A Quote by Susan Campbell Bartoletti
For 'The Journal of Finn Reardon,' I traveled to New York City and walked the streets where Finn and his friends would have lived, worked, and played. I visited the Tenement Museum on Orchard Street and toured an actual flat in which families like Finn's might have lived.
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Are you reading?" I say. It's not that I don't think Finn can read or anything, but it's just - well, not what I expected to see. I figured Finn spent his time doing whatever it is guys who aren't Josh do when they aren't in school. Burping, or something. "Try not to look so surprised," Finn says. "I read. I can count to ten. Sometimes I can even spell my own name.
Finn, do you see the lias—whatever, the orange-haired girl?” Razo Gestured ahead. “Do you think she’s pretty?” Finn glanced Dasha’s way, then returned his attention ot his horse. “She’s all right.” “Really? Just all right?” Finn shrugged. Razo rolled his eyes. “What am I saying? He doesn’t think any girl is pretty but Enna.” “Are there any girls but Enna?” Finn called back. “There’d better be.
I'm sorry Finn. I'm a wooden-headed dummy.' Don't be so hard on yourself,' said Finn. 'You're just a straw-brained scarecrow.
Finn crossed his arms and glared at Volusian. It was kind of a bold move, considering Finn looked like a cartoon character and Volusian looked like he ate the souls of small children. For all I knew, he probably did.
I lived somewhat of a nomadic life, even when I lived in Ohio. We spent time in rural areas, in suburban areas, never really city areas. We rode four-wheelers. We had pigs and ferrets. And creeks. We had a creek in my backyard. It was like 'Huckleberry Finn.'
It's my given, full name. Finn's not short for anything; it's just Finn Wolfhard. And then Wolfhard means, I think, heart of the wolf in German.
Quite a crowd tonight, Gin. Usually, it's just you and Finn." I shrugged. "What can I say? I seem to attract minions wherever I go these days. Kind of like the Pied Piper." Behind me, Finn huffed out his displeasure. "Minion? I am most certainly not a mere minion. Head minion, perhaps. At the very least.
Honestly, I'm one of the ones who is least like my character, just because I like to make people laugh and have a good time-and be kind of fun and silly. Jake is very composed, has his guard up, and is a bit damaged. But Cory Monteith is pretty much like Finn. I think they both kind of have that goofy sense of humor. Cory is so hilarious in his everyday life, just like Finn is.
The talk of the town has been Finn Balor. Finn Balor has been killing it down there in NXT, and the fans love him. He looks like one of those guys who could be ready to be up here in WWE, but who knows what's going to happen?
Any chance of getting something sweet to go with my coffee?” [Finn] asked in a hopeful voice. I arched an eyebrow at him. “You mean all those pieces of strawberry pie that you ate for lunch weren't enough?” “I’m a growing boy,” Finn said in a sincere tone. “I need my vitamins.” Bria snorted. “The only thing that’s growing on you, Lane, is your ego.” Finn sidled up to my sister and gave her a dazzling smile. “Well, other things of mine also tend to swell up in your presence, detective.
Finn: I look at you because I can't look away Wendy. Wendy: That's kinda creepy. Finn: I will work on being less creepy then.
How did you even know I wasn't in my room?" "I checked on you." Finn gave me a look like I was an idiot. "I check on you every morning." "You check on me when I'm sleeping?" I gaped at him. "Every morning?" He nodded. "I didn't know that." "Why would you know that? You're sleeping," Finn pointed out.
I remember my own life as a small boy, son of Jewish immigrants, in a janitor's flat on Orchard and Stanton streets on the Lower East Side of New York City. My father made pants and doubled as janitor of a tenement - before he made janitoring at $30 a month, plus rooms, a career.
I liked Huckleberry Finn and Tom Sawyer, and that is the kind of character that I would like to have played. That would have been more in tune with who I really was.
I need to call Matt and let him know I'm okay," I said. Finn held the passenger door open while I got inside. As soon as he got in the driver's seat, I turned to him. "Well? Can I call him?" "You really want to?" Finn asked as he started the car. "Yes, of course I do! Why is that so suprising?
I lived an idyllic 'Huckleberry Finn' life in a tiny town. Climbing trees. Tagging after brothers. Happy. Barefoot on my pony. It was 'To Kill a Mockingbird'-esque.
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