Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Tarty. 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 Tarty Quotes And Sayings by 84 Authors including Waverley Root,William Shakespeare,Erica Alex,F Scott Fitzgerald,John Skelton for you to enjoy and share.
Sweetly and subtly perfumed ... so soft it is best eaten with a spoon, a tenderness more appealing to gourmets than to those who have to pick, ship, handle and store it in constant fear of ruinous spoilage.
'Sblood, you starveling, you elf-skin, you dried neat's tongue, you bull's pizzle, you stock-fish! O for breath to utter what is like thee! you tailor's-yard, you sheath, you bowcase; you vile standing-tuck!
Virtuous and fair, royal and gracious.
As chaste as unsunned snow.
Be it tart or sweet, always savor the moment. You'll not taste one just like it again.
I've got an adjective that just fits you.
For though my rhyme be ragged,
Tattered and jagged,
Rudely rain-beaten,
Rusty and moth-eaten,
If ye take well therewith,
It hath in it some pith.
I said, 'tart'!" she snapped.
Lane's brows went up, but I merely continued to smile, choosing to assume that her answer was a reference to where the berries should go, and not to my person.
There's a hint of sweet with a full helping of stubborn and dirty as fuck.
The gentle fair on nervous tea relies,
Whilst gay good-nature sparkles in her eyes;
An inoffensive scandal fluttering round,
Too rough to tickle, and too light to wound.
A modest little person, with much to be modest about.
stupid, overbarbering, possesive, fur ball
Here it comes - Little Ms. Sassy Panties. Let me rephrase, Little Mrs. Sassy Panties.
Every one at the bottom of his heart cherishes vanity; even the toad thinks himself good-looking,
rather tawny perhaps, but look at his eye!
Sarie is such a comely girl," he said to them, "even the evil spirits will be heartbroken to see her hurt."- King Chuka
There was a faint, sharp sweetness about her, like the taste of raspberries. She wore fussy and frilly clothes and jingling bracelets with an air of surprised distaste, as if she had been put to sleep by a witch and had awoken to find herself in these trappings.
I shall call him Tufty.
He'd forgotten just how beautiful she was.
She was wearing a plain gown the color of weak, milky tea, largely covered by a black apron. There was a smudge of dirt across her cheek, and her gilded curls were an untamed riot with a cobweb draped across one side.
She was exquisite.
I am a mediocre being, a bit cunning.
I'm a lot of things, Tinkerbell. Sweet ain't one of them.
Sugar ain't spoiled, she just a little bruised, is all. Bruises can heal and fade away to nothing.
I shall be delighted to see you again this evening."
"Will you?"
(chuckles) "How tart! Positively lemonish of you."
"Lemonish; really.
You look beautiful sitting there spitting at me like a she-cat. All I have to do is look at you, and I lust. I'm going to take you back to the hotel and take off that delectable dress and make love to you until you don't have the energy to be mad at me anymore. Ian Connelly, Marquis of Derne
Cunning is a short blanket
if you pull it over your face, you expose your feet.
Rank, rump-fed harpy.
The cunning livery of hell.
Her hair was a tangle. Her filthy clothes would make any self-respecting debutante shriek in horror. Dirt streaked her piquant face. And still he thought she was utterly irresistible. He was in a bad way indeed. Several
I'm a lurid character!
cheery as a cherrio
Dude's got a look on his face like somebody just shoved a sweet-tart up his ass.
abysmally beshitted.
At home there tarries like a lurking snake,
Biding its time, a wrath unreconciled,
A wily watcher, passionate to slake,
In blood, resentment for a murdered child.
Elegant, feminine, and utterly wild. Warm, and steadfast - unbreakable, his queen.
She abounds with lucious faults.
Like a domestic cat, purring on the sofa by day, but by night, a strutting queen, a natural killer, disdainful of her other life.
In defiance of Miss Maccalariat I'd like to commit hanky-panky with you, Miss Adora Belle Dearheart ... well, certainly hanky, and possibly panky when we get to know one another better.
Vain the ambition of kings Who seek by trophies and dead things To leave a living name behind, And weave but nets to catch the wind.
But soft you, the fair Ophelia: Ope not thy ponderous and marble jaws, But get thee to a nunnery - go!
What is sweeter than lettered ease?
He couldn't read any more of Velvette's stories. This was too intimate. She spills her soul by stitching words so splendidly, even ragged threads are imperceptible.
on expensive dressmakers who made her luxurious dresses. But she was too mean to wear them: she saved them up at the back of her closet, and most of the time she wore an old mouse-colored housecoat.
Ay, that incestuous, that adulterate beast, With witchcraft of his wit, with traitorous gifts- O wicked wit and gifts, that have the power So to seduce!
Thou art a very ragged Wart.
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.
soft and sweet to look at with a prickly personality and a streak of defiant personality. I smirked. Kitten. It suited her.
Foul are my contents but sweeter than filth from the mouth.
Just thoroughgoingly nasty and sick.
I was always a bit arty-farty as a boy. 'Come on, Mr. Arty-Farty,' my sister used to say to me.
thin and elegant as a mantis
Shut up or i'll kill you by Achmed the dead tarries.
