Popcorn Quotes

“If you put butter and salt on it, it tastes like salty butter.”
― Terry Pratchett, Moving Pictures

“Oh, no!" Hazel wailed. "Popcorn! Our fatal weakness!”
― Rick Riordan, The Blood of Olympus

“I want to see this video," I say.
"Seriously?" asks Tattoo. "Want popcorn too?”
― Susan Ee, World After

“Don't you go to the movies?"
"Mostly just to eat popcorn in the dark.”
― Charles Bukowski, Betting on the Muse: Poems & Stories

“It means the third rail has seven hundred volts of direct current running through it. Touch it and you're human popcorn”
― James Patterson

“Have you ever pondered the miracle of popcorn? It starts out as a tiny, little, compact kernel with magic trapped inside that when agitated, bursts to create something marvelously desirable. It’s sort of like those tiny, little thoughts trapped inside an author’s head that―in an excited explosion of words―suddenly become a captivating fairy tale!”
― Richelle E. Goodrich

“But you can't invent things like time,' Violet said. 'You can invent things like automatic popcorn poppers. You can invent things like steam-powered window waster. But you can't invent more time.”
― Lemony Snicket, The Wide Window

“Life is a great big beautiful three-ring circus. There are those on the floor making their lives among the heads of lions and hoops of fire, and those in the stands, complacent and wowed, their mouths stuffed with popcorn.

I know less now than ever about life, but I do know its size. Life is enormous. Much grander than what we’ve taken for ourselves, so far.

When the show is over and the tent is packed, the elephants, lions and dancing poodles are caged and mounted on trucks to caravan to the next town. The clown’s makeup has worn, and his bright, red smile has been washed down a sink. All that is left is another performance, another tent and set of lights. We rest in the knowledge: the show must go on.

Somewhere, behind our stage curtain, a still, small voice asks why we haven’t yet taken up juggling. My seminars were like this. Only, instead of flipping shiny, black bowling balls or roaring chainsaws through the air, I juggled concepts.

The world is intrinsically tied together. All things march through time at different intervals but move ahead in one fashion or another.

Though we may never understand it, we are all part of something much larger than ourselves—something anchoring us to the spot we have mentally chosen. We sniff out the rules, through spiritual quests and the sciences. And with every new discovery, we grow more confused.

Our inability to connect what seems illogical to unite and to defy logic in our understanding keeps us from enlightenment. The artists and insane tiptoe around such insights, but lack the compassion to hand-feed these concepts to a blind world.

The interconnectedness of all things is not simply a pet phrase. It is a big “T” truth that the wise spend their lives attempting to grasp.”
― Christopher Hawke, Unnatural Truth

“So basically you’re threatening to turn me into something you can sprinkle on popcorn if I don’t do what you say?”
(Jace, to Simon)”
― Cassandra Clare, City of Fallen Angels

“Sometimes I think that all anyone needs in life is lots of popcorn and a few Lovelies”
― Sam Savage

“Come in early, so there'll be time to pop corn,' Mrs. Ray said. If she mentioned popping corn, they always came in early. So she usually mentioned it.”
― Maud Hart Lovelace, Betsy and Tacy Go Downtown

“Popcorn! Our fatal weakness!”
― Hazel Levesque

“Some people are like popcorn: they will only succeed when under heat or pressure.”
― Charbel Tadros

“He was taking another hit from his short-and-squat of Goose when his eyes skipped to the arched doorway of the room.
Jane hesitated as she glanced inside, her white coat opening as she leaned to the side, as if she were looking for him.
When their eyes met, she smiled a little. And then a lot.
His first impulse was to hide his own grin behind his Goose.
But then he stopped himself.
New world order. Come on, smile, motherfucker, he thought.
Jane gave a short wave and played it cool, which was what they usually did when they were together in public. Turning away, she headed over to the bar to make herself something.
“Hold up, cop,” V murmured, putting his drink down and bracing his cue against the table. Feeling like he was fifteen, he put his hand-rolled between his teeth and tucked his wife-beater tightly into the waistband of his leathers. A quick smooth of the hair and he was . . . well, as ready as he could be.
He approached Jane from behind just as she struck up a convo with Mary—and when his shellan pivoted around to greet him, she seemed a little surprised that he’d come up to her.
“Hi, V . . . How are—”
Vishous stepped in close, putting them body to body, and then he wrapped his arms around her waist. Holding her with possession, he slowly bent her backward until she gripped his shoulders and her hair fell from her face. As she gasped, he said exactly what he thought: “I missed you.”
And on that note, he put his mouth on hers and kissed the ever-living hell out of her, sweeping one hand down to her hip as he slipped his tongue in her mouth, and kept going and going and going . . .
He was vaguely aware that the room had fallen stone silent and that everything with a heartbeat was staring at him and his mate.
But whatever.
This was what he wanted to do, and he was going to do it in front of everyone—and the king’s dog, as it turned out. Because Wrath and Beth came in from the foyer.
As Vishous slowly righted his shellan, the catcalls and whistling started up, and someone threw a handful of popcorn like it was confetti.
“Now that’s what I’m talkin’ ’bout,” Hollywood said. And threw more popcorn.
Vishous cleared his throat. “I have an announcement to make.”
Right. Okay, there were a lot of eyes on the pair of them. But he was so going to suck up his inclination to bow out.
Tucking his flustered and blushing Jane into his side, he said loud and clear: “We’re getting mated. Properly. And I expect you all to be there and . . . Yeah, that’s it.”
Dead. Quiet.
Then Wrath released the handle on George’s harness and started to clap. Loud and slow. “About. Fucking. Time.”
― J.R. Ward, Lover Unleashed

