Asylum Lily White Quotes

We're all crazy, Ms. Sutton. Some of us are simply crazier than others. ~ Lily White

Suddenly the dressing-room of La Sorelli, one of the principal dancers, was invaded by half-a-dozen young ladies of the ballet, who had come up from the stage after "dancing" Polyeucte. They rushed in amid great confusion, some giving vent to forced and unnatural laughter, others to cries of terror. Sorelli, who wished to be alone for a moment to "run through" the speech which she was to make to the resigning managers, looked around angrily at the mad and tumultuous crowd. It was little Jammes - the girl with the tip-tilted nose, the forget-me-not eyes, the rose-red cheeks and the lily-white neck and shoulders - who gave the explanation in a trembling voice:

"It's the ghost!" And she locked the door.

- Chapter 1: Is it the Ghost? ~ Gaston Leroux

I need dating advice. Fast."
Ash arched a single brow at that. "I'm useless. I've never been on one."
The three human men turned to gape at him.
"What?" Ash asked them defensively.
Nick started laughing. "Oh man, this is priceless. Don't tell me the great Acheron is a virgin?"
Ash gave him a droll look. "Yeah, Nick. I'm lily-white. ~ Sherrilyn Kenyon

I figured you for a hooker."

Lily blinked at him.

Neither of them moved.

Even Elvis quit singing...

"A hooker?...What a dilemma for you, Detective Ross. Here you are, the quintessential defender against evil--"

"Knock it off, Lily."

"The epitome of all that's good--"

Growling, he said, "You're asking for it."

"A regular White Knight, and you thought the damsel in distress was a soiled dove."...Taking him by surprise, Lily drew up short, pulled him around, and threw herself into his arms. "You're precious, Parker, you really are."

-Lily and Parker ~ Lori Foster

In her right hand the lily, in her left
The letter--all her bright hair streaming down--
And all the coverlid was cloth of gold
Drawn to her waist, and she herself in white
All but her face, and that clear-featured face
Was lovely, for she did not seem as dead,
But fast asleep, and lay as though she smiled. ~ Alfred Tennyson

The modest Rose puts forth a Thorn.
The humble Sheep a threat'ning Horn.
While the Lily white shall in love delight.
Nor a Thorn nor a threat stain her beauty bright. ~ William Blake

There has fallen a splendid tear
From the passion-flower at the gate.
She is coming, my dove, my dear;
She is coming, my life, my fate;
The red rose cries, "She is near, she is near;"
And the white rose weeps, "She is late;"
The larkspur listens, "I hear; I hear;"
And the lily whispers, "I wait." ~ Alfred Lord Tennyson

Nature seemed to have adorned herself for our departure with a profusion of fringes and curls, mingled with the bright tints of flowers, reflected in the water. But we missed the white water-lily, which is the queen of river flowers, its reign being over for this season ... Many of this species inhabit our Concord water. ~ Henry David Thoreau

The girls that are wanted are good girls
Good from the heart to the lips
Pure as the lily is white and pure
From its heart to its sweet leaf tips

The girls that are wanted are girls with hearts
They are wanted for mothers and wives
Wanted to cradle in loving arms
The strongest and frailest of lives.

The clever, the witty, the brilliant girl
There are few who can understand
But, oh! For the wise, loving home girls
There's a constant, steady demand. ~ J.H.Gray

Gee, I wasn't as up on my Native American traditions as the chick who used to call herself Faun fucking Windsong even though she was fifteen sixteenths as lily-white as me. Imagine that. ~ Jordan Castillo Price

I was more statistical than that, a daddy's
girl who expected to marry a man that was tall and strong, smart and put together, someone who could carry me though life one handed
while solving every problem tossed in our path. I wanted a hero to help me through the tough times, so I never bothered exploring whether I could be a hero myself. ~ Lily White

Noah was a funeral pyre. He was burning. The flames rose to staggering heights and blazed in white, hot tongues. Jeremie had once told him a story of the burial rites of the Norse. They'd burn their dead, believing the high smoke carried their loved ones' souls to Valhalla.

Noah was beyond Valhalla. Beyond the creamy spaciousness above the clouds, beyond the limits of the very earth. He floated among the stars, joined them in holy communion, knew each one by name. Then they were within him, scores of them, bright and hot, turning his ribs into a furnace as they shifted and created constellations in his soul. And all the while, the summer sang in his lungs.

