Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Velveteen. 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 Velveteen Quotes And Sayings by 98 Authors including Hilda Doolittle,Gina Conkle,D.h. Lawrence,Jeff Lindsay,Treasure Stitches for you to enjoy and share.
Fall the deep curtains,
delicate the weave,
fair the thread.
Claire coaxed free another loop of cloth. The slow side of cotton against cotton matched the soft tenor or her voice.
'I have lots of talents Mr. Ryland. Listening is only one of them.
Rippling, rippling, rippling, like a flapping overlapping of soft flames, soft as feathers, running to points of brilliance, exquisite, exquisite and melting her all molten inside.
Baleen was a very pricey place that I would not have attempted on my own modest means. It has the kind of oak-paneled elegance that makes you feel the need for a cravat and spats.
Fabrics doesn't make exquisite dresses, it is the stitches.
Love comforts, it is gentle, it is warm and you can feel it within your entire being.
A purple velvet sofa is a gals symbol of freedom.
Call me old-fashioned, but whenever I see those wire-fortified ribbons, I have the secret stab of nostalgia for old-timey ribbon, the kind whose ends flop like spaniel ears. I'm suspicious of unnaturally perky ribbon.
A beautiful nap this afternoon that put velvet between my vertebrae.
Secluded in her living room, the midday sun dimmed by long, burgundy drapes - the soft velvet cloth a steal on EBay - Circe watches the soapies on her plasma screen TV. Her elegant fingers deliver fine chocolates to her perfect lips. Her divine green eyes are dull, her expression glazed.
I wore a white velvet gown, similar to my Smolny dress. I looked forward to the day when I could wear any color in public other than white. White was innocent. My soul was not.
The dress of Virtue, in our parts, was cotton print. I had silk.
Where's the lace?Lace-- Nalini Singh
Tangle me up like Grandma's yarn,
Like faint flowers in the diaphonous fabrics of the twenties: beautiful, trivial fabrics so flimsy they could not hope to last?
I question the negative connotations of fabric, of ribbon, of lace. I turn these symbols of our imprisonment around.
Are you rage, wrapped in skin, tight like leather dried in the desert sun?
From: "The Comfort of Black
What was the point in satin and lace if it didn't make a man struggle to speak?
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.
Leather and lace is such a sexy combination.
mistress of Netherfold.
What is the fabric of time like? Black silk? A smooth twill, a rough tweed? Or lacy and fragile like something Mrs. Baxter would knit?
Take a cat, nourish it well with milk and tender meat, make it a couch of silk ...
Something soft and wild and free, something that whispered to the ear on the pillow, lightened the heart, softly, softly picked the lock, slid the bolts, and released the prisoned spirit of man into the wind, into the blue and gold, into the morning, into the morning!
She was sent to sleep under a velvety cloak of words, richly patterned and stitched with gold, straight out of a fairy tale, while they went reading on into her dreams.
Trust me. - Silk
I am a thing made of lace and blood. Swathed in silk and dripping with the dark deeds of men.
She tangled her words
like matted fishing lines
Hanging softly over the black Singer sewing machine, it looked like magic, and when people saw me wearing it they were going to run up to me and say, "Marguerite, forgive us, please, we didn't know who you were," and I would answer generously, "No, you couldn't have known. Of course I forgive you.
All feminine claws, he said to himself, are sheathed in velvet; but they can hurt a good deal if they touch you on the sore places of the defects of your qualities
even merely with the velvet.
To borrow from the writings of a spider named Charlotte: 'Silk is terrific!'
The reel of silk has run smoothly enough so far; but I always knew there would come a knot and a puzzle: here it is.
Blonde Queenie, the most beautiful girl ever to don witches' robes, is standing in a silk slip, supervising the mending of a dress on a dressmaker's dummy. Jacob is thunderstruck.
Quiet is here and all in me. ("Dress of White Silk")
nocturnal purple.
She is silk in a bed of mail-order satin. Complete and seamless, an egg of sexual muscle. My motions atop her are dislocated, frantic, my lone interstice a trans-cultural spice of encouragement I smell with my spine. As, inside it, I go, I cry out to a god whose absence I have never felt to keenly.
She smiled like knife on a velvet, she stretched like cat on the sun.
The woman at the next table is making eyes at you," Lanie said, whispering conspiratorially.
"Really? What does she make them out of? Cloth?
It is the horrible texture of a fabric that should be woven of ships' cables and hawsers. A Polar wind blows through it, and birds of prey hover over it.
I'm a little bit of a fabric lunatic.
Domestic interior design is a fraught affair. It makes me hanker for the mild and soothing and tasteless red velvet interiors in which people lived so undiscriminatingly no more than twenty years ago. It was unhygienic, dark, cool, probably stuffed full of dangerous bacteria, and pleasant.
My Little Pegasus pyjamas, the
She has her gown nicely in place tonight, doesn't she? Black velvet and sparkles, not a thread left hanging. Clever girl, this city. Even the sky is her friend.
O Lord, Sir - when a heroine goes mad she always goes into white satin.
Dear, gentle, patient, noble Nell . . . .
His cloak was his crowning glory; sable, thick and black and soft as sin.
well-worn Victorian settee covered in burgundy sateen,
Sewn together patterns,
like many clashing moods,
She wears what
No others dare
Clara wore a dress of brown and cream velvet, and her feathered mask, in comparison, made her look like a sparrow
Sometimes she wore Levi's with white-suede fringe sewn down the legs and a feathered Indian headdress, sometimes old fifties' taffeta dresses covered with poetry written in glitter, or dresses made of kids' sheets printed with pink piglets or Disney characters.
