Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Francie. Share them with your friends on social media platforms like Facebook, Twitter, or your personal blogs, and let the world be inspired by their powerful messages. Here are the Top 100 Francie Quotes And Sayings by 92 Authors including Honore De Balzac,Ann Bellows,John Green,C.c. Hunter,Lynn Viehl for you to enjoy and share.
HONORINE BEATRIX
Melissa officinalis
What's your name ?
Hazel .
No , your full name .
Um , Hazel Grace Lancaster .
She's a serial kisser. I think her parents are French.
Do you know what a tre vie is, Juliana?
to do with Lottie's final wishes for her memoirs. With the help of Millie and Henry, Fran and
Pam: Claude, the mouthwateringly beautiful asshole?
Do you hear that, Francie? You're in college! 'oh gosh, I feel sick.
[Myrnin to Claire about their costumes of Pierrot and Harlequin, respectively]
"Don't they teach you anything in your schools?"
"Not about this."
"Pity. I suppose that's what comes of your main education flowing from Google.
CASTLES IN THE AIR Laurie
Neither does she have a name
none that I could find even in my most persistent researches: Julian's gentle lady, I mean; she whom I sought and chased and wooed (as it were) down a warren of historical tunnels.
Previously, when I began to write this tale, I set out by saying that Mlle. Claude was a whore. She is a whore, of course, and I'm not trying to deny it, but what I say now is
if Mlle. Claude is a whore then what name shall I find for the other women I know?
Who is Silvia What is she, That all our swains commend her Holy, fair, and wise is she.
In the eighth American-educational grade, Bruce Green fell dreadfully in love with a classmate who had the unlikely name of Mildred Bonk. The name was unlikely because if ever an eighth-grader looked like a Daphne Christianson or a Kimberly St.-Simone or something like that, it was Mildred Bonk.
Lauricia or Aurelia?
Lydia. Beautiful. My everlasting dream.
Definitely not a Gertrude.
Frances is a sealed letter. It doesn't matter where she's been or who's pawed her, no one gets to handle the contents no matter how grimy the envelope. And it's for sure no one's going to be able to steam her open.
This is Vee Gina.
Rue, who when you ask her what she loves most in the world, replies, of all things, Music.
Dominic Chocolate!!!
Janelle, you're my home.
Letty had barely touched her food. Javier stared down at her through a pair of aviator sunglasses. "You forgot something," she said. "What's that?" "My name. Who will they be expecting?" "Selena Kitt. S-E-L-E-N-A K-I-T-T. But you won't be carrying any identification.
Received its first phone call from heaven, Tess Rafferty
From now on, she was Juliette Gervaise, code name the Nightingale.
Grace-" He scowled, then laughed. "What the devil is your middle name?"
"Catriona." she whispered.
"Grace Catriona Eversleigh," he said, loud and sure, "I love you.
My name is Mike. Instantly forgettable. Unlike Heather. What a breathless little name that is.
For Nicole, my idea of beauty
Another girl? That's awesome Shea. What are you guys going to name her, Sheanana?
That queen of secrecy, the violet.
The Swendish queen - whose name I couldn't pronounce to save my life.
She [Mme des Laumes] belonged to that half of the human race in whom the curiosity the other half feels about the people it does not know is replaced by an interest in the people it does.
JEAN
I need him like the axe needs the turkey.
HARRINGTON
Don't be vulgar, Jean. Let us be crooked, but never common.
Quite definitely a Bingley
CLAIRE
I used to be a baby!
CADAN
I'm sorry.
Who do you serve?" Lanferelle asked.
"Sir John Cornerwailled," Hook said proudly.
Lanferelle was pleased. "Sir John! Ah, there's a man. His mother must have slept with a Frenchman.
What a strange family you are! Is your name Lettie too?
Get ready for 'Les Mis 2' ... I'm playing 'Fat Cosette.'
Vianne had been improvising recipes for years, and people, to her mind, were not that much different than food. Both were highly predictable if you paid attention. First,
She is not a cookie. Neither is she a biscuit, a PopTart, Sweet TART, apple tart, or any other kind of pastry. She is my apprentice.
I always thought there was something French about her, ever since the word 'insouciance' flitted across the surface of my mind the first time we met.
Thou hast her, France; let her be thine, for we
Have no such daughter, nor shall ever see
That face of hers again. Therefore be gone
Without our grace, our love, our benison.
I've always been a fan of Fran Drescher!
Shirley! Don't call me Shirley!
Jane Jameson."
He grinned. "Like the porn star."
I gaped at him. "What? No, Jane Jameson."
"Oh, not as fun," he said, making disappointed clucking noises.
(Who Did No Harm to No Man all the Dais of Her Life. Reader, Can You Say Lykewise?).
Eva. Every day I've climbed up the belfry chanting a lucky chant at one syllable per beat, To-day-to-day-let-her-be-here-to-day-to-day.
Violet Markey.There's more to you than meets the eye.
A hundred francs," thought Fantine. "But in what trade can one earn a hundred sous a day?" "Come!" said she, "let us sell what is left." The unfortunate girl became a woman of the town.
The elder Miss Larkin
Jenny? Just as I was considering
Even after all these years, she still said the word "gig" self-consciously, in the same way that she always said "croissant" with the proper French pronunciation, but with an apologetic, self-deprecating look to make up for her pretentiousness.
I'm Beatrice. You were my first kiss, I fell asleep in your arms in your precious orchard. -Julia
Francie, Neeley, and mama had a very fine meal. Each had a thick slice of the "tongue," two pieces of sweet-smelling rye bread spread with unsalted butter, a sugar bun apiece and a mug of strong hot coffee with a teaspoon of sweetened condensed milk on the side.
