Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Flappers. Share them with your friends on social media platforms like Facebook, Twitter, or your personal blogs, and let the world be inspired by their powerful messages. Here are the Top 100 Flappers Quotes And Sayings by 93 Authors including Billy Corgan,William Shakespeare,Jonathan Lethem,Roger Tory Peterson,L.m. Montgomery for you to enjoy and share.
Beware of those angels with their wings glued on.
What hempen homespuns have we swaggering here ...
They were drones, men costumed in independent thought who'd become slaves of party groupspeak. (p. 4)
Vultures are homely, but they clean up all the garbage and that's good. And they're elegant in the sky.
Bohemian - a respectable sort of tramp.
Hippies, hippies ... they want to save the world but all they do is smoke pot and play frisbee!
I feel like I've been fitted for wings.
When we were unloading or going into a restaurant, the raisin got stepped on and smeared like a flapjack. The Hawk was displeased when he saw that. "Goddamn," he growled, "I gave you guys a hundred to get off cigarettes. I'll give you two hundred to get rid of these damn raisins!
As hipster chicks age, and their skin starts to sag, tramp stamps sink below waistbands, like the sun slipping into the sea ...
Either birds or bats flapped up and into the night as the gates rolled back into position. My money was on bats. Little blingy ones, carrying tiny Louis Vuitton clutches.
Pussies [10w]
Pussies are like parachutes ~
they work best when wide open.
Hey, you sass that hoopy Ford Prefect? There's a frood who really knows where his towel is.
(Sass: know, be aware of, meet, have sex with; hoopy: really together guy; frood: really amazingly together guy.)
What makes you a chaffinch?
Wings - -vast shimmering wings, their reach so great they swept the walls on either side of the alley, each feather like the wind-tugged lick of a candle flame.
fiddlesticks" and
We had the skirts with the slits up the side, sort of tough, sort of Spanish Harlem cool, but sweet too.
My knees shook as they descended upon me like vultures, squeezing the life out of my fragile bones. Never had I witnessed such a loud group of guys who got wound up so high over nothing. All they did was hoot over Ellis's new apartment and belch the school's theme song. Joy.
They [Erasers] were bad fliers," Angel chimed in, "And in their minds, they weren't all kill the mutants, like they usually are. They were like, remember to flap!
Please don't take my wings...
The gay motes that people the sunbeams.
Let us fly, Madam Harpy Queen. Show me how you dance on the wind.
They never reminisced about the time they had to drive halfway back to Indianapolis because I'd left Dexter Poindexter, my terry-cloth penguin (threadbare, ravaged by love - as who amongst us is not)
Zola smills, smuggles, what is that word? What is it, that word for the happy teeth??
brought home half a dozen flappers, killed with the rifle if I had been out after large game, or with the revolver if I had merely been among the cattle, - each duck, in the latter case, representing the expenditure of a vast number of cartridges.
Pigeons: They've got wings, but they walk a lot ...
These were the new girls of New York- complete with rapid heartbeats from too much nicotine and coffee. They were nervous and fluttery but completely alluring- the new face of urban femininity.
Shitty nappy whizzing through the air, you don't see that in the brochures.
Balloonwallas tried to seduce the children with their
you...are...a...frige...with...wings...we...are...freaking...ballet...dancers!
Hearing old macho men, our uncles, calling themselves "Bra". Like women underwear.
screaming as they squeal down a Slip'n Slide
And if you say a word about this over the radio, the next wings you see will belong to the flies buzzing over your rotting corpse.
Those dull, unmusterious city unemployables, dressed in their grey, secondhand suits.
Rogues in rags are kept in countenance by rogues in ruffles.
called The Flying Haldemans: Pity the Poor Private Pilot.
wankers snorting
Butterflys are free
Stripes on their backs. The twentieth century
Would you mind getting off that fly paper and giving the flies a chance?"
"Ahhh, you can't trick me! Flies don't read papers!
ONE DAY, COCK OF THE WALK - NEXT DAY, A FEATHER DUSTER
Birds fly with their wings, people with their happiness!
Birds fly with their wings, men with their happiness!
Tear-stained flops are necessary. They're the gift you give yourself when you're willing to fly.
The bad jazz that a cat blows wails long after he's cut out.
The Dauthless have the wierdest slang. Pansycake, Nose ... is there a term for The Candor?"
"Of course."Uriah grins."Jerks
One of the things nobody tells you about the glamorous job of chaperoning teenage dances is that the shaps are the ones who have to make sure everything's picked up and locked away once the music ends.
The queers of the sixties, like those since, have connived with their repression under a veneer of respectability. Good mannered city queens in suits and pinstripes, so busy establishing themselves, were useless at changing anything.
