Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Velvette. 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 Velvette Quotes And Sayings by 96 Authors including Lauren Kate,Robin Benway,Jane Austen,James Leonard Gordon,Ethan Somerville for you to enjoy and share.
She was luminous. Her red hair had been braided a dozen ways, all swirled together in a high shaggy twist. Her eyelids were shimmering green, her lips crimson and matte. She wore black vintage ankle-high motorcycle boots. She was lethal.
Can you pass me the slutty one, please?" I handed her the bottle of bright-red nail polish. "I think it's actually called Crimson Cabaret," I said. "Don't be a slut-shamer.
No lace. No lace, Mrs. Bennett, I beg you!
Kindness is the velvet of social intercourse.
coat that she always
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.
Dear, gentle, patient, noble Nell . . . .
That makes me think of spandex-covered football players. It's not me. I'm in rhinestones and velvet, not spandex.
Her lips were like the soft beauty of a delicately designed silken scarf.
She smiled like knife on a velvet, she stretched like cat on the sun.
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
She was the kind of girl who wore dark lipstick and didn't need to speak a word to seduce you.
Fire-breathing bitch-queen.
She tangled her words
like matted fishing lines
Tangle me up like Grandma's yarn,
Elegantly yet beastly, caring yet deadly, she comes down to me.
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.
Blonde tangles flying everywhere and her diamond-laden hand wrapped around Jess's strong, bare torso. She looked happy and so did Jess.-From Siddy Creek
Bedazzled? What the heck was a bedazzle?
Does Raggedy Ann have a cotton crotch?
Bohemian - a respectable sort of tramp.
I'm really a pussycat - with an iron tail.
It's not lace, is it?
Her skin is softer than a lamb's. What does she put on herself? Unicorn tears? Jesus Christ.
Irish lace, hanging in the windows, filters the afternoon light, softening the lines on her face.
All any girl needs, at any time in history, is simple velvet and basic diamonds.
Groaning, he gripped his fists in the wild stuff. "Contessa.God, Contessa."
She straightened, changing the angle, changing the pleasure. She shook her hair back and undulated. She was a contessa.A princess.No,a queen.
What is sweeter than lettered ease?
It was black-black, so thick it drank two containers of relaxer at the salon, so full it took hours under the hooded dryer, and, when finally released from pink plastic rollers, sprang free and full, flowing down her back like a celebration. Her father called it a crown of glory.
My fur is silky, damn it.
Soft and sun-warm, see her glide
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.
Her given name was Lucinda but she'd called herself Juveline since age fifteen, when she'd been caught selling knockoff Burberry totes and a cop at the booking desk misspelled the word "juvenile." Big
ORANGE MARMALADE',
a heavy, hooded wool
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.
Leather and lace is such a sexy combination.
(Who Did No Harm to No Man all the Dais of Her Life. Reader, Can You Say Lykewise?).
He hymns the rotten queen with saffron hair
Who has saltier aphrodisiacs
Than virgins' tears. That bawdy queen of death,
Her wormy couriers are at his bones.
Still he hymns juice of her, hot nectarine.
Satin and lace and brown velvet and the faint odor of violets. That was all which was left to him of his love.
Where's the lace?Lace-- Nalini Singh
Damn it, the tiger played velvet paws with me, didn't he?
She wears life like Elvis wore sequins, with no apology laced into the seams.
silver jubilee. He
I like the way the word feels against my mouth - soft, unassuming, even soothing.
a furtive groove
Myrtle Elizabeth Warren - a pretty name - my name - no need for the moaning. SCORPIUS:
When I took my clothes off in Blue Velvet, I wanted to convey the brutality of sex abuse. I wanted to look like a quartered cow hanging in a butcher shop as well as disturbingly appealing.
Hi, I'm Britney. I'm not wearing any socks...and I have the panties to match...What's your name?
am Slinklebert Petrovius Mordechai Smythe, but everyone calls me Slinky, mainly because nobody can ever figure out how to say my name properly.
Shirley! Don't call me Shirley!
Mouseburger: unpretty, unspecial, unformed.
a bronze lustre; pearls were twisted round her wrists
She's remarkably refined." "You told me she slung Miss Birmingham over her shoulder and tossed her into a carriage.