There was no space between him and Jeremie. Where one ended, the other began, and still Jeremie pulled him closer like the moon pulls the tide, gripping him tightly in the same way he'd gripped Noah's heart, had gripped his entire being. ~ Lily Velez

A red rose peeping through a white? Or else a cherry (double graced) Within a lily? Centre placed? Or ever marked the pretty beam, A strawberry shows, half drowned in cream? Or seen rich rubies blushing through A pure smooth pearl, and orient too? So like to this, nay all the rest, Is each neat niplet of her breast. ~ Ovid

After her three-second celebratory dance on center court at the All England Club, the American media reported, And there was Serena ... Crip-Walking all over the most lily-white place in the world ... . You couldn't help but shake your head ... . What Serena did was akin to cracking a tasteless, X-rated joke inside a church ... . What she did was immature and classless. ~ Claudia Rankine

Nuit Blanche"

A music coaxed from humming strings would please;
Not plucked, but drawn in creeping cadences
Across a sunset wall where some Marquise
Picks a pale rose amid strange silences.


Ghostly and vaporous her gown sweeps by
The twilight dusking wall, I hear her feet
Delaying on the gravel, and a sigh,
Briefly permitted, touches the air like sleet


And it is dark, I hear her feet no more.
A red moon leers beyond the lily-tank.
A drunken moon ogling a sycamore,
Running long fingers down its shining flank.


A lurching moon, as nimble as a clown,
Cuddling the flowers and trees which burn like glass.
Red, kissing lips, I feel you on my gown -
Kiss me, red lips, and then pass - pass.


Music, you are pitiless to-night.
And I so old, so cold, so languorously white. ~ Amy Lowell

I jus luvs me some lily white turkey
meats".

~R. Alan Woods [2012] ~ R. Alan Woods

That's what a man is supposed to do for his wife. Listen, if a nigger didn't get lynched every now and then, well, there's just no telling what they'd do to us."
"Who?" Lily asked.
"Why, honey, the niggers and our husbands both. I don't care what color they are; men build up steam. And they gotta let it out somewhere. Colored men. White men. They both crazy. Honey, the point is you gotta look at it this way: A whole lotta women can't, "I got a man who'll kill for me." ~ Bebe Moore Campbell

The ladies of St. James's! They're painted to the eyes; Their white is stays for ever, Their red it never dies; But Phyllida, my Phillida! Her colour comes and goes; It trembles to a lily,
It wavers to a rose. ~ Henry Austin Dobson

Even though this duel has broken no rules, it's not ben clean," she said. "You began a brawl. Society will murmur its disapproval even before Ronan and Jess destroy your reputation."
"Society will disapprove of me?" Irex sneered. "Your reputation is not so lily white. Slave-lover."
Kestrel wobbled on her feet. It took her a moment to speak, and when she did, she wasn't sure that what she said was true. "Whatever people say about me, my father will be your enemy."
Irex's face was still sharp with hate, but he said, "Very well. You can live." His voice became hesitant. "Did you tell the general about Faris?"
Kestrel thought of her letter to her father. It had been simple. I have challenged Lord Irex to a duel, it had said. It will take place on his grounds today, two hours before sunset. Please come. "No. That would have defeated my purpose."
Irex gave Kestrel a look, one that she had seen before on the faces of her opponents in Bite and Sting. "Purpose?" he said warily.
Kestrel felt triumph surge through her, stronger even than the pain in her knee. "I want my father to believe that I've legitimately won this duel. You are about to lose. You'll throw the match, and give me a clear victory." She smiled. "I want first blood, Irex. My father is watching. Make this look good. ~ Marie Rutkoski

And at last, in the evening, one after another the sounds die out, and the harmony falters, and silence falls. With the sunset sharpness was lost and, like mist rising, quiet rose, quiet spread, the wind settled; loosely the world shook itself down to sleep, darkly here without a light to it, save what came green suffused through leaves, or pale on the white flowers by the window. [Lily ~ Virginia Woolf

So that you don't forget the world isn't black or white," he said. "It's grey and someone tells you otherwise, they're lying". ~ Chloe Neill

Yeah," I said. "I think you're jealous."
"Of what?"
"That I can pass and you can't."
He opened his mouth and emotions flowed over his face like water; anger, humor, denial. He finally settled on a smile, but it wasn't a happy one. "You really are a bitch, aren't you?"
I nodded. "You don't pull on my chain and I won't pull on yours."
"Deal," he said. The smile flashed wider. "Now, allow me to escort your lily white ass to the dining room."
I shook my head. "Lead on, tall, dark, and studly, as long as I get to watch your ass while we walk down the hall."
"Only if you promise to tell me how you like the view."
I widened my eyes. "You mean give you a critique on your butt?"
He nodded and the smile looked happy now.
"Are you this big an egotist or just trying to embarrass me?"
"Guess."
"Both," I said.
The smile spread to a grin. "You are as smart as you look. ~ Laurell K. Hamilton