Everyone has their wings, it just so happens that mine are black.
I once wore a peekaboo blouse. People would peek and then they'd boo.
Men with wings. Angels of the Apocalypse. Supernatural beings who've pulverized the modern world and killed millions, maybe even billions, of people. And here's one of the horrors, right in front of me.
Hopes were wallflowers. Hopes hugged the perimeter of a dance floor in your brain, tugging at their party lace, all perfume and hems and doomed expectation. They fanned their dance cards, these guests that pressed against the walls of your heart.
like a disaffected swan -
You might think you're a grown man, but I have absolutely no problem getting my spatula out and serving you up a helping of bare butt flap jacks, you hear me?
And is it right, butterfly, they like you better framed and dried?
hipsters are basically yuppies with tighter pants and bigger glasses.
Queers doing cowboy dancing. Who would've thunk it? Kids who grew up in Galveston and Tucson and Modesto, performing the folk dances of their homeland finally, finally with the partner of their choice.
Propping up a seat at the bar we devour chicken wings like life does dreams
Snooty high heels.
What does it matter if you are flashing them your underwear, as long as you kick the hell out of them?"
"What have I heard about flashing underwear? Whatever it is, I'm in.
Shut the damned door. you're lettin' the flies out.
Birds coming home to roost.
If feathers don't ruffle, nothing flies.
Our confused society badly needs a community of contrast, a counterculture of ordinary pilgrims who insist living a different way. Unlike popular culture, we will lavish attention on the least "deserving" in direct opposition to our celebrity culture's emphasis on success, wealth, and beauty.
You are a fridge with wings. We're freaking ballet dancers.
Women's sexy underwear is a minor but significant growth industry of late-twentieth-century Britain in the twilight of capitalism.
Left wing, right wing, chicken wing.
Eddies of dry wind whipped tatters of cloth and reed paper about in dancing circles.
Oh No! My wings are effed up!
Coming, going, the waterbirds don't leave a trace, don't follow a path.
Fo lo, the gentil kind of the lioun! For when a flye offendeth him or byteth, He with his tayl awey the flye smyteth Al esily, for, of his genterye, Him deyneth net to wreke him on a flye, As cloth a curre or elles another beste.
College girls on the road! One-night stands! Lee felt like an Austro-Hungarian emperor attended on his deathbed by flappers. He felt them stealing his life - literally going back in time and taking, through their incoherent lifestyles, the little he had struggled so hard to attain.
Dancin' in the welfare lines.
Free spirited free riders they're on their way but don't know where they're going ...
A fellow who cannot throw a flapjack is sadly lacking in the skill one expects to find in a real woodcrafter.
Take joy in who you are, we know our wings are flawed.
soaring with the eagles leaving the turkeys behind
I don't get all this Speedo stuff actually, I mean, whatever happened to the feather boa?
crowd of frenzied females,
With birds flying around, man's desire for having wings rises to infinite!
The chickadee and nuthatch are more inspiring society than statesmen and philosophers, and we shall return to these last as to more vulgar companions.
Summer here comes on like a zaftig hippie chick, jazzed on chlorophyll and flinging fistfuls of butterflies to the sun.
Our cheeky sidekick. We're like a motorcycle and sidecar.
Stained raincoats, I reckon." "And shitpaper stuck to their shoes.
Amid thy desert-walks the lapwing flies, And tires their echoes with unvaried cries.
Up with skirts, down with pants!'
Ease up, nasty little frigid pixies
What are they trying to do?" Davison asked. "I never heard of anything like this."
I took my eyes off Ginger's legs. "Gangsters," I said.
"But they've gone out of style," Davison said. "They don't have gangsters any more."
"Suppose you go out and tell them that," I said.
They call me faggot, and freak, and Tinker Bell.. but I thought that bitch had wings, and I never once felt like I could fly.
And jazz is like a bird who migrates or emigrates or immigrates or transmigrates, roadblock jumper, smuggler, something that runs and mixes in
Cause for a moment a band of theives in ripped up jeans got to rule the world!
uppity children,
Stewardesses were a joke to many of us coming of age in the liberated Sixties. They were no joke in the women's movement that liberated us, however.
We Three Kings of Leicester Square,
Selling ladies' underwear,
So fantastic, no elastic,
Only tuppence a pair.
I'll never understand those greasy little deep-fried wings most bars serve.
I love flowy hippie dresses.
I think they've been baby bummers.
Why does a silly bird go on saying "chiff-chaff" all day long? Is it happiness or hiccups?
Come near me and I'll rip your wings off and beat you with them.
Feathers needed, swan preferred.
A twinge of wonderment that might charm the most cynical of New York dance fans ... They raise the bar, and then they jump over it.