Ponyboy Outsiders Quotes Novels & Stories

He hated people who assumed a second line was theirs and then got so animatedly guilty when they realized the— supposed—mistake they’d made. He lifted his head and pressed his one clean nostril so he could suck more air through the coke nostril, making sure to suck every little sign of the shit up into his brain. And then his brain began to buzz. “That’s sweet shit,” Dink said to Sonny Boy who feigned politeness in a grand gesture of relieving Dink of the tray. The second line was going to be Sonny Boy’s. “Tell me something,” Dinkleberry said. “Have you come across a video of naked boys under twelve being drawn and quartered?”

And there were no bullies in this fish market. The only ones who were wronged were those people in the village. The village was not far away, and there were people between the villages who got married. Everyone knew what had happened before, so they despised the people in the village of Jason. They were the group of people who lived the hardest. Jason came to the school to pick up Black Boy. Black Boy was much stronger, but he was still not fat. There was always an unhealthy color in his eyes, and his face was much whiter.

Jeremy pov: As I sat crying in the sand, the big boy looked down on me with amusement. "Hey, little boy. What do you think of yourself?" He sneered, pushing me down even harder. “Pwease, let me go… Mommy!” I called out for my mom, hoping she would come to my rescue. But as the tears streamed down my face and my nose ran, I felt hopeless and alone. That is until a small, confident voice rang out, cutting through the laughter and jeers of the bullies.

And just saying it out loud slices me open. The machines hum. The steam hisses. The air feels too thick. Quincy’s probably already out. Probably already breathing fresh air—real air, not this recycled metal prison stench. Probably sitting beside his dad in an Escalade, watching the prison disappear behind him. And I’m folding shirts that ain’t even mine. Manny elbows me again, gently this time. “You should’ve gone to see him, man.” I lower my eyes. “I know.” “But you didn’t.”

He sipped from his flask and looked like he had been doing so for the duration of the movie. “Someday big Dicky Boyd’ll be bled dry,” he said, nodding to the camera. “You’ll see. And that sad sack new principal? He’ll be fed to the wolves!” Boris tipped back the flask to finish it off, and then chucked it over the top of the camera. “An’ the good Reverend? He’ll keep turnin’ on lights. Turn on every light in this goddamn town, for all the good it’ll do him. He’ll keep preachin’ about searchin’ for higher truth . . . and then one day he’ll find it. Whether he wants to or not.” The screen cut to black and the tape rattled through.

Gun P'liz keeps on stopping me from drinking, I don't know how many bottles of beer I finished, krist and singto didn't stop me, they watched me drink and cry, I know they wanted to know the truth but I can't tell it, I don't want them to get involved on this " Gun.. let's go outside" P' Jay said We both went outside leaving P'Liz and my friends in the living room " want some" P' Jay said as he offered a cigarette

“If someone looked like that and threw money around like a confetti cannon, I might've stayed too.” “I didn’t stay for that. It was easy,” Niya admitted. “Easier than facing May or Alex or figuring out what the hell I want next. And yeah… the money helps.” Pony softened. “I get that. I do. But promise me something?” Niya turned to her. “Don’t get attached to someone who only looks at you like that when you’re bleeding.” Niya’s throat tightened, and for a moment, neither of them spoke before the buzz from Pony's phone shattered the silence.

“You’re a damn good bartender, Jay.” “And you’re a damn good kid,” he whispers, pocketing it gratefully. “Nick, get over here already!” Jimmy shouts. “I was trying to remember… What was that thing your old man used to say about--?” “Shit, Jimmy, I know you idolized the bastard, but he’s rolling in his grave tonight, hearing the way you fuck up stories you weren’t even there for.”

She succumbed at his feet, mouth opening and closing, the fork’s rusty tines buried in her chest, her eyes bulging in shock. As Richards took out his pint bottle of Old Grand-Dad bourbon and drank from it, the chained boy opened his mouth and spoke for the first and only time in his life. “Go on, get on home now, Ollie,” he said distantly, as though talking in his sleep. “The poets are coming.” Then fell back into his unending abyss of silence.

Atticus smiled, saying, “Indeed, I won’t engage in a battle without preparing for it. Of course, I can’t be shameless either because it would be too greedy. I wouldn’t have a favorable outcome if I made a move on Bourdamun without assurance.” “It looks like you’re the crafty one,” I said straightforwardly, “So, you traded a stagnant pond for a vast ocean? You’re winning with a clear conscience.” I had to admit I felt a little uncomfortable. Atticus was extremely cunning.