom of the ocean, covered up and protected in a beautiful shell. Where do you find gold? Way down in the mine, covered over with layers and layers of rock. You've got to work hard to get to them.— Muhammad Ali
I hate studying and I hate partying. But I'm okay with motocross. And muscles.— Cheyanne Young
Motocross and Muscles. Now that should be a Lifetime movie.
So after Another You I ran off to my very own piece of paradise, my home in Hana.— Richard Pryor
The most celebrated American author of the twentieth century, Bellow objected during the first part of his career to being designated a "Jewish writer, " but it was he who demonstrated how a Jewish voice could speak for an integrated America. With Bellow, Jewishness moved in from the immigrant margins to become a new form of American regionalism. Yet he did not have to write about Jews in order to write as a Jew. Bellow's curious mingling of laughter and trembling is particularly manifest in his novel Henderson the Rain King, that follows an archetypal Protestant American into mythic Africa. Bellow not only influenced and paved the way for other American Jewish writers like Philip Roth and Cynthia Ozick, but naturalized the immigrant voice: the American novel came to seem freshly authentic when it spoke in the voice of one of its discernible minorities.— Hana Wirth-Nesher
It seems like as we stand there I'm watching my whole life with Hana, our entire friendship, fall away: sleepover parties with forbidden midnight bowls of popcorn; all the times we rehearsed for Evaluation Day, when Hana would steal a pair of her father's old glasses, and bang on her desk with a ruler whenever I got an answer wrong, and we always started choking with laughter halfway through; the time she put a fist, hard, in Jillian Dawson's face because Jillian said my blood was diseased; eating ice cream on the pier and dreaming of being paired and living in identical houses, side by side. All of it is being sucked into nothing, like sand getting swept up by a current.— Lauren Oliver
..."Unforgiveness," said Pastor Allen, "is the cup of poison that we pour for another, and then drink ourselves."— K.T. Bowes
'You are becoming a very bitter and twisted person, Hana Du Rose,' she chided herself as they sang the final hymn.
From the New Du Rose Matriarch
And once at Hana's house, when we stole some blackberry liqueur from her parents' liquor cabinet and drank until the ceiling started spinning overhead. Hana was laughing and giggling, but I didn't like it, didn't like the sweet sick taste in my mouth or the way my thoughts seemed to break apart like a mist in the sun.— Lauren Oliver
I feel as though I'm in a dream, where strange things are happening but they don't feel strange. Everything is cloudy - everything is wrapped in a fog - and I'm filled from head to toe with the single, burning desire to get closer to the music, to hear the music better, for the music to go on and on and on.— Lauren Oliver
Won't go wrong." Hana stands up and stares at me for a moment. "I promise," she says slowly, giving each word weight, "that everything will go perfectly.— Lauren Oliver
And then she left, and it broke my heart so completely I could hardly breathe.— Lauren Oliver
No guy in his right mind would ever choose me when there are people like Hana in the world: It would be like settling for a stale cookie when what you really want is a big bowl of ice cream, whipped cream and cherries and chocolate sprinkles included.— Lauren Oliver
As soon as she sees me she swings forward and hits a key on her keyboard. The music cuts off instantly. Strangely, the silence that follows seems just as loud.— Lauren Oliver
Hana: What on Earth is a 'barbeque'? Hel: A primitive tribal ritual featuring paper plates, elbows, flying insects, encrusted meat, hush puppies, and beer. Hana: I daren't ask what a 'hush puppy' is. Hel: Don't.— Trevanian
I'm Hana," Hana says. "And this is Lena." She jabs me with an elbow. I— Lauren Oliver
know I must look like a fish, standing there with my mouth gaping open, but I'm
too outraged to speak. He's lying. I know he's the one I saw yesterday, would bet
my life on it.
"Alex. Nice to meet you." Alex keeps his eyes on me as he and Hana shake
hands. Then he extends a hand to me. "Lena," he says thoughtfully. "I've never
heard that name before.
I'm not the Hana everyone told me I would be after my cure.— Lauren Oliver
I let her stay a few feet ahead of me and try to memorize her exactly as she is: running, laughing, tan and happy and beautiful and mine; blond hair flashing in the last rays of sun like a torch, like a beacon of good things to come, and better days ahead for us both.— Lauren Oliver
The trouble with words is that you can really talk yourself into a corner. You can't fuck yourself into a corner.— Michael Ondaatje
"That's a man talking," muttered Hana.
