Really, I scolded myself, you should have known that you'd end up in a stone dungeon with no facilities. That's how these things always end up, isn't it?
Annabeth sat up and glared at her ankle. "You HAD to break," she scolded it. The ankle did not reply.
In discovering books, you became free to explore the full range of human motives, desires, secrets, and lies. All my life, people have scolded me for having an excess of feeling, saying that I was too sensitive - as if one could be in danger from feeling too much instead of too little. But my outsize emotions were well represented in books. [] there simmered all the feelings no one ever admits to.
Edward can do everything, right?" I explained. Jasper snickered and Esme gave Edward a reproving look. "I hope you haven't been showing off-it's rude," she scolded. "Just a bit," he laughed freely. "He's been too modest actually," I corrected. "Well, play for her," Esme encouraged. "You just said showing off was rude," he objected. "There are exceptions to every rule," she replied.
Gabbe jumped up and seized the cocanut first, giving its contents a sniff. "Arriane, she has just been through a trama," she scolded. Arriane tossed her shoulders back. "Precisely why she needs something with a kick," she argued, holding the tray possessively while she and Gabbe engaged in a stare-down. "Fine," Arriane said, looking away from Gabbe.
I didn't see [Luigi St. Omer] as a teacher. I saw him as a comrade I respected and I could go to see anytime something was bothering me. He was indeed my "big brother". He praised me when I did something exceptional and scolded me when I did things which were out of the way.
No one was ever scolded out of their sins.
I got into trouble a while ago for saying that I thought the internet led to increased literacy - people scolded me about the shocking grammar to be found online - but I was talking about fundamentals: quite simply, you can't use the net unless you can read.
Nothing like being scolded by a hippie.
Most men are not scolded out of their opinion.
The thing I like most about dogs is their absolute belief in their own innocence, even when they've been caught redhanded. No matter what they've been doing, every bad dog bears the same look when scolded: "What?"
The way in which modern German poetry follows theories reminds me of pupils who, scolded by their teacher for their insubordination, justify themselves by saying that they invented new rules of propriety according to which they are quite well- behaved.