Lily Chadwick knew there was something different about the fiercely scowling gentleman the first moment she saw him.
She could feel it.
The instant their gazes met, caught, held, something skittered across her skin like a rain of white sparks. It entered her bloodstream, heating her from the inside until her breath became stilted and her knees went alarmingly weak.
He stared at her from beneath a brow drawn low in a forbidding expression. His eyes were so dark, even the light of the glittering ballroom could not be reflected there. The angles of his face were hard, his jaw sharply defined, and he held his mouth in a harsh line that attempted to harden the full curve of his lower lip but didn't quite manage it.
Lily tried to glance away demurely, but she couldn't seem to manage. She felt a flutter that became a tightening in her belly. Her heart stopped, skipped a few beats, then started up again in a frantic rhythm as he just kept watching her.
Despite his severe, aloof appearance, something about him reached out to her, touching her with an intrinsic sort of recognition. It left her feeling as though she stood in the heart of a firestorm. She sensed with a certainty beyond rational explanation that his unyielding manner was a facade, as if he were a hero in some gothic novel. There was passion in him. She felt it in every quickened, prey-like breath she took while frozen under his intent stare.
The silent interaction between them was becoming mo ~ Amy Sandas

For she is a fair maiden, fairest lady of a house of queens. And yet I know not how I should speak of her. When I first looked on her and perceived her unhappiness, it seemed to me that I saw a white flower standing straight and proud, shapely as a lily, and yet knew that it was hard, as if wrought by elf-wrights out of steel. Or was it, maybe, a frost that had turned its sap to ice, and so it stood, bitter-sweet, still fair to see, but stricken, soon to fall and die?
- Aragorn about Éowyn ~ J.R.R. Tolkien

(Lily and Rule discussing wedding plans ... )
"You want to get married by Carl?"
"Your father's cook?"
"Yes, and I've been wanting to talk about the doves."
"Doves." Her eyes widened in horror. "My mother wanted doves."
"Perhaps she had a point. Wouldn't it look splendid, releasing a few dozen white doves all at once to carry our message of hope and love up to
"
"Your are so full of shit." But she started laughing. "Doves, sure. Our guests would love some flying hors d'oeuvres. Maybe we should have some cute little bunnies for them to chase after the ceremony instead of cake, sending our message of fuzzy, yummy love to flesh eaters everywhre. ~ Eileen Wilks

Ranulf stared blankly into the campfire, trying to ignore Lily.
"White horses always look dirty," Lily told the young smitten soldier sitting beside her. "That's why I refuse to ride them.Brown ones may be just as filthy,but at least I cannot see the dirt. Black ones less so,but I have found that in general dark horses suit me better."
"You just think you look better on them," Edythe protested before succumbing to several seconds of coughing.
Bronwyn studied her redheaded sister for a moment.Tyr put another blanket around Edythe's shoulders and eventually the coughs quieted. Turning her attention to Ranulf,Bronwyn promised him softly, "You'll have to ignore them."
Ranulf grimaced and sent a reproving look to his youngest sister-in-law. It,just like the others he had sent Lily throughout the day,changed nothing. "I just find it hard to reconcile the child I hear now with the woman who appeared after your death. With you gone,she had to grow up.Now that you are back..."
Bronwyn snuggled up against his side with a sigh. "I admit I encourage it.Life will force Lily to grow up soon enough and I am glad it was not my death that thrust it upon her. In the meantime,you ignore her prattle and I'll just be amused it," she advised before planting a gentle kiss on his arm.
Ranulf,with his free hand, raked his fingers through his short hair. How had he gotten into this predicament? But it took only one look at the huddled form next to him to remember exactly ~ Michele Sinclair

Snow White has always been one of my favorite fairy tales growing up. To be able to say, "I'm going to be Snow White" - it's crazy. It's an honor. ~ Lily Collins

Because it has lived its life intensely
the parched grass still attracts the gaze of passers-by.
The flowers merely flower,
and they do this as well as they can.
The white lily, blooming unseen in the valley,
Does not need to explain itself to anyone;
It lives merely for beauty.
Man, however, cannot accept that 'merely'.