And even though I'm standing in the middle of the biggest crowd I've ever seen in my life, I suddenly feel very alone.— Lauren Oliver
My first kiss. A new kind of kiss, like the new kind of music still playing, softly, in the distance - wild and arrhythmic, desperate. Passionate.— Lauren Oliver
Hana?" Lena says softly. "Are you okay?"— Lauren Oliver
That single stupid question breaks me. All the metal fingers relax me at once, and the tears they've been holding back come surging up at once. Suddenly I am sobbing and telling her everything: about the raid, and the dogs, and the sounds of skulls cracking underneath regulator's nightsticks. Thinking about it again makes me feel like I might puke. At a certain point, Lena puts her arms around me and starts murmuring things into my hair. I don't even know what she's saying, and I don't care. JUst having her here - solid, real, on my side - makes me feel better than I have in weeks. Slowly I manage to stop crying, swallowing back the hiccups and sobs that are still running through me. I try to tell her that I've missed her, and that I've been stupid and wrong, but my voice is muffled and thick
All I can think is: I need air. The rest of my thoughts are a blur of radio static and fluorescent lights and lab coats and steel tables and surgical knives— Lauren Oliver
He's tall with shaggy blond hair and muscular arms. He's holding a twenty-dollar bill. He's muscular. And he's holding a twenty— Cheyanne Young
wait, I already said that.
The memories seem like snapshots from someone else's life.— Lauren Oliver
After the raid, the neighborhood was officially repossessed by the city of Portland, and a number of the houses were razed. The plan was to set up new low-income condos for some of the municipal workers, but construction stalled after the terrorist incidents, and as I cross over into the Highlands, all I see is rubble: holes in the ground, and trees felled and left with their roots exposed to the sky, dirty, churned earth, and rusting metal signs declaring it a hard-hat area.— Lauren Oliver
It's so quiet that even the sound of my wheels as they turn seems overloud. A thought comes to me suddenly, unbidden - Quiet through the grave go I; or else beneath the graves I lie - the old rhyme we used to whisper as kids when we passed a graveyard.
A graveyard: That's exactly what the Highlands is like now.
Lena Ella Haloway Tiddle." I pronounce her full name, very slowly, partly because I need to reassure myself of her existence - Lena, my friend, the worried one, the one who always pleaded for safety first, who now makes secret appointments to meet with boys. "You have some explaining to do."— Lauren Oliver
"Hana, you remember Alex," Lena says weakly, as though that - the fact of my remembering him - explains anything.
"Oh, I remember Alex," I say. "What I don't remember is why Alex is here. "
Lena makes a few unconvincing noises of excuse. Her eyes fly to his. A message passes between them. I can feel it, encoded and indecipherable, like a zip of electricity, as though I've just passed too close to one of the border fences. My stomach turns. Lena and I used to be able to speak like that.
Hana yori dango. Dumplings over flowers. It basically means that someone should value needs over wants, substance over appearance. As in, make sure you have food and shelter before you burn money on something extravagant. And, you know, choose genuine friends who will be there for you over pretty, shallow ones. Don't get carried away by beauty if it leaves you empty.— Amanda Sun
Wherever Hana is now, in the future, she is aware of the line of movement Kip's body followed out of her life. Her mind repeats it. The path he slammed through among them. When he turned into a stone of silence in their midst. She recalls everything of that August day - what the sky was like, the objects on the table in front of her going dark under the thunder.— Michael Ondaatje
Every day, streets papered with more and more for .— Lauren Oliver
Reward, reward, reward.
Reward for information.
If you see something, say something.
A paper town, a paper world: paper rustling in the airm whispering to me, hissing out a message of posion and jealousy.
If you know something, do something.
I'm sorry, Lena.
It's made of pure sunlight, the sun, it's light, the only thing that awakens people during the day from their deep night's slumber.— Hana P.B.
Hana's voice is completely toneless. I can't tell if she's being sarcastic. But she is lucky, whether she knows it or not.— Lauren Oliver
And there it is: Even though we're standing in the same patch of sun-drenched pavement, we might as well be a hundred thousand miles apart.
You came from different starts and you'll come to different ends : That's an old saying, something Carol used to repeat a lot. I never really understood how true it was until now.