Who loves you most, and loves you best, and thinks of you when others rest? 'Tis Emilie.
Francia don't look too convinced. I never seen arms so crossed.
Renesmee was beautiful and gifted and unique - she was one of a kind.
This is beautiful." Eugenie ran her fingers along a massive mahogany sideboard, on the top of which rested a red velvet sash with fine embroidery on it and, on top of the sash, a silver dagger. That little vignette was Jean Lafitte in a nutshell. Refined gentleman and renegade. Velvet and violence.
It might be the white woman or man our son or daughter will marry and the white woman or man our grandson or granddaughter will marry, all of them wading into the future until one of our line claims to be Sicilian. Leave instructions: the granddaughter of our granddaughter shall be named Cicily.
She is an attractive, robust, fleshy, large-headed woman several years younger than Laura (it seems that every one, suddenly, is at least slightly younger than she).
Hello Clarice...
Who's that little brunette?" Suzanne asked. "I hate little petite types. Gregory doesn't look right with someone petite. Little face, little hands, little dainty feet."
"Big boobs," Beth said, glancing up.
I got a girl named Bony Maronie, she's as skinny as a stick of macaroni.
She has the care of a mother, the love of a sister, a prostitute in bed. Who is she?
People always come up to me and say, Oh, you're Chloe Se-VIG-ny, right? Sevigny. Number seven, letter e.
This is not a good time, Miss Implant." Roman felt Jean-Luc jabbing him in the back with his walking stick. "Uh, Porky. No, I mean
" Damn, what the hell was her name?
I am pretty unextraordinary, ~ Hazel Grace Lancaster.
She thinks my name is Freddie, you know, but of course it ain't. I
always tell these people some name like that, because if they got onto
your right name they might use it sometime. Understand?
Junie B. Jones. The B stands for Beatrice. Except, I don't like Beatrice. I just like B and that's all.
Debussy
A pretty girl with one blue eye and one brown one.
She was good-natured with a ribald sense of humour, breaking wind fairly frequently and uninhibitedly, then asking in a loud voice: "Who's let Johnny out of prison?" I
Jesper Llewellyn Fahey, that is enough!" Colm roared. (...)
Inej cocked her head to one side. "Jesper Llewellyn Fahey?"
"Shut up," said Jesper. "It's a family name."
Inej made a solemn bow. "Whatever you say, Llewellyn.
Her name's Brienne.
Your sister Betsey Trotwood...
Who are you calling?" (claire) Pizza hut" (shane) Loser" (claire)
Her name was Marroca, probably her maiden name, and she pronounced it as though it had fifteen r's in it.
Brianna! I wouldn't feed that nasty sandwich to my WORST ENEMY!" And by worst enemy, I meant people like . . . well, you know . . . MACKENZIE HOLLISTER !! Although,
I get called Jacqueline Bissette in America. In France, I get called Jackie Bisset. And actually, it is Jacqueline Bisset, which is not that easy to say.
JAQUES: Rosalind is your love's name?
ORLANDO: Yes, just.
JAQUES: I do not like her name.
ORLANDO: There was no thought of pleasing you when she was christened.
Jessica, who loves stories,
Not like the me was some tough somebody, or somebody she had put together for show. But like, like somebody she favored and could count on. A secret somebody you didn't have to feel sorry for or have to fight for. -Felice
Oliver: You turned me down. So why, I wonder, did you decide Amelie would be a better choice?
Claire: She smells better. And she made me cookies.
Anne of Windy Poplars
Coralie Casey was the kind of woman calories were made for; that dewy peaches-and-cream complexion, glossy cherry lips, the succulence of her body beneath that orange, silky dress. A cornucopia of curves, you could say, except it was probably better not to think about horns of plenty.
Antoine, you have a phone call." Chef Fanelli
It's so French to be a cat person.
Elizabeth Spencer.
I wondered if anybody had ever called her "ma'am," or "Miss Mayella" in her life; probably not, as she took offense to routine courtesy. What on earth was her life like? I soon found out.
She's a lovely young woman from upstate New York, but you should be very thankful for those romance-novel-reading, tween-movie-watching women. They've had a big hand in making our town a success." "And Julian's love life, once he learned to spray himself with glitter.
I am terrible with people's names.
She loved him, the way the she should love Julian: Uncle Arthur would have called it philia, friendship love.
Rilla," Raoul said, and at the sound of my childhood nickname, my heart gave a pang. "Don't I have the right to claim what is mine?"
"Of course you do," I said ... "But surely not at any cost.
'Seanan McGuire' is my real name; if I'm being silly and third-person about it, she's a frequently cranky, foul-mouthed Disney Princess on vacation in the real world, where she studies diseases, cuddles reptiles, watches lots of horror movies, and goes to as many corn fields as possible.
Don't make a career out of underestimating me." - Claire de Haven
McKenna was her counterpart, her compass, her sanctuary.
It was Paxton Osgood, wearing a cute pink dress and gorgeous shoes. She was tall like her brother, but had wide curves, as if one of her angular French ancestors had scandalized everyone by marrying a pretty stout milkmaid, and several generations later, Paxton was the result.
The French woman says,
'I am a woman and a Parisienne,
and nothing foreign to me
appears altogether human.'
daughter-in-law, Cecy, with whom she had become dear friends.
The girl was beautiful, her skin like fresh cream and her long hair so dark it seemed to suck the color out of everything it surrounded. She was small. French women all seemed to be small-boned bird creatures, delicate in a way Eby could never be.
Be careful, mon bijou.