If tomatoes wanted to be melons,
they would look completely ridiculous.
I am always amazed
that so many people are concerned
with wanting to be what they are not;
what's the point of making yourself look ridicuolous?

You don't always have to pretend to be strong,
there's no need to prove all the time that everything is going well,
you shouldn't be concerned about what other people are thinking,
cry if you need to,
it's good to cry out all your tears
(because only then will you be able to smile again). ~ Mitsuo Aida

Dodie could often be seen at the club, clutching a white terry-cloth towel in one hand, her cigarette holder in the other, as she pedaled away on one of the club's stationary bikes. ~ Lily Koppel

Nay, 'twill be this hour ere I have done weeping. All the kind of the Launces have this very fault. I have received my proportion, like the prodigious son, and am going with Sir Proteus to the Imperial's court. I think Crab, my dog, be the sourest-natured dog that lives. My mother weeping, my father wailing, my sister crying, our maid howling, our cat wringing her hands, and all our house in a great perplexity, yet did not this cruel-hearted cur shed one tear. He is a stone, a very pebble stone, and has no more pity in him than a dog. A Jew would have wept to have seen our parting. Why, my grandam, having no eyes, look you, wept herself blind at my parting. Nay, I'll show you the manner of it. This shoe is my father. No, this left shoe is my father. No, no, this left shoe is my mother. Nay, that cannot be so neither. Yes, it is so, it is so -- it hath the worser sole. This shoe with the hole in it is my mother, and this my father. A vengeance on't! There 'tis. Now, sir, this staff is my sister, for, look you, she is as white as a lily and as small as a wand. This hat is Nan, our maid. I am the dog. No, the dog is himself, and I am the dog -- O, the dog is me, and I am myself. Ay, so, so. Now come I to my father: 'Father, your blessing.' Now should not the shoe speak a word for weeping. Now should I kiss my father -- well, he weeps on. Now come I to my mother. O, that she could speak now like a wood woman! Well, I kiss her -- why, there 'tis: here's my mother's breath up and d ~ William Shakespeare

I capture women. I break them down. And I rebuild them. And I am not a good man. ~ Lily White

The lily is all in white, like a saint, And so is no mate for me. ~ Thomas Hood

Bella had been formed out of the rib of Lily's guilt to be its opposite, and to counter more sinister voices whose clamour would have driven Lily to an asylum. Instead, with Bella's help, she had taken control of her madness. Imagining a Bella who in every way was better than her, by aspiring to her kindness Lily became able to be kinder to herself, and slowly relearn how to live. Sharing Bella's yearning for knowledge and a deeper understanding of the world, she had never lost sight of the stars. ~ Panayotis Cacoyannis

I remember, I remember
The roses, red and white,
The violets, and the lily-cups,
Those flowers made of light!
The lilacs, where the robin built,
And where my brother set
The laburmum on his birthday,-
The tree is living yet. ~ Thomas Hood

The initiate, a boy of no more than twelve, was wailing and a group of older boys were holding him down on a log while a few men cut into him, making hundreds of small slits on his back and shoulders. They dropped a citrus mixture into each wound so that the skin would puff up and the scars would be raised and textured to look like crocodile skin. His blood had soaked the log in dark striations. When they were done they painted him with oil and turmeric and smeared him with white clay and carried him off weeping and half conscious into seclusion until he healed. Fen and I walked down to the beach. I'd seen dozens ~ Lily King

A butterfly fluttered from flower to flower in the old garden, gracing the silvery-blue tips of the crocuses and what remained of the icy-white petals of the lady's prized tulips. The yellow strands on the butterfly's wings shimmered in the fading light, and Libby watched the creature in its journey, mesmerized by the graceful rise and fall of its dance.
Her arms outstretched, Libby twirled around like she had as a girl, embracing the last rays of sunlight. Here in this garden, she was as free as the butterfly. Here she didn't have to hide.
The butterfly climbed above the flowers and soared toward the lily pond. Beyond the pond were more flowers, hundreds of them, and then the trees.
Soon the butterfly would curl up under a rock or leaf and rest for the night, hiding in the darkness, alone and vulnerable until the sun powered her wings again at dawn.
Libby trailed the creature around the pond to see where it would land. If the night stayed warm, she might curl up beside the butterfly to rest, but not now. She no longer had to hide in these gardens.
Soon the moonlight would glaze the paths with gold, and she would explore for hours, enveloped in the shadows and the light. ~ Melanie Dobson

Who will you be when faced with the end?
The end of a kingdom,
The end of good men,
Will you run?
Will you hide?
Or will you hunt down evil with a venomous pride?

