Prim Quotes

Hailey Dashford Reid, with her silky brown hair and big, smoky blue eyes, all prim and proper and so fucking sexy it makes my nuts ache. Also, totally off-limits. ~ Ainsley Booth

I'll keep the girl out of trouble," Gray said, in what seemed to him a rather magnanimous gesture. "I'll watch out for her."
"Oh, I've no doubt you will. But who's going to watch out for you?"
Gray's nerves prickled. So, it wasn't the girl Joss was concerned about. No, he expected Gray to cock it all up.
"Right, Joss. I'm an unprincipled, lecherous bastard." He paused, waiting for his brother to argue otherwise.
He didn't.
Gray protested. "She's a governess, for the love of gold. Prim, proper, starched, dull." Soft, he thought in counterpoint. Delicate, sweet. Intriguing.
"Ah. So you'll dally with any chambermaid or serving wench who'll lift her skirts, but you'd draw the line at seducing a governess?"
"Yes. Have a look at me, man." Gray smoothed his brushed velvet lapel, then gestured upward at the banners trimming the freshly tarred rigging. "Look at this ship. I'm telling you, my libertine days are over. I've gone respectable."
"It's easy to change your coat. It's a great deal harder to change your ways. ~ Tessa Dare

Street law dictated that for a parley of this kind each lieutenant be seconded by two of his foot soldiers and that they all be unarmed. Parley. The word felt like a deception - strangely prim, an antique. No matter what street law decreed, this night smelled like violence. ~ Leigh Bardugo

I'm relieved Peeta's alive. I tell myself again that if I get killed, his winnings will benefit my mother and Prim the most. This is what I tell myself to explain the conflicting emotions that arise when I think of Peeta. The gratitude that he game an edge by professing his love for me in the interview. The anger at his superiority on the roof. The dread that we may come face-to-face at any moment in this arena. ~ Suzanne Collins

Almost all of my early art dealt with the fallout from middle-class taboos, the messy, the ambivalent emotions couples felt, the inherent racism, the sexual tensions and the unhappiness roiling below the surface of our prim suburban lives. Meanwhile I was a suburban bad boy - cynical, sarcastic, contemptuous of all authority. ~ Eric Fischl

It's like being home again, when they bring in the hopelessly mangled person from the mine explosion, or the woman in her third day of labor, or the famished child struggling against pneumonia and my mother and Prim, they wear that same look on their faces. Now is the times to run away tho the woods, to hide in the trees until the patient is long gone and in another part of the Seam the hammers make the coffin. But I'm held here both by the hovercraft walls and the same force that holds the loved ones of the dying. How often I've seen them, ringed around our kitchen table and I thought, Why don't they leave? Why do they stay to watch?
And now I know. It's because you have no choice. ~ Suzanne Collins

Prim and proper white women, I like what I see. ~ Guy Madison

I reviewed in thought the modern era of raps and apparitions, beginning with the knockings of 1848, at the hamlet of Hydesville, N.Y., and ending with grotesque phenomena at Cambridge, Mass.; I evoked the anklebones and other anatomical castanets of the Fox sisters (as described by the sages of the University of Buffalo ); the mysteriously uniform type of delicate adolescent in bleak Epworth or Tedworth, radiating the same disturbances as in old Peru; solemn Victorian orgies with roses falling and accordions floating to the strains of sacred music; professional imposters regurgitating moist cheesecloth; Mr. Duncan, a lady medium's dignified husband, who, when asked if he would submit to a search, excused himself on the ground of soiled underwear; old Alfred Russel Wallace, the naive naturalist, refusing to believe that the white form with bare feet and unperforated earlobes before him, at a private pandemonium in Boston, could be prim Miss Cook whom he had just seen asleep, in her curtained corner, all dressed in black, wearing laced-up boots and earrings; two other investigators, small, puny, but reasonably intelligent and active men, closely clinging with arms and legs about Eusapia, a large, plump elderly female reeking of garlic, who still managed to fool them; and the skeptical and embarrassed magician, instructed by charming young Margery's "control" not to get lost in the bathrobe's lining but to follow up the left stocking until he reached the bare thigh - upon the wa ~ Vladimir Nabokov

I protect Prim in every way I can, but I'm powerless against the reaping. ~ Suzanne Collins

Maggie Botwin.