She was not quite what you would call refined.
She was not quite what you would call unrefined.
She was the kind of person that keeps a parrot.
Wash out her private parts with lye and throw her in a dungeon, Tarly commanded.
thou treacherous coal-souled wank-weasel!
The very cunning conceal their cunning; the indifferently shrewd boast of it.
I am very proud, revengeful,
ambitious, with more offences at my beck than I have
thoughts to put them in, imagination to give them shape,
or time to act them in.
In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond...
Fond of those hives where folly reigns,
And cards and scandal are the chains,
Where the pert virgin slights a name,
And scorns to redden into shame.
She's like a dessert-hoarding dragon." Alys
She was like a musician who may be an odious vulgarian in ordinary life, devoid of tact and taste; but who will hear a false note in music with diabolical accuracy of judgment.
I'm just dandy, I got a bowl of chocolate pudding in my underpants
Pretty as a painting, but thorny as a rose.
My evil genius Procrastination has whispered me to tarry 'til a more convenient season.
(a specially oily old gentleman in a blanket, with a swan's-down tippet for a beard, and a web of cracks all over him like rich pie-crust),
That word sassy - it haunts me. I keep getting the sassy thing.
He must have some Tartar in him, don't you think?" "I have no idea," Kate said. "Or is it 'Tatar.
gentle and innocent as wolves
as tricky as a prince
Does Raggedy Ann have a cotton crotch?
If I hear the word 'perky' again, I'll puke.
I can't even think of a word strong enough to describe him. Apparently I need to expand my vocabulary. Caleb
We came, we saw, we bedazzled! You know, and it's hard to be serious and thoughtful when you're dressed like a Skittle.
Voluptuous and enveloping like layers of precious fabrics
You're obstinate, pliant, merry, morose, all at once. For me there's no living with you, or without you.
Truth is tarter than taradiddles; and nothing is tarter, terser, than truth on the track of tired trash in a trance.
Dear, gentle, patient, noble Nell . . . .
I am not sinuous or suave; I sit among you abrading your softness with my hardness, quenching the silver-grey flickering moth-wing quiver of words with the green spurt of my clear eyes.
My lady, for your virtue and goodness, God would receive you in rags.
A lady laced with grace . . .
Such, is impossible to despise.
Missus said I was the worst waiting maid in Charleston. She said, "You are abysmal, Hetty, abysmal." I asked Miss Sarah what abysmal means and she said, "Not quite up to standard." Uh huh. I could tell from missus' face, there's bad, there's worse, and after that comes abysmal.
Oh ... My twitchy witchy girl I think you are so nice, I give you bowls of porridge And I give you bowls of ice-cream.
Vain until the bitter end.
Fierce wee thing. There's my brave lass.
Unholy battered old thing you were, my sunflower O my soul, I loved you then!
Great Timon, noble, worthy, royal Timon!
Ah, when the means are gone that buy this praise,
The breath is gone whereof this praise is made:
Feast-won, fast-lost; one cloud of winter showers,
These flies are couch'd.
Even she hair itself rough and wiry; long black knotty locks springing from she scalp and corkscrewing all the way down she back ...
The only thing soft about Tan-Tan is she big molasses-brown eyes that could look on you, and your heart would beat time ...
Timid or arrogant, Charming or infuriating, and Catherine was falling, falling, falling.
Frightfully pale and perpetually odd
O, how wretched is that poor man that hangs on princes' favors.
To fine folkes a little ill finely wrapt.
He is deformed, crooked, old and sere, Ill-faced, worse bodied, shapeless everywhere; Vicious, ungentle, foolish, blunt, unkind; Stigmatical in making, worse in mind.
Devilish in my innocence.
My dear, I should like to stick you full of barbed arrows like a p-p-pin cushion ... Where do you lurk? I shall come down your burrow and ch-chivvy you out like an old st-t-toat.
Believe me, fair lady, you may call yourself fortunate in having in this castle of yours sheltered my person, which is such that if I do not myself praise it, it is because of what is commonly said, that self-praise debaseth;
Cunning leads to knavery. It is but a step from one to the other, and that very slippery. Only lying makes the difference; add that to cunning, and it is knavery.
Undrape! you are not guilty to me, nor stale nor discarded,
I see through the broadcloth and gingham whether or no,
And am around, tenacious, acquisitive, tireless, and cannot be shaken away.
The thick plottens.
Elegantly yet beastly, caring yet deadly, she comes down to me.
This was the kind of woman who took her tea black, smoked cigars after midnight, played a mean game of cribbage, and kept a bevy of repulsive little dogs.
I confess I found it somewhat insipid when I last went ... it was all so prosy - so bonnety - so whisty and teacuppy - you see, the adjectives for it do not even exist, and I must invent them.
Vulgar of manner, overfed, Overdressed and underbred; Heartless, Godless, hell's delight, Rude by day and lewd by night. - Byron RufusNewton
My father compounded with my mother under the Dragon's tail, and my nativity was under Ursa Major, so that it follows, I am roughand lecherous. Tut, I should have been that I am, had the maidenliest star in the firmament twinkled on my bastardizing.