Rise to the ashes,
Rise to the winter sky,
Rise to the calling,
Make heard the battle cry.
Let it scream from the mountains
From the forest to the chapel,
Because death is a hungry mouth
And you are the apple.

So who will you be when faced with the end?
When the vultures are circling
And the shadows descend
Will you cower?
Or will you fight?
Is your heart made of glass?
Or a pure Snow White? ~ Lily Blake

The first Disney movie I saw I think was 'Snow White.' I loved all the Disney princess movies. ~ Lily James

I

On the calm black water where the stars are sleeping
White Ophelia floats like a great lily;
Floats very slowly, lying in her long veils...
- In the far-off woods you can hear them sound the mort.

For more than a thousand years sad Ophelia
Has passed, a white phantom, down the long black river.
For more than a thousand years her sweet madness
Has murmured its ballad to the evening breeze.

The wind kisses her breasts and unfolds in a wreath
Her great veils rising and falling with the waters;
The shivering willows weep on her shoulder,
The rushes lean over her wide, dreaming brow.

The ruffled water-lilies are sighing around her;
At times she rouses, in a slumbering alder,
Some nest from which escapes a small rustle of wings;
- A mysterious anthem falls from the golden stars.

II

O pale Ophelia! beautiful as snow!
Yes child, you died, carried off by a river!
- It was the winds descending from the great mountains of Norway
That spoke to you in low voices of better freedom.

It was a breath of wind, that, twisting your great hair,
Brought strange rumors to your dreaming mind;
It was your heart listening to the song of Nature
In the groans of the tree and the sighs of the nights;

It was the voice of mad seas, the great roar,
That shattered your child's heart, too human and too soft;
It was a hands ~ Arthur Rimbaud

I was being thrown to the wolves. Even though I did something great, nobody wanted to be a part of it. I was so isolated. I couldn't share it. For many years, even after Jackie Robinson, baseball was so segregated, really. You just didn't expect us to have a chance to do anything. Baseball was meant for the lily-white. ~ Hank Aaron

The lily I condemned for thy hand, And buds of marjoram had stol'n thy hair: The roses fearfully on thorns did stand, One blushing shame, another white despair; A third, nor red nor white, had stol'n of both And to his robbery had annex'd thy breath; But, for his theft, in pride of all his growth A vengeful canker eat him up to death. More flowers I noted, yet I none could see But sweet or colour it had stol'n from thee. ~ William Shakespeare

Why should I reward his dirty tricks with my lily-white hand? ~ Louis Auchincloss

But you, cloudless girl, question of smoke, corn tassel.
You were what the wind was making with illuminated leaves.
Behind the nocturnal mountains, white lily of conflagration,
ah, I can say nothing! You were made of everything. ~ Pablo Neruda

What street is this?
Mandelstam Street.
What a crooked name!
No matter how you twist it,
It doesn't come out straight.

Nothing in him was stuck on right,
His morals sure weren't lily white,
Which is why this street
Or, better yet, this slum
Is called, correctly,
Mandelstam. ~ Osip Mandelstam

We had planned to spend Christmas morning with my family, and then head over to Phil and Kay's for Christmas night. The whole family was there, including all the grandkids. Bella, Willie and Korie's daughter, was the youngest and still an infant. We opened presents, ate dinner, and the whole evening felt surreal. Tomorrow morning I'll have a baby in this world, I thought. When Jep and I left that night, I said, "I'm gonna go have a baby. See you all later!"
For all the worry and concern and tears and prayers we'd spent on our unborn baby, when it came to her birth, she was no trouble at all. I went to the hospital, got prepped for the C-section, and within thirty minutes she was out. Lily was beautiful and healthy. I was overwhelmed with happiness and joy. I felt God had blessed me. He'd created life inside of me--a real, beautiful, breathing little human being--and brought her into this world through me. It was an unbelievable miracle. And the best part? Jep was in the delivery room. Unlike his dad, he wanted to be there, and he shared it all with me.
I'll never forget the sight of Jep decked out in blue scrubs, with the blue head cover, holding his baby girl for the first time. I'll never forget how she nestled down in the crook of his arm, his hand wrapped up and around, gently holding her. He stared down at her, and I could see a smile behind his white surgical mask. He was already in love--I knew that look.
After we admired the baby together, I fell aslee ~ Jessica Robertson