Prim, quiet lady, like an upright piano, seeming taller than she was because of the way she sat, rose and walked, and the way she held her hands in her lap and the way she coifed her hair up on top of her head, in some fashion out of World War I.

I had once heard her on a radio show describe herself as a snake charmer.

All that film whistling through her hands, sliding through her fingers, undulant and swift.

All that time passing, but to pass and repass again.

It was no different, she said, than life itself.

The future rushed at you. You had a single instant, as it flashed by, to change it into an amiable, recognizable, and decent past. Instant by instant, tomorrow blinked in your grasp. If you did not seize without holding, shape without breaking, that continuity of moments, you left nothing behind. Your object, her object, all of our objects, was to mold and print ourselves on those single fits of future that, in the touching, aged into swiftly into vanishing yesterdays. ~ Ray Bradbury

I vote yes....for Prim. ~ Suzanne Collins

As novices, Carthusians are taught to turn around and close doors without pushing them or letting them swing shut. Do you know why?
Miss Prim replied that she had no idea.
So that they learn not to rush, to do one thing after another. So as to train them in restraint, patience, silence, and mindfulness in every gesture. ~ Natalia Sanmartin Fenollera

There is San Diego - this retirement village, with its prim petticoat, that doesn't want to get too near the water. San Diego worries about all the turds washing up on the lovely, pristine beaches of La Jolla. San Diego wishes Mexico would have fewer babies. And San Diego, like the rest of America, is growing middle-aged. ~ Richard Rodriguez

How did we go from tea to death so quickly?" wondered Quesnel. "Sometimes," said Prim darkly, "there is a very fine line between the two." "There's ~ Gail Carriger

As for what I might wear, my mantra is that, no matter how chic the event, I don't want to look too prim. I like wearing short cocktail frocks to black-tie events; it just always feels more like me, and a bright red lip is always a staple. ~ Elisabeth Von Thurn Und Taxis

He saw a square room furnished as a library. The entire section of the walls which he could spy was covered from floor to ceiling with books. There were volumes of every size, every shape, every colour. There were long, narrow books that held themselves like grenadiers at stiff attention. There were short, fat books that stood solidly like aldermen who were going to make speeches and were ashamed but not frightened. There were mediocre books bearing themselves with the carelessness of folk who are never looked at and have consequently no shyness. There were solemn books that seemed to be feeling for their spectacles; and there were tattered, important books that had got dirty because they took snuff, and were tattered because they had been crossed in love and had never married afterwards. There were prim, ancient tomes that were certainly ashamed of their heroines and utterly unable to obtain a divorce from the hussies; and there were lean, rakish volumes that leaned carelessly, or perhaps it was with studied elegance, against their neighbours, murmuring in affected tones, "All heroines are charming to us. ~ James Stephens

If you don't attend, Gwendolen," said the mistress, "and stop looking out of the window, I shall have to give you an order-mark."
"But please, Miss Prizzle-" began Gwendolen.
"Did you hear what I said, Gwendolen?" asked Miss Prizzle.
"But please, Miss Prizzle," said Gwendolen, "there's a LION!"
"Take two order-marks for talking nonsense," said Miss Prizzle. "And now-" A roar interrupted her. Ivy came curling in at the windows of the classroom. The walls became a mass of shimmering green, and leafy branches arched overhead where the ceiling had been. Miss Prizzle found she was standing on grass in a forest glade. She clutched at her desk to steady herself, and found that the desk was a rose-bush. Wild people such as she had never even imagined were crowding round her. Then she saw the Lion, screamed and fled, and with her fled her class, who were mostly dumpy, prim little girls with fat legs. Gwendolen hesitated.
"You'll stay with us, sweetheart?" said Aslan.
"Oh, may I? Thank you, thank you," said Gwendolen. Instantly she joined hands with two of the Maenads, who whirled her round in a merry dance and helped her take off some of the unnecessary and uncomfortable clothes that she was wearing. ~ C.S. Lewis

