Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Marie. 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 Marie Quotes And Sayings by 90 Authors including Leslie Nielsen,Brett Wright,Roxanne St. Claire,Debbie Macomber,Jacob Grimm for you to enjoy and share.
Shirley! Don't call me Shirley!
Holy crap. It's Juliet!
Hey what's your name"
"Candi." She's hesitant, like that beaten dog Jade mentioned. "Candi Woodward."
"I'm Ayla Monroe."
She laughs uneasily. "I know."
"Out, Candi Cane," Jane orders.
Mousy. It was the only word Travis could think to describe Mary Warner when she stepped off the plane. His heart sank and took a moment to rally itself. Long legs, that was all he'd asked for, and what did he get? Minnie Mouse.
Jorinda and Jorindel
'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.
Lucie had been many things to me: a child, a source of comfort, a balm, an escape from myself; she was literaly everything for me but a woman.
Gilly Gilleshpee
Mirren, she is sugar, curiosity, and rain.
Florence Nightendick
Elena.
Hush, let me talk to the crazy lady.
At this point I meet Me face to face. I am Mary MacLane: of no importance to the wide bright world and dearly and damnably important to Me.
My heart beats her name
If I wasn't Maryse ... I would want to be.
She has the care of a mother, the love of a sister, a prostitute in bed. Who is she?
NICOLE CULLEN Long Tom Lookout
Mary Quant is my favourite fashion designer.
It begins and ends with Mackenzie.
Evie, Evie, my girl, my heart.
Clara looked at Maria and tried to understand what she must do so that Maria would be able to see her. But the little French girl cast all around her the bronze of infinite solitude.
Marie, now Mme. Driscoll, turned to Berthe and smiled, as she used to when they were children. Once again, the smile said, Have I done the right thing? Is this what you wanted? Yes, yes, said Berthe silently, but she went on crying.
Juliette.
I can't control a nightmare, but in my waking moments her name is the only reminder I will permit myself.
That girl can barely spell her name.
Why did you think my reason for being here had something to do with Frannie?" Luke asked. "Because she's what we all have in common." "No, Feagan is what we all have in common." "But Frannie is the one we all circle around to protect.
Jasper to her. I was obliged
How about peaches, dear? murmurs Madame Manec, and Marie-Laure can hear a can opening, juice slopping into a bowl. Seconds later, she's eating wedges of wet sunlight.
Marjoram ... Blushes.
Marie Houzelle is a master of the first-person narrative. In Tita she has created a strange, utterly original child whose deadpan certainties are a beguiling invitation to readers of all ages.
Nix, you beautiful bitch.
The places that once knew [Marie Antoinette] now know her forever.
I have seen all, I have heard all, I have forgotten all. marie antoinette
Lydia. Beautiful. My everlasting dream.
Did you just call me BEATRICE?
A beautiful woman, Simone Weil said, seeing herself in the mirror, knows "This is I." An ugly woman knows with equal certainty, "This is not I." Maud knew this neat division represented an over-simplification. The doll-mask she saw had nothing to do with her, nothing.
Tess
DY-N-AMITE
Tim
What happened to her now?
Her name is Portia
That queen of secrecy, the violet.
My name's Margareta, by the way." "Oh," I said, then thought that I ought to say something more. She looked as if she were expecting a reply, but what could I say? What could I possibly have to say about her name? Her name was Margareta. Okay. Good. Nice name.
Hazel Grace, I love it when you talk medical to me.
Katherine the Midwife
Helen, thy beauty is to me
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.
Nora pressed Nico
O Helena, goddess, nymph, perfect, divine! To what, my love, shall I compare thine eyne? Crystal is muddy. O, how ripe in show Thy lips, those kissing cherries, tempting grow!
Fortuna, that vicious slut.
Clare. Give me a reason to stay.
I wonder who you'll marry now, Esther.
I'm Beatrice. You were my first kiss, I fell asleep in your arms in your precious orchard. -Julia
Where's Vanessa?
