Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Tropez. 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 Tropez Quotes And Sayings by 95 Authors including Rick Riordan,Sandra Tsing Loh,Jacques-Yves Cousteau,James I Of Scotland,James Patterson for you to enjoy and share.
DAGAZ - new beginnings, transformations
I am a longtime, rabid fan of Jonathan Kozol.
There was wildlife, untouched, a jungle at the border of the sea, never seen by those who floated on the opaque roof. Describing his early experience, in 1936, when a fellow naval officer, Philippe Tailliez, gave him goggles to see below the Mediterranean Sea surface.
The bird, the best, the fisch eke in the see,They live in fredome, everich in his kynd.And I a man, and lakkith libertee.
Foie gras and caviar tureens. About
Welcome to the FAYZ. Wherever, whenever or whyever that is
Whiz Galliano whip whip the Armani In the drip drip lick lick like a lolly
A pig's trotter is a fantastic thing. The first night of my honeymoon in Paris, my wife fell asleep in her steak tartare, so my trotter kept me company.
I would've liked to have been Poussin, if I'd had a choice, in another time.
Terplash, & what difference make! One little white spark of light! Hair woven hands Penelope seaboat smeller
Is Virgin you trying to fathom me Tiresome old sea, aint you sick & tired of all of this merde? this incessant boom boom & sand walk
Dominic Chocolate!!!
THE ADVENTURE OF THE SPECKLED BAND
I took the road less travled, now I'm lost.
Fantastique, 'Dream of a Witches' Sabbat'. "Though
Tut, Tut, looks like rain
With her enchanting songs, her rare beauty, and clever tricks, this wild 'wanderess' ensnared my soul like a gypsy-thief, and led me foolish and blind to where you find me now. The first time I saw her, fires were alight. It was a spicy night in Barcelona. The air was fragrant and free.
THE GRACKLE
The
Wer rastet, rostet - what rests, rusts.
Pigeon she strut on the rooftop
Cockroach he strut on the sink
My baby strut down to Jerusalem
Where blood is the favorite drink
Welcome to Miz-fest 2010! It's all going A-Ry.
A rune, hovering like an angel: a shape like two wings joined by a single bar.
Richie Beirach Trio
BOSS: We need something gross that also communicates easy-to-use. EMPLOYEE: Cheez Whiz? BOSS: Brilliant. Cheez Whiz it is. Now get back to working on names for that jar of fluffy marshmallow insides.
If you've heard of Freezy Freakies gloves, Hans and Karl Reichstetter know this about you: You were probably born in the 1970s or early 1980s and you probably spent your childhood in the Northeast.
Nature: a place where birds fly around uncooked
My place is placeless, a trace of the traceless.
fantastic shadows of birds
We don't have anyone with bad haircuts, which is a good thing. Louis Delmas has some pretty nice dreads. He's a Florida boy, so they know how to do it. He gets the title.
Mistah Kurtz--he dead.
He shakes his head. His dark messy hair has a few curls in it today.It's quite breathtaking,really.If there were an Olympics competition in hair, St. Clair would totally win,hands down. Ten-point-oh.Gold medal.
His hair is like feathers.
MY NAME IS BARSCH LA TERGAN, HEAR ME ROAR!
Snooty high heels.
Her wavy blond hair
Sweating like a fat woman in a sauna, nun with a tattoo on her tit, overweight jockey.
corn maque choux. He
The first clothing line I had was called Very Rue. Then we changed the name and moved to QVC, and the name became A Touch of Rue.
Weave, weave the sunlight in your hair-
Storm returns with close-cropped hair the color of corn silk and a new swagger.
My long, blonde hair has been my trademark ever since I started modelling in the Seventies, when I was scouted sunbathing in St Tropez.
DeLois lived up the block on 142nd Street and never had her hair done, and all the neighbourhood women sucked their teeth as she walked by. Her crispy hair twinkled in the summer sun as her big proud stomach moved her on down the block while I watched, not caring whether or not she was a poem.
Roberta Marieschi
I'm a wandering gypsy.
Ludwik Szatera was a passionate lover of nostalgia. He could never come to terms with the eternal passage of men, objects and events. Each moment inexorably turning into the past was to him precious, invaluable, and he witnessed its passing with a sense of inexpressible regret.
I always thought I'd live in Paris, Rome, Madrid - at least for a while. It strikes me now that I didn't dream of Zanzibar or Papeete or Tashkent: even my fantasy was cautious, a good girl's fantasy, a blanched almond of a fantasy. Today, even that is enough to clench my fists and curl my toes. In
There are still a lotta nice Sicilian boys in New Orleans. (A nonna's advice to a zitella.)
Truffles must come to the table in their own stock and as you break open this jewel sprung from a poverty-stricken soil, imagine - if you have never visited it - the desolate kingdom where it rules.
Calliope feathers on the wings of my hopes and my dreams,
To some day fly high in the lavender sky.
A warm wind caresses my face,
And my heart overflows with grace.
The dawn breaks to herald a dazzling new day,
As I hover, zip, zoom The Hummingbird Way.