Ah, to be young and agile again,' said Primrose.
'We were never that young,' replied Rue.
'More to the point, we were never that agile,' said Prim with a soft smile. ~ Gail Carriger

The flowers were opulent, full-blown, topple shower petals at a touch. He thought that she might topple that way, falling all at once into his hand, a soft drift of blossom between his fingers. The roses bowed their extravagant heads, nodding, but she was all stiff prim and black, back in her bonnet, so that he could not see her face unless she looked directly at him. ~ Laura Kinsale

Holy shit. I forgot to ask you what you do. You are seriously a librarian? You aren't fucking with me?" She made a face. "Yes, I'm really a librarian, MLS degree and all." "Hot damn." He pictured her behind a desk, dressed all prim and proper; her hair bound up in a little bun, black-framed glasses perched on her nose. "Remind me later to have you dress up and ask me about my overdue books. ~ Cynthia Rayne

Then I know Prim is right, that Snow cannot afford to waste Peeta's life, especially now, while the Mockingjay causes so much havoc. He's killed Cinna already. Destroyed my home. My family, Gale, and even Haymitch are out of his reach. Peeta's all he has left.
"So, what do you think they'll do to him?" I ask.
Prim sound about a thousand years old when she speaks."Whatever it takes to break you. ~ Suzanne Collins

Child of woe is wane and delicate ... sensitive and on the quiet side, she loves the picnics and outings to the underground caverns ... a solemn child, prim in dress and, on the whole, pretty lost ... secretive and imaginative, poetic, seems underprivileged and given to occasional tantrums ... has six toes on one foot ... ~ Charles Addams

When Jo's conservative sister Meg says she must turn up her hair now that she is a "young lady," Jo shouts, "I'm not! and if turning up my hair makes me one, I'll wear it in two tails till I'm twenty ... I hate to think I've got to grow up, and be Miss March, and wear long gowns, and look as prim as a China aster! It's bad enough to be a girl anyway, when I like boys' games and work and manners! I can't get over my disappointment in not being a boy; and it's worse than ever now, for I'm dying to go and fight with Papa, and I can only stay at home and knit, like a poky old woman. ~ Louisa May Alcott

Damn, she's good."
"Of course she bloody is," Pearl murmured, her ace still stuffed against Jack's neck, even though she sounded like the prim English woman she was, her tone turning curt. "She's my mother. ~ Scarlett Dawn

The parrot holds its food for prim consumption as daintily as any debutante, [with] a predilection for pot roast, hashed-brown potatoes, duck skin, butter, hoisin sauce, sesame seed oil, bananas and human thumb. ~ Alexander Theroux

Dango, dango, dango, dango, a big dango family
Dango, dango, dango, dango, a big dango family

The naughty fried dango, the kind red bean dango
The Mid-Autumn Festival dango tends to dream a little
The prim sesame dango, the four dango on a skewer
Everyone, everyone comes together and it's a family of 100s

The baby dango is always within happiness
The aged dango has its eyes narrowed

The chummy dango hold their hands together and make a big, round ring
They build a town on the dango planet and everyone laughs together
The rabbit is trying to wave in the sky; the huge moon
Is rounding up everything, happy things and sad things, too

The chummy dango hold their hands together and make a big, round ring
They build a town on the dango planet and everyone laughs together
The rabbit is trying to wave in the sky; the huge moon
Is rounding up everything, happy things and sad things, too

Dango, dango, dango, dango, a big dango family
Dango, dango, dango, dango, a big dango family

Dango, dango, dango, dango, a big dango family
Dango, dango, dango, dango, a big dango family ~ Chata

My little sister, Prim, curled up on her side, cocooned in my mother's body, their cheeks pressed together. In sleep, my mother looks younger, still worn but not so beaten-down. Prim's face is as fresh as a raindrop, as lovely as the primrose for which she was named. My mother was very beautiful once, too. Or so they tell me. ~ Suzanne Collins

...we spoke about dying. [Prim] told me how she'd nearly died of malaria. She said that she didn't mind the thought of death. That realizing you're going to die actually makes life better as it's only then that you decide to live the life you really want to live. ~ Jennifer Ryan