She was my destination. I was always on the way to Lena, even when I wasn't. Even when she wasn't on her way to me.
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.
comfort. I'd decided Lucy
Elizabeth Spencer.
Perry Johansson.
daughter-in-law, Cecy, with whom she had become dear friends.
That girl you can't stop thinking about; the one that makes you feel shit you don't think you're allowed to feel; Dillon, she can't hear a word you say. Cadence - she's deaf.
Cheyenne. Created from the finest Belgian lace over ivory sateen, it fit Anna like
Little Princess Little Lord
CLAIRE
I used to be a baby!
CADAN
I'm sorry.
Nina, little red bird. Don't go.
I was thinking of Lena. Of course. I was always thinking of Lena.
Stay with me always, my sweet, my love . . . my Claire.
Alexis, I love you.
The picturesque doctor's daughter, Miss Manette.
who kept reading out excerpts from her magazine, one of those real-life mags, full of stories about unfaithful spouses, child abuse and kids with cancer.
My name is Anne; spelled with an e at the end." said Anne to Mrs. Thomas.
But when Marie laughed, when her mouth curved in a perfect arch, when her eyes became the combined colors of hydrogen on the visible light spectrum, when the manifestation of happiness as perfect music passed her lips, then time stopped. Just
Madame Maxime entered
My little Jasnah, insufferable and wonderful.
Beauty and Other Vices Marcia Griswold
Why hasn't Marie shot you yet?" "Because I'm not in denial about what my cock wants," Horse replied. "I piss her off, I get no pussy. Watch and learn.
(herself in the family-way),
Not only a countess but a nymph of the greenwood,
When I met you, Peri, I thought this girl doesn't know it but she carries the three passion of Bertrand Russel: the longing for love, the search for knowledge and unbearable compassion for the suffering of mankind.
Hart caressed the letters of baby Graham's name. Mac likes to say, We're Mackenzies. We break what we touch. But this little Mackenzie ... he broke me.
Her dress is the colour of marmalade, she chirps songs that have no words
The lady of situations.
Soren, this is my mother, Jenna Glyn. Mom, this is Soren, my ... ' She blinks and shakes her head before saying, ' ... my everything.'
Jenna's eyes widen in horror, and I don't mind because I dislike her, too. Vehemently.
It is nothing, Marie-Laure. Come now." Marie-Laure backs out. Below her, her great-uncle whispers nursery rhymes to himself. "I can sit with him for a bit, Madame. Maybe we could read some more of our
Dear, gentle, patient, noble Nell . . . .
Courage, Alexander.....
Courage, Tatiana
Izzy. Sweet, beautiful, but eternally strange Izzy.
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.
[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.
What Marie Antoinette was to eighteenth-century France, Mary Pickford is to twentieth-century America.
And Clare, always Clare.
All day Marie-Laure lies on her stomach and reads. Logic, reason, pure science: these, Aronnax insists, are the proper ways to pursue a mystery. Not fables and fairy tales.
Rue, who when you ask her what she loves most in the world, replies, of all things, Music.
Jess again. Mark had called her Jessica. As if she were a full person, not a truncated portion of one.
Marie-Laure hears Madame Manec: You must never stop believing.
She's my baby girl, Quinn. I want love for her. Real love. The kind that makes a man crazy inside.
-Gibraltar to Quinn
The whore, who said her name was Sandra, offered me delights unobtainable outside of Place Pigalle and Port Said. I said I wasn't interested, and she was bright enough to say that she wasn't really interested either. As things turned out, we had both overestimated our apathies, but not by much.
She and Marie were Montreal girls, not trained to accompany heroes, or to hold out for dreams, but just to be patient.
She had a pretty name but she knew she wasn't pretty.
She a patient waitin in my room
She is rich in beauty.
She summahs in Lake James, how mahvelous
Rachell believed passionately in the value of beauty. If she was pressed for time she considered the filling of her bowl with flowers more important for her family's welfare than the making of a cake for tea. On this point her family entirely disagreed with her.
You are my life."
-Maris