A Quote by Martin Luther
Two devils rose from the water, and flew off through the air, crying, 'Oh, oh, oh!' and turning one over another, in sportive mockery.
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People say it's a bit repetitive to say, 'Oh oh oh oh oh oh,' but you can't translate the melody into words.
I flew to New York to do a commercial back in the day when people could meet you at the gate, and the little agent when I came off the plane said, 'Oh, Miss Carr, we are so happy to have you here.' I went, 'Oh, for goodness sakes.'
You push a button and it goes all over the world and on Sunday people are saying, 'Oh, I binge watched all 10 of them. Where's more?' and you go oh, the world has changed. It's not my dad walking to the television set and turning a knob to Ed Sullivan.
On the good ship Lollipop Its a sweet trip To the candy shop Where bon-bon's play, On the sunny beach Of peppermint bay Lemonade stands, Everywhere Crackerjack bands, Fill the air, And there you are, Happy landings on a chocolate bar. See the sugar bowl Do a tootsie roll In a big bad devils food cake, If you eat too much, Oh, oh, You'll awake, With a tummy ache.
All I want is a room somewhere, far away from the cold night air. With one enormous chair; Oh wouldn't it be loverly? Lots of choc'late for me to eat; Lots of coal makin' lots of heat. Warm face, warm 'ands, warm feet, Oh wouldn't it be loverly? Oh, so loverly sittin' abso-bloomin'-lutely still! I would never budge 'til spring crept over my window sill. Someone's head restin' on my knee; Warm and tender as he can be, who takes good care of me; Oh wouldn't it be loverly? Loverly, loverly, loverly, loverly.
Well, basically there are two sorts of opera," said Nanny, who also had the true witch's ability to be confidently expert on the basis of no experience whatsoever. "There's your heavy opera, where basically people sing foreign and it goes like "Oh oh oh, I am dyin', oh I am dyin', oh oh oh, that's what I'm doin'", and there's your light opera, where they sing in foreign and it basically goes "Beer! Beer! Beer! Beer! I like to drink lots of beer!", although sometimes they drink champagne instead. That's basically all of opera, reely.
This squirrel is inadequately afraid of humans! Squirrel, I am a threat to you! We are enemies! Please get off my bench! Oh, god! Oh, god! Don't touch me—oh, god!
How fair doth Nature
Appear again!
How bright the sunbeams!
How smiles the plain!
The flow'rs are bursting
From ev'ry bough,
And thousand voices
Each bush yields now.
And joy and gladness
Fill ev'ry breast!
Oh earth!-oh sunlight!
Oh rapture blest!
Oh love! oh loved one!
All the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand! Oh, oh, oh!
I never worry 'cause people always try to categorize me. "Oh, that's reggaeton." "Oh, he's a Latin rapper." "Oh, he's crunk." "Oh, he's a Southern rapper," or, "He's a club rapper." As long as they're listening to the music and they're talkin' about it, one way or the other, that means I'm doing something right.
I've had a few encounters: At a restaurant, this woman that was like, 'Oh my God, oh my God, can we take a picture with you? My son said not to, but I just had to. You my favorite 'Devils Girl!'
Boom, boom, boom, Even brighter than the moon, moon, moon, It's always been inside of you, you, you And now it's time to let it through, ooh, ooh. Cause, baby, you're a firework Come on, show 'em what you're worth Make 'em go, "Oh! Oh! Oh!" As you shoot across the sky-y-y. Baby, you're a firework Come on, let your colors burst Make 'em go, "Oh! Oh! Oh!" You're gonna leave 'em fallin' down-own-own.
Oh, I'm being eaten By a boa constrictor, A boa constrictor, A boa constrictor, I'm being eaten by a boa constrictor, And I don't like it--one bit. Well, what do you know? It's nibblin' my toe. Oh, gee, It's up to my knee. Oh my, It's up to my thigh. Oh, fiddle, It's up to my middle. Oh, heck, It's up to my neck. Oh, dread, It's upmmmmmmmmmmffffffffff . . .
Oh oh it's magic, when I'm with you, oh oh it's magic, you know it's true, got a hold on you.
But there's no joy at all, people say "Oh well he's drunk and happy let him sleep it off"--The poor drunkard is *crying*--He's crying for his mother and father and great brother and great friend, he's crying for help. (p.111)
In journalism, there are only two stories - "Oh, the wonder of it," and "Oh, the shame of it."
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