Mr Lefoux, would you fetch Prim for me? She seems to have been kilted." Quesnel ~ Gail Carriger

So odd. Most women of his acquaintance relied on physical beauty and charm to mask their less-pleasant traits. This girl did the opposite, hiding everything interesting about herself behind a prim, plain facade.
What other surprises was she concealing? ~ Tessa Dare

Some days, I want to be prim and proper, and others, I want to be in a band. ~ Melissa McCarthy

In theory I rather admire the Spaniards for not sharing our Northern time-neurosis; but unfortunately I share it myself. ~ George Orwell

He lifted the book from the purse. The cover sported a painting of a stunning redhead in a long, pink gown who stared out the window over rolling green hills. The cover was slightly narrower than the rest of the book, and from underneath peeked out what looked to be a second cover. He turned the page and was startled at what he saw. Another full-color painting, but this one of a shirtless man smashing the heavily bosomed redhead onto a red couch. Her clothes were torn and their torsos met violently. The man's face was savage; the woman's head thrown back in surrender.
Sam flicked back and forth between the image of the prim, composed woman on the front cover and her ribald, passionate abandon on the inside cover.
He glanced out the window to see Ally emerge onto the street below, her head held high and her gait tight and focused as she marched away, prim and composed.
He flipped to the inside cover.
Hot damn. ~ Diana Holquist

What I mean is that modern women like you are all, to a greater or lesser extend, hard...It's the yearning. Plainly and simply, it's the yearning."

Yearning? For what? {Miss Prim]

The yearning you all display to prove your worth, to show that you know this and that, to ensure that you can have it all. The yearning to succeed and, even more, the yearning not to fail; the yearning not to be seen as inferior, but instead even as superior, simply for being exactly what you believe you are, or rather what you've been made to believe you are. The inexplicable yearning for the world to give you credit simply for being women. {Lulu Thiberville] ~ Natalia Sanmartin Fenollera

At least, you two have decent manners," says Effie as we're finishing the main course. "The pair last year ate everything with their hands like a couple of savages. It completely upset my digestion."
... My mother taught Prim and me to eat properly, so yes, I can handle a fork and knife. But I hate Effie Trinket's comment so much I make a point of eating the rest of my meal with my fingers. Then I wipe my hands on the tablecloth. This makes her purse her lips tightly together. ~ Suzanne Collins

For Anne to take things calmly would have been to change her nature. All 'spirit and fire and dew,' as she was, the pleasures and pains of life came to her with trebled intensity. Marilla felt this and was vaguely troubled over it, realizing that the ups and downs of existence would probably bear hardly on this impulsive soul and not sufficiently understanding that the equally great capacity for delight might more than compensate. Therefore Marilla conceived it to be her duty to drill Anne into a tranquil uniformity of disposition as impossible and alien to her as to a dancing sunbeam in one of the brook shallows. She did not make much headway, as she sorrowfully admitted to herself. The downfall of some dear hope or plan plunged Anne into 'deeps of affliction.' The fulfillment thereof exalted her to dizzy realms of delight. Marilla had almost begun to despair of ever fashioning this waif of the world into her model little girl of demure manners and prim deportment. Neither would she have believed that she really liked Anne much better as she was. ~ L.M. Montgomery

It's only now that he's been corrupted that I can fully appreciate the real Peeta. Even more than I would've if he'd died. The kindness, the steadiness, the warmth that had an unexpected heat behind it. Outside of Prim, my mother and Gale, how many people in the world love me unconditionally? I think in my case, the answer may be none.
Sometimes, when I'm alone, I take the pearl from where it lives in my pocket and try to remember the boy with the bread, the strong arms that warded off nightmares on the train, the kisses in the arena. To make myself put a name to the thing I've lost. But what's the use? It's gone. He's gone. Whatever existed between us is gone. All that's left is my promise to kill Snow. I tell myself this ten times a day. ~ Suzanne Collins