Within the last two years it had been called Tony's, Belle's Bar Sinister, The Ole Plantation, Tony's, Alt Wien, Paris Soir
or Sewer
Victor's Vesuvius, Chez Cocotte, York House, Gay Madrid, and Tony's.
The best thing you can say about Hubbard Street is that if you were a dancer, this is a company you'd fight to get into.
Belinsky: 'Who is this Moloch that eats his children?'
Herzen: 'It's the Ginger Cat.
I aint trippen never slicking or slacking on my pimping
Borderline embarrassing fact: I used to have a pseudo line when I was seven called Zizzy Fashion. I love clothing, and I would eventually like to design as well as act.
Oh that short hair, a la garcon that evokes unfamiliar, boyish kinds of sex.
Wee, sleekit, cowrin, tim'rous beastie,
O, what a panic's in thy breastie!
magnificent canyon of fashion.
Tazburg, Mise, Divine, South Ridge. He read the names off the
The sky's gray and there's mizzle. It's so soft on my skin
it's nothing like rain. It's even softer than the lightest drizzle! Lift my face up, so it can kiss my skin. The Panopticon
Shoes twisted into incredible lilies.
We are creatures of loss; we have left everything behind. I have no home, no path, and no certainty. I am no longer Tris, the selfless, or Tris, the brave. I suppose now, I must become more than either.
Painted mafritty fritters frittering fitty fitty scented candelabra abra cadaver. Candle blah blah.
Duck-bill, n. Your account at your restaurant during the canvas-back season.
Behind sunglasses we linger over espresso, talking about pizza as an art form, the geekiness of people's travel clothes ...
Yol Bolsun" (May there be a road) [Louis L'Amour}
Under the tropic is our language spoke, And part of Flanders hath receiv'd our yoke.
Angleterre Hotel,
I will cover the walls with words. It will be la chambre des mots.
The venal herd.
[Lat., Venale pecus.]
Shined, combed, brushed and gorgeous
Don't add an eezy to my name, 'cause it has never been that'
Norbert the Norwegian Ridgeback
You're a goose-down parka and a pair of mittens away from Narnia
The concierge was a snapper who was over the hill and down a disused mine-shaft. Her hair was every bit as natural as a parade goose-stepping down the Wilhelmstrasse, and she'd evidently been wearing a boxing-glove when she's applied the crimson lipstick to her paperclip of a mouth.
Mama Ganache chocolate
Oftwhile balbulous, mithre ahead, with goodly trowel in grasp and ivoroiled overalls which he habitacularly fondseed ...
nocturnal purple.
I wonder what Matthias would have to say about that outfit." "He wouldn't approve." "He doesn't approve of anything about you. But when you laugh, he perks up like a tulip in fresh water." Nina snorted. "Matthias the tulip." "The big, brooding, yellow tulip.
Either people walk round dressed as chickens or they listen to Beethoven.
That was the thing about Levantin: he loved the birds, but he really loved the places they brought him. When you spend your career in the confines of a gray suit, the pipits at dawn above timberline are even more wondrous.
Carquinez Strait
Summer Stoltz had taken a cruise to Insanity Sea, and now I was docked back on land. And I felt the shit. I was the shit. Shithead Summer - that was my new name. I groaned, catching my head in my hands. "Oh, no.
Who are the violets now
That strew the lap of the new-come spring?
The Park Avenue of poodles and polished brass; it is cab country, tip-town, glassville, a window-washer's paradise.
Dorkangelo" - Marc Hunter
Truffaut loved Hitchcock.
little red bird. Don't go.
Keeping all things in their places. Everybody was dressed for a Fancy Ball that was never to leave off. From the Palace of the Tuileries, through Monseigneur and the whole Court, through the Chambers, the Tribunals of Justice, and all society (except the scarecrows),
Pigpen's on the move.
I always return to Paris, taking my selves along - past self, customary self, the self I never had.
The twelve months ...
Snowy, Flowy, Blowy,
Showery, Flowery, Bowery,
Hoppy, Croppy, Droppy,
Breeze, Sneezy, Freezy.
The Proustian aquarium: grotesque and gorgeous fish drifting with languid fins through a subaqueous medium of pale violet polluted ink.
I think Robitussin is way underrated.
chased by the shadows of clouds.
Who sail on stormy seas;
And that's the way I get my bread
A trifle, if you please.
Florentino Ariza was awake most of the night, thinking that he heard the voice of Fermina Daza in the fresh river breeze, ministering to his solitude with her memory, hearing her sing in the respiration of the boat as it moved like a great animal in the darkness.
There weren't so many transvestite prostitutes in Oaxaca in those days; Flor really stood out, and not only because she was tall. She was almost beautiful; what was beautiful about her truly wasn't affected by the softest-looking trace of a mustache on her upper lip, though Lupe noticed it.
Since when did you know anything about mimicking bird calls, Zoltan?' 'That's the whole point. If you hear a strange, unrecognisable sound, you'll know it's me.
Summerlee burst into derisive laughter. 'A ptero-fiddlestick!' said he. 'It was a stork, if I ever I saw one.
Bouncing in hoppy little circles like a demented Goth bunny.
Whither thou goest...