A Quote by Charles Dickens

"She's a very charming and delightful creature," quoth Mr. Robert Sawyer, in reply; "and has only one fault that I know of, Ben. It happens, unfortunately, that that single blemish is a want of taste. She don't like me."
I was thrilled to work opposite Carl Reiner and Robert De Niro. Mr. Reiner was very chatty and delightful, but I learned that if you want Robert De Niro to like you, don't speak at all, and he'll be friendly to you.
The American woman is a charming creature. She is of a type most unusual and delightful... And their feet and ankles are the most perfect in the world.
do you have to sit so close?" she asked on a ragged breath. "Yes." was his only reply. "want to tell me why?" "no." (Darius replied) "i don't like it." She insisted scooting from him for the second time. He moved closer "want to tell me why?" he parroted. "No" she parroted right back.
Once she was certain, she didn't waiver. I had to make her stop for water or a bite to eat. She obeyed, but she was restless. As clear as if she spoke to me, she was saying, "Very well, I know you want to keep my strength up, but scent fades, you know!" And I'd say, "I know, girl, buy you're what I have and I'm going to take care of you.
Speaking of opinions, the charming woman does not air hers very freely. The crude woman is eager to let you know what she thinks of every matter, person or object that bobs up. She comments on every passing item - even in public, as you may have noticed. Not only is it bad taste for her to be so desperately interested in her own reactions and opinions - but she throws away the precious aura of reserve and mystery that makes a woman attractive.
I was so honored when Diane Sawyer named me 'Person of the Week,' and like I told her, 'Diane, I love my daughter.' I cried when I found out when she told me she was gay when she was 17 because of the judgment.
I was so honored when Diane Sawyer named me "Person of the Week," and like I told her, "Diane, I love my daughter." I cried when I found out when she told me she was gay when she was 17 because of the judgment.
My mom is a painter and an artist. She would play music, and she always had very good taste in music, fashion, and art. She was also a young single mom, so I think she had really good style; she was really free... just really inspiring in her own way and allowed me to find the direction I wanted to take in my life.
What do you want? "To know you," she said without hesitation. "All of you. I want to know what makes you feel good." "Your laughter," he said without hesitation. "Feeling your hands on me. The way you look at me, whether I've been a complete dumbass, or just made you come-" With a laugh, she ducked her head, but he dipped his down until she was looking at him again. "You want to know what scared me?" he asked. "Yes" He leaned even closer and slid a hand to the nape of her neck. "The thought of never having those things with you again." -Chloe and Sawyer (Head over Heels)
She crawled,” Ben said. There were tears in his voice. That was wrong. Ben barely even tolerated me on the best of days. “She crawled to the bathroom to clean herself again. If it weren’t for the two subs in the pack, I’d be on the bottom. And she wouldn’t stand up in my presence for guilt.
She was a beautiful woman." Gavner sighed, tracing the outline of one of the elephants. "She just had very bad taste in underwear …" "And in boyfriends," I added impishly. Mr. Crepsley burst into laughter at that
I don't know that I have a favorite meal. When I'm cooking I'm thinking about the person I'm feeding and I want to make them whatever they want. My husband's favorite meal is carbonara. I guess my favorite food is anything my mom makes. Because like anybody who loves their mother's cooking, if you try and make your mom's recipes, they never taste quite the same. And I don't know if that's because she's lying about what she's putting in there and just not telling me. Like when I turn my back, she's sneaking something in there. It just never seems to taste the same.
Do you know what happens when an Arabian woman dances? She does not dance: she protests, she loves, she cries, she makes love, she dreams, she goes away from her reality, to her own world, where love is really meant and she does not want to come back, because that is her reality.
I'm sorry," she says. I wheel around. "You know, you're a total know-it-all. And it's incredibly rude sometimes; I mean, you're not perfect either, and you act like it's my fault but it's not my fault for being quiet or your fault for being a know-it-all. It's not your problem or my problem; it's their problem. They're the demented ones, not us, so don't take it out on me, because the only thing that holds things together for me is having someone else on the Not Demented Team.
My little sister Aliana's opinions are the most important to me. She says, 'I want to look like you, you're so pretty!' But she is very beautiful and so she is trouble in the making! She wants to do what I do. I'm like her second mother and I am very protective of her.
If I should have a daughter, instead of 'Mom,' she's gonna call me 'Point B,' because that way she knows that no matter what happens, at least she can always find her way to me. And I'm going to paint solar systems on the backs of her hands so she has to learn the entire universe before she can say, 'Oh, I know that like the back of my hand.'
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