One feels almost laughably heavy-footed in pointing out that Mrs. Clinton's prim little book, It Takes a Village, proposes sexual abstinence for the young, and that the president was earnestly seconding this very proposal while using an impressionable intern as the physical rather than moral equivalent of a blow-up doll. ~ Christopher Hitchens

The cat that Prim got hates me, I think partly because I tried to drown it. ~ Suzanne Collins

You have eyes like a mermaid," he murmured. "Soft, pale green. Beautiful."
"I knew it was only a matter of time before you walked in during my bath," Lara said, trying to sound calm although her heart was pounding. "Your request to see me in that negligee made it quite evident that you're a shameless voyeur."
Hunter grinned. "I've been found out, it seems. But you can't blame me for it."
"Why not?"
"After more than a year of sexual deprivation, a man has to have some pleasure."
"You could expend your energy on something more productive," Lara suggested as he came closer to the bath. "Develop a hobby... collect something... take up chess or pugilism."
His eyes twinkled at her prim tone. "I do have a hobby, madam."
"Which is what?"
"Admiring you."
She shook her head with a reluctant smile. "If you weren't so annoying, my lord, you would almost be charming."
"If you weren't so beautiful, I wouldn't be annoying." He gave her an easy masculine grin. "But I plan to annoy you often, madam, and someday you'll like it." He took another step toward the tub. "Brace yourself- I'm coming closer."
Lara went rigid, thinking of covering herself, screaming, splashing him... but she did none of those things. She remained in the tub, stretched before him like a pagan sacrifice. Hunter made no obvious show of staring at her, but she knew that he took in every detail of her body as it shimmered beneath the scented water. ~ Lisa Kleypas

I started down but Sam caught my arm and knelt down himself to look.
"For crying out loud," he said. "It's a racoon."
"Poor thing," I said.
"It could be a rabid baby-killer," Cole told me primly.
"Shut up," Sam said pleasantly. ~ Maggie Stiefvater

Mouth to continue, Haymitch plummets off the stage and knocks himself unconscious. He's disgusting, but I'm grateful. With every camera gleefully trained on him, I have just enough time to release the small, choked sound in my throat and compose myself. I put my hands behind my back and stare into the distance. I can see the hills I climbed this morning with Gale. For a moment, I yearn for something ... the idea of us leaving the district ... making our way in the woods ... but I know I was right about not running off. Because who else would have volunteered for Prim? Haymitch is whisked away on a stretcher, and Effie Trinket is trying to get the ball rolling again. What an ~ Suzanne Collins

In Riverview, we stopped at Larkin's Drugstore for a cold drink. Leaving the rest of us to scramble out unaided, John offered Hannah his hand. Although I'd just seen her leap out of a tree as fearless as a cat, she let him help her.
At the soda fountain, Hannah took a seat beside John. In her white dress, she was as prim and proper as any lady you ever saw. Quite frankly, I liked her better the other way.
I grabbed the stool on the other side of Hannah and spun around on it a couple of times, hoping to get her to spin with me, but the only person who noticed was Mama. She told me to sit still and behave myself. "You act like you have ants in your pants," she said, embarrassing me and making Theo laugh.
While I was sitting there scowling at Theo in the mirror, John leaned around Hannah and grinned at me. "To celebrate your recovery, Andrew, I'm treating everyone to a lemon phosphate--everyone, that is, except you."
He paused dramatically, and Hannah gave him a smile so radiant it gave me heartburn. She was going to marry John someday, I knew that. But while I was here, I wanted her all to myself, just Hannah and me playing marbles in the grove, talking, sharing secrets, climbing trees. She had the rest of her life to spend with stupid John Larkin.
"As the guest of honor," John went on, "you may pick anything your heart desires."
Slightly placated by his generosity, I stared at the menu. It was amazing what you could buy for a nickel or a dime in 1 ~ Mary Downing Hahn

I lay in bed last night and thought of G.P. I thought of being in bed with him. I wanted to be in bed with him. I wanted the marvellous, the fantastic ordinariness of him. His promiscuity is creative. Vital. Even though it hurts. He creates love and life and excitement around him; he lives; the people he loves always remember him.
I've always felt like it sometimes. Promiscuous. Anyone I see, even just some boy in the Tube, some man, I think what he would be like in bed. I look at their mouths and their hands, put on a prim expression and think about them having me in bed.
Even Toinette, getting into bed with anyone. I used to think it was messy. But love is beautiful, any love. Even just sex. ~ John Fowles

