A Quote by Franny Billingsley

Now that’s true poetic irony. I rush into battle to defend the fair name of Rose Larkin, and what does she do but fetch Robert to stop me.

Franny Billingsley

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Battle Defend Does Fair Fetch Irony Me Name Now Poetic Robert Rose Rush She Stop True

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Franny Billingsley
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Born: July 3, 1954

My real name is Amanda Rose Saccomanno, so a lot of people don't know that, but Rose is kind of special in my family as my grandma's name is Rosemary, my mom's name is Mary Rose, I'm Amanda Rose, my niece is Demi Rose.

Mandy Rose

Go, lovely rose, Tell her that wastes her time and me, That now she knows, When I resemble her to thee, How sweet and fair she seems to be.

Edmund Waller

Go, lovely rose! Tell her that wastes her time and me That now she knows, When I resemble her to thee, How sweet and fair she seems to be.

Edmund Waller

What's your name?" what?" i asked, squinting at the light. your name." I reconized Dr. Olendzki peering over me. you know my name." I want you to tell me." Rose. Rose Hathaway." Do you know your birthday?" Of course I do. Why are you asking me such stupid things? Did you lose my records?" Dr. Olendzki gave an exasperated sigh and walked off, taking the annoying light with her. "I think she's fine.

Richelle Mead

As awkward as it sounds. I'm not Shane Larkin, Barry Larkin's son, anymore. It's Barry Larkin, the father of Shane Larkin.

Shane Larkin

Nick, fetch my car, fetch my clothes, sweep the chimney, make my bed, watch my psychopath, fetch my slippers.’ Yeah, I’ll fetch those slippers and stick them someplace real uncomfortable. I swear, my mother should have named me Fido. (Nick)

Sherrilyn Kenyon

I study her,” Patch said. “I figure out what she’s thinking and feeling. She’s not going to come right out and tell me, which is why I have to pay attention. Does she turn her body toward mine? Does she hold my eyes, then look away? Does she bite her lip and play with her hair, the way Nora is doing right now?” Laughter rose in the room. I dropped my hands to my lap. “She’s game,” said Patch, bumping my leg again. Of all things, I blushed.

Becca Fitzpatrick

A ROSE BY ANY OTHER NAME WILL SMELL AS SWEET. BUT IT DOES NOT FOLLOW THAT WHATEVER WE CHOOSE TO CALL A ROSE WILL POSSESS THE ROSE'S FRAGRANCE.

B. B. Warfield

I loved a lass, a fair one,As fair as e'er was seen;She was indeed a rare one,Another Sheba queen:But, fool as then I was,I thought she loved me too:But now, alas! she's left me,Falero, lero, loo!

George Wither

Let first the onion flourish there, Rose among roots, the maiden-fair, Wine-scented and poetic soul Of the capacious salad bowl.

Robert Louis Stevenson

Now the autumn shudders In the rose's root. Far and wide the ladders Lean among the fruit. Now the autumn clambers Up the trellised frame, And the rose remembers The dust from which it came. Brighter than the blossom On the rose's bough Sits the wizened orange, Bitter berry now; Beauty never slumbers; All is in her name; But the rose remembers The dust from which it came.

Edna St. Vincent Millay

Hillary had never run for office before, but she decided to give it a try. She began her campaign the way she always does new things, by listening and and learning. And after a tough battle, New York elected her to the seat once held by another outsider, Robert Kennedy.

William J. Clinton

Right now Andy Larkin is pitching just like young Andy Larkin.

Jerry Coleman

It's my real name. My mother's name is Rose Rock. It was the worst name as a kid to have. They called me Piece of the Rock, Plymouth Rock, Joe Rockid, and Flintstones. Now they call me Mister Rock.

Chris Rock

The rose is a rose, And was always a rose. But the theory now goes That the apple's a rose, And the pear is, and so's The plum, I suppose. The dear only knows What will next prove a rose. You, of course, are a rose - But were always a rose.

Robert Frost

There's a curse on me as there's a curse on the Larkin name. The curse comes back, again and again, to taunt me! Ronan! Kilty! Tomas! And now me! What are the Irish among men? Are we lepers? Are we a blight? Will there ever be an end to our tears?

Leon Uris

A Quote by Franny Billingsley

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