I love the feel of good quality Italian black lace that feels delicate and really feminine.
Bedazzled? What the heck was a bedazzle?
She's chiffon and satin ribbons. I'm raw meat and razor blades.
When you with velvets mantled o'er, Defy December's tempests frore, Oh! spare one garment from your store, To clothe the poor at Christmas.
ROPE, n. An obsolescent appliance for reminding assassins that they too are mortal. It is put about the neck and remains in place one's whole life long.
Sweetest Echo, sweetest nymph, that liv'st unseen Within thy airy shell, By slow Meander's margent green, And in the violet-embroidered vale.
Beauty! thou pretty plaything! dear deceit, That steals so softly o'er the stripling's heart, And gives it a new pulse unknown before!
Comfortable? I'm fucking cashmere.
Kindness is the velvet of social intercourse.
She drifted, feather-like, in tenuous radiance ...
Her gown, it seemed a thing made out of mist,
As though the dewy air
Had gathered in a cloud about her form
To clothe a shape so fair
That nothing coarser could adorn it than
A layer of atmosphere.
Let me just tell you this: I love polyester.
Early on Monday evening, when the sky was the color of a velvet ribbon falling over the hills.
What is sweeter than lettered ease?
a slow drum muffled in velvet. It's her heart.
She was as inept at causing pain as she was at giving pleasure. Strange lioness, indeed! She thought she possessed claws, but when she tried to bare them, nothing emerged from her magnificent velvet paws. Her scratches were of velvet!
Maybe I could just James Bond my way down the cable if I draped the scarf over it, clinging to the ends as my body careened down it to safety
Careened. What an ugly word that was
Elegant, feminine, and utterly wild. Warm, and steadfast - unbreakable, his queen.
The cool kindliness of sheets, that soon smooth away trouble; and the rough male kiss of blankets.
My fur is silky, damn it.
DeFrees, a dealer in nineteenth-century watercolors who for all her stiff clothes and strong perfumes was a hugger and a cuddler, with the old-ladyish habit of liking
Unthinkable clothing
It's a corset design making me look very, very slim and trim. I call it a corset dress. Very Hollywood glamour with the silk.
Three hundred pages of cotton-soft parchment, bound up with a green ribbon. Her writing gushed in watery ripples over the pages, penmanship that called to mind the maddest intricate Belgian lace. Wrought on a pin's head but stretching for miles if unraveled.
I don't like people," said Velvet. " ... I only like horses.
And even this heart of mine has something artificial. The dancers have sewn it into a bag of pink satin, pink satin slightly faded, like their dancing shoes.
Slattern's robe. Her feet were red at the knuckles
Belt leather. Black pepper. Fine lace and bright feather. Tinker in town tonight, gone tomorrow. Working through the evening light. Come wife. Come daughter, I've small cloth and rose water.
I put on some smooth jazz and change into a smooth silk lungi.
What a richly colored strong warm coat is woven when love is the warp and work is the woof.
Oftwhile balbulous, mithre ahead, with goodly trowel in grasp and ivoroiled overalls which he habitacularly fondseed ...
It was a little blue cotton-knit dress with tiny daisies all over it, and it was tighter than Gran liked and shorter than Jason deemed proper in his sister.
The softness of the summer day like an ermine paw.
There was a lightness to the material that she loved but that also made her feel vulnerable, and she wondered which was more dangerous - the transparency of a fabric or of the soul?
Merry kept talking, but he lost the thread. She wandered closer. With the knots banished, she gripped the tail of the rope in her fist, making an L of her arm and winding the length around her elbow in uniform loops. Rough, rasping rope against that smooth, perfect skin. And Rob on his knees.
I came from rainbow fabric; I drank textile ink as mothers' milk. I learned to sew before I could walk. I could never become a nun, purely because of the boring fashion choices.
That queen of secrecy, the violet.
A pair of brilliantly cut cotton trousers can be more beautiful than a gorgeous silk gown ...
There is a green in the air,
Soft, delectable.
It cushions me lovingly.
I feel best in soft and natural materials such as cotton and silk. I wear collections from all designers. They all have outstanding cuts and extremely pleasant materials.
What furniture can give such finish to a room as a tender woman's face? And is there any harmony of tints that has such stirring of delight as the sweet modulation of her voice?
Damn it, the tiger played velvet paws with me, didn't he?
Steel under silk
She was wearing a gown of lilac pink threaded with silver and stitched with tiny pearls. It was gorgeous in itself, and of course had the perfect new skirt, but it did not flatter her as a cooler shade would have done.
Denim and doubt, cotton and caution, fell to the floor in a forgotten heap
Coat to a seamstress in Vegas who specialized in fabric manipulation for magicians. I thought for certain her topit would
What kind of tartan is this?" he said as he felt the fabric. "McCloud," Betty told him. "Welcome to the clan, son." Excellent, thought Lake. There would be no getting rid of her now.
The cunning livery of hell.
All any girl needs, at any time in history, is simple velvet and basic diamonds.
Whirling of her skirts,
a chequered carpet beneath-
sunset dawns outside.
suburban-cocooned ass