There is no sound more feminine than a woman in a taffeta dress.
a slow drum muffled in velvet. It's her heart.
The balm of life, a kind and faithful friend.
Her dress is the colour of marmalade, she chirps songs that have no words
Are you rage, wrapped in skin, tight like leather dried in the desert sun?
From: "The Comfort of Black
I am a thing made of lace and blood. Swathed in silk and dripping with the dark deeds of men.
Fall the deep curtains,
delicate the weave,
fair the thread.
Dipped in chocolate, bronzed in elegance, enameled with grace, toasted with beauty. My lord, she's a black woman.
louche, wearing a gauzy neck scarf and
Dark and stately is the warm, graceful tenderness of the Sarabande
pickled in formaldehyde and painted like a whore, / Shrimp-pink incorruptible, not lost or gone before.
Silver and ermine and red faces full of port wine.
All the rare and royal names
Wormy sheepskin yet retains
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.
Her outfit must have penetrated his unconscious. She wore a shirt of softly fringed suede that clung to her breasts like an unforgiven sin.
Purple as tulips in May, mauve into lush velvet, purple as the stain blackberries leave on the lips, on the hands, the purple of ripe grapes sunlit and warm as flesh ...
Tatiana is a ridiculously curvy thing of dreams, with smooth succulent thighs, long strawberry blond cascading beneath a teal bandana, and a nympho sparkle in her eyes that says pick me, lick me, spank me, or I punish you. Raw innocence and mayhem at once.
Ladies who were no better than they should be, whose dresses were too tight, too bright and too all the things Magnus liked most, lounged on velvet-covered benches along the walls.
lush and flagitious mistresses. It
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.
jessamine. Flowering
thin and elegant as a mantis
Lilac Rose LaRoux. Untouchable. Toxic. I should've been named Ivy, or Foxglove, or Belladonna.
Madeline Hatter. Her lavender-streaked teal hair exploded around her in messy curls. The polka-dotted, striped, and lacy layers of her skirt were bunched and fluffed. Her teacup hat tilted low over one ear. "Whoops,
Yossarian!!!(?)!
Mandy (lentil eating, lesbian, long socks) in PR
Marjoram ... Blushes.
Deep violets, you liken to The kindest eyes that look on you, Without a thought disloyal.
She's wearing a tight red sweater and a red skirt and enough makeup to scare a hooker.
She was dressed in the softest grape blue, a gentle color neither navy nor purple, nor yet silver. It was subtle, expensive and extremely flattering.
She wore leopard-skin leggings, a tight black turtleneck sweater and sparkly red heels. I don't make this stuff up.
You been going through my undies?" I asked. Bruiser's mouth twitched. " 'Cause all I got with me are the travel undies. The leather, silk, and lace stuff is all in the mountains."
"You got leather undies?" Bruiser asked, intrigued. [ ... ]
I smiled, showing teeth. "Nope.
A miscreant with coiffed, scented hair, a slender waist, the hips of a woman and the chest of a Prussian officer, with a finely tied cravat, by all girls admired. ~ [introduction of character Montparnasse]
She was what an aristocrat should be, porcelain and silk, unreachable, gracious, untainted by the dust of all this common death.
LINEN, n. "A kind of cloth the making of which, when made of hemp, entails a great waste of hemp."
The bright bite in Mary Lee Kortes' voice [has] the high-mountain sunshine of Dolly Parton, with a sweet-iron undercoat of Chrissie Hynde.
I still love red velvet cake.
SkyClan or cream,
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.
...Not an elegant tapestry but a serviceable quilt.
Hey, yummy leather guy? Can you hear me? (Amanda)
Every seam, every lace, every bead has been painstakingly, with love, corrected, perfected and mastered,
If you have sex with me, Bridgette, you're the one in danger of becoming clingy. You'll want so much more of me, I won't be able to tell the difference between you and Saran Wrap.
Logan McCade. Paging Logan 'Pantyripper' McCade. Please return to your conference call.
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.
She picked a sorrel mare with four white socks named Scarlett. Levi wasn't about to ride his favorite stallion, Rhett - Tamara would read too much into that - so he saddled Ashley, the one gelding in the stables, instead. You