I don't have a talent, unless you count hunting illegally, which they don't. Or maybe singing, which I wouldn't do for the Capitol in a million years. My mother tried to interest me in a variety of suitable alternatives from a list Effie Trinket sent her. Cooking, flower arranging, playing the flute. None of them took, although Prim had a knack for
all three. Finally Cinna stepped in and offered to help me develop my passion for designing clothes, which really required development since it was non-existent. ~ Suzanne Collins

Oh dear, thought Demelza, how strange it all is! Me, sitting here, a mother, like a middle-aged dowager, moving in the best circles, behaving with prim propriety, hands folded on reticule, feet politely together, smiling graciously when spoken to, inclining the head this way and that, the perfect lady; when I've still got two scars on my back from my father's leather strap, and I learned to swear and curse and spit before I was seven, and I crawled with lice and ate what food I could find lying in the gutter, and had six dirty undernourished brothers all younger than me to look after. ~ Winston Graham

Let's have a little honesty," I said instead. "You want me every day. You want me every hour, just as I want you. You fantasize about my control, my commands, my gaze on your naked skin. You want me to hurt you. You want my cock inside you, fucking you until everything else falls away." With every word, her gaze flickered a little. The front of prim professionalism would never hide the need inside her. "Just admit it," I said quietly. "To me and to yourself. ~ Annabel Joseph

I'm not very good with conventional, prim-and-proper people who are well-behaved, grown-up. ~ Lesley Nicol

Then there's the intelligence that practically radiates from you. Did I ever tell you smart women seriously turn me on?" His thumbs began caressing her cheeks and he bent to whisper close to her ear. "You're a walking contradiction, Hayden. Prim and proper one moment, wild and uninhibited the next. And the more I get to know you, the more I like what I find. ~ Elle Kennedy

Why was it librarians had such a prim image? With all the information available in books right there at their fingertips, librarians could be the best-informed people around. About anything. ~ Charlaine Harris

It is our policy not to negotiate with terrorists."
I stared at the phone, my eyes wide. I was speechless and very, very angry.
"Are you still there?" The voice belonged to an unnamed official in the NSA. Perston‐Smythe introduced him as one of Cox's supervisors.
"What the fuck do you mean by that?"
"It is the policy of this government not to negotiate with terrorists."
"Do you mean to tell me that you consider me a terrorist?"
He sounded almost prim. "Certainly. You've taken a hostage."
"Terrorists," I said, gritting my teeth, "attack the innocent to achieve their goals. If you're about to tell me that you consider Cox an innocent bystander, then this conversation is over."
"Terrorists are - "
"Oh, fuck it! You want a terrorist action so you can consider me a terrorist? There's no way you can keep me out of your nuclear arsenals. Where do you want the first one to go off? The Pentagon? The White House? The Capitol building? How about Moscow or Kiev? Wouldn't that be interesting? Do you think they'd launch?"
His voice was a lot less prim. "You wouldn't do that."
"Well, as a matter of fact, I wouldn't. BECAUSE I'M NOT A TERRORIST!" I slammed the phone down on the hook and jumped. ~ Steven Gould

There was a vase of flame-coloured tulips in the hall - surely the most graceful of flowers. Some thrust their heads forward like snakes, and some were very erect, stiff, virginal, rather prim. Some were dying, with curved grace in their death. ~ Jean Rhys

Your prim faith in the True Sect's canon serves naught. The temple preaches a loveless morality that cares not one jot for the plight of our livelihood. The priests are fat parasites, theosophizing on their rumps while folk like us break our backs, milked dry by their tithes and their rote obligations. Where does their doctrine show the least concern for our chance to enjoy the fruits of our happiness? ~ Janny Wurts

