The second person to write a story about a young boy and an escaped slave on the Mississippi wasn't a novelist, he was a typist.

On the silverscreen
He melts my foolish heart in every single scene
Although I'm quite aware that here and there are traces of the cad
About the boy

What the fuck? Easy boy, you're not well! Hey, listen Ricky, the bit about the broccoli, I was just kidding. Seriously, want a drink? No! No! NOOOO!

We were poor. If I wasn't a boy, I wouldn't have had nothing to play with.

Yeardley Smith – Lisa Simpson, Cecile Shapiro, Pahasatira Nahasapeemapetilon, Grandma Flanders, Maggie Simpson, Malibu Stacy, Jake Boyman, Angelica Button, Eliza Simpson, Herself, Lisa impersonating Malibu Stacy dolls

So if I could employ
A little magic that will finally destroy
This dream that pains me and enchains me
But I can't because I'm mad...
I'm mad about the boy

They defend rapists. Mamata di says ‘sometimes boys become naughty.’ Mulayam ji says ‘sometimes boys make mistakes’.

It is not the rich man's son that the young struggler for advancement has to fear in the race of life, nor his nephew, nor his cousin. Let him look out for the "dark horse" in the boy who begins by sweeping out the office.

He loved me true did Harry-boy and I loved him true, and if the happiness we gave each other was wicked and wrong in the eyes of the Law and the Church and God Almighty, then the Law and the Church and God Almighty can go dig a hole and fall down it.

Got bitches on my jock out in East Detroit
'Cause they think that I'm a motherfucking Beastie Boy

I have visited Graceland and you could see the man was overwhelmingly honest. He never professed any taste other than his own, that is, country boy made good. He never pretended to be anyone else.

Bless your soul, you've got you're head in the clouds,
You made a fool out of you,
And, boy, she's bringing you down,
She made your heart melt,
But you're cold to the core,
Now rumour has it she ain't got your love anymore.

All over Harlem, Negro boys and girls are growing into stunted maturity, trying desperately to find a place to stand; and the wonder is not that so many are ruined but that so many survive.

I shall never be able to have any more of these boyish, zestful affairs — which are, really, when one thinks about it, a kind of higher, or, anyway, more pretentious masturbation. People are too various to be treated so lightly.

Bob Dylan: I do know what my songs are about.
Playboy: And what's that?
Bob Dylan: Oh, some are about four minutes; some are about five, and some, believe it or not, are about eleven or twelve.