“Fresh popcorn is near impossible to resist, second only to fresh doughnuts.”
― Shannon Wiersbitzky, What Flowers Remember

“Man, Rhage is playin’ with fire,” Butch said as he started to rack up the balls.
“I give Fritz thirty seconds before he’s—Here he comes.”
“I’m going to pretend I’m not here.”
V took a swig of his Goose. “Me too.”
While they got busy grabbing balls, Fritz came steaming across the foyer like a missile seeking a heat source.
“Watch your ass, Hollywood, true?” V muttered as Rhage came over with a basket of popped-and-fluffy.
“It’s good for him. He needs the exercise—Fritz! How are you, buddy?”

-Butch, Vishous, & Rhage”
― J.R. Ward, Lover Unleashed

“This isn't an army marching on the Mists. This isn't a case you have to solve. It's just a bunch of nobles coming to puff their chests out at each other an try to look important. Do what I do. Bring popcorn.”
― Seanan McGuire, Once Broken Faith

“Making popcorn is a reminder of the very valuable fact that very similar people who are given the very same opportunity in the very same environment at the very same time will not succeed or mature at the very same time, if they will manage to succeed or mature.”
― Mokokoma Mokhonoana

“Covalent Bonds”
― Brad McQuade

“I barely even know how I didn't feel. I didn't feel like reading a newspaper, or having a coffee, or going for a jog, or watching television. Nor did I feel like crying behind the boiler in the basement. Or like trying out for something. I did't even feel like I had lost someone I deeply loved; this was different from that. I didn't feel like going to another movie and asking for extra butter on my popcorn. I didn't feel like talking to someone who would understand.”
― Rivka Galchen, American Innovations

“Well, I was sure this handsome buck would follow us both out, but when I got back to the kitchen, there he still was picking at some leftover Cajun popcorn in a bowl on the counter.
"Oh, don't eat that!" I almost screamed. "It's awful cold. And, besides, you need to dip it in garlic mayonnaise for it to be really good."
"I think it's pretty good as is," he said, and suddenly I began to wonder if maybe I looked too heavy in the loose harlequin pants and metallic gold shirt I was wearing. "What's it called?"
"Cajun popcorn."
"But it's fried shrimp, isn't it?"
"Yeah, though over in Louisiana they usually use crawfish."
"Why's it called popcorn?"
"I have no earthly idea. Maybe 'cause people it fast as popcorn."
"What all's in it?"
I was now rinsing and drying some platters with a dishcloth and in a hurry to put out some more nutty fingers. "You do ask a lot of questions, Mr. Webster," I kidded him. "Sure you're not some hotshot chef out looking to steal recipes?"
He laughed and said, "Jerry. Call me Jerry. And no, I'm no recipe thief. I simply love good food and am always looking for new ideas."
"Okay, Jerry, there's everything in that battered popcorn except the kitchen stove."
"Like what?" he kept on.
"Like garlic and onion and a few hundred herbs and spices- and lots of love."
He smiled and asked, "Deep fried?"
"Yep, in peanut oil, but not too long- no more than about two minutes. Gotta be crisp on the outside but not overcooked.”
― James Villas, Hungry for Happiness

“I wonder the first person to ever pop the popcorn, thought they were under attack.”
― Nitya Prakash

“You are the colonel of your life. Full stop. But your feeling of inadequacy isn’t a high enough frequency to make the thought pop.”
― Curtis Tyrone Jones

“It wasn’t the pretty kind of cough either. It was the holy-crap-I’m-going-to-die-by-popcorn kind of cough.”
― Tiana Smith, Match Me If You Can