Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

I want everyone to start over. From the beginning.
Every fight is not worth fighting. You're learning that--
I wish I had written it.
Notice he didn't simply trash his father...
That ain't a lot syllables. Don't skip any. Get out of my sight.
You've been talking about him for three days. I got to view this guy.
Haiku poetry contains only seventeen syllables per poem.
Look. I don't want to make trouble.
Save your life.
- Hey, it's Mr. Racine. - People that's enough.
She found herself walking down a crowded street.
Maybe, including you.
My legs tangle with his.
Whatever his name is. God, I wish I didn't know.
Thanks, Brian.
She slept in a lovely little cottage made of gingerbread and candy.
- Not really. - You can owe me the money.
All that crap about honesty and truth. And he didn't even teach.
No, actually, he's a pretty cool guy.
Just this thing Angela wrote that I found.
- If I may interject... - Mom!
Yes. Will you shut up about it?
I did it to wake you up. I did it to do something.
So what is this substitute person like?
as I slip on another dress. I know this one will fit.
She's just passing out something that our English class wrote.
- Not verbs. Not nouns. But? - Adjectives.
People are saying everything. That he was fired.
Do you have to be the personal spokesperson for the entire school?
I mean, the stuff we wrote. It's in there.