And by the way, my dear,' he said, 'you might just mention to Mrs. Sutton that if she must read the morning paper before I come down, I should be obliged if she would fold it neatly afterwards.'
'What an old fuss-box you are, darling,' said his wife.
Mr. Mummery sighed. He could not explain that it was somehow important that the morning paper should come to him fresh and prim, like a virgin.
Women did not feel these things. ("Suspicion") ~ Dorothy L. Sayers

Whatever it takes to break you. ~ Suzanne Collins

People deal with me, but they are genuinely fond of Prim. Maybe there will be enough fondness to keep her alive. ~ Suzanne Collins

Prim... Rue... aren't they the very reason I have to try to fight? Because what has been done to them is so wrong, so beyond justification, so evil that there is no choice? Because no one had the right to treat them as they have been treated? Yes. This is the thing to remember when fear threatens to swallow me up. ~ Suzanne Collins

A woman can be demure, lady-like and the most prim and proper character, and still have a toughness and resiliency as apparent as a superhero-type female character or a warrior or soldier type. It's all about the story, the character, and the course of events in that piece of work and how that character is presented. ~ Katherine McNamara

Incredibly, there are people - smart people - who think a prim disdain for drama is somehow a sign of "good taste." It is more often the reverse: a lamentable insensitivity to the essence of the art, a failure to "get it" on the most essential level. It is more often a sign not of good taste but of artistic insecurity. Not knowing how far to go, the writer goes nowhere. Lifelessness is not a form of elegance you should pursue. ~ Stephen Koch

Annie Wilkes had her own interior set of rules; in her way she was strangely prim. She had made him drink water from a floor-bucket; had withheld his medication until he was in agony; had made him burn the only copy of his new novel; had hand-cuffed him and stuck a rag reeking of furniture polish in his mouth; but she would not take the money from his wallet. She brought it to him, the old scuffed Lord Buxton he'd had since college, and put it in his hands. All ~ Stephen King

She's not here," I tell him. Buttercup hisses again. "She's not here. You can hiss all you like. You won't find Prim." At her name, he perks up. Raises his flattened ears. Begins to meow hopefully. "Get out!" He dodges the pillow I throw at him. "Go away! There's nothing left for you here!" I start to shake, furious with him. "She's not coming back! She's never ever coming back here again!" I grab another pillow and get to my feet to improve my aim. Out of nowhere, the tears begin to pour down my cheeks. "She's dead, you stupid cat. She's dead. ~ Suzanne Collins

Many of the people who left the South never exactly sat their children down to tell them these things, tell them what happened and why they left and how they and all this blood kin came to be in this northern city or western suburb or why they speak like melted butter and their children speak like footsteps on pavement, prim and proper or clipped and fast, like the New World itself. ~ Isabel Wilkerson

Answer, only left the room. She might have asked him if something was wrong, might even have gone after him and asked him if he was sick to his stomach - he was sexually uninhibited, but he could be oddly prim about other things, and it wouldn't be at all unlike him to say he was going to take a bath when what he really had to do was whoops something which hadn't agreed with him. But now a new family, the Piscapos, were being introduced, and Patty just knew Richard Dawson would find something funny to say about that name, and besides, she was having the devil's own time finding a black button, although she knew there were loads of them in the button box. They hid, of course; that was the only explanation ... So she let him go and did not think of him again until the credit-crawl, when she ~ Stephen King

Prim a doctor. She couldn't even dream of it in 12. Something small and quiet, like a match being struck, lights up the gloom inside me. This is the sort of future a rebellion could bring. ~ Suzanne Collins

Gray waited a full verse before approaching her, prowling around her periphery and coming to rest behind her right shoulder. A few of the men gave him friendly nods, but most were too absorbed in their spirits and song to pay him any mind.
"What are you doing?" she asked, flicking him a glance through the swaying lamplight.
"Who, me?" he murmured. "I'm simply leaning against the foremast. You know, this tall bit of timber you weren't to go past."
She sipped her drink.
Gray pushed off the mast and crouched at her side. If she'd turn and look at him, they would be eye-to-eye. But she didn't. "The better question is, what the hell are you doing?"
"I'm enjoying myself," she said lightly, taking another drink. "I suggest you do the same." She passed the tankard to him and applauded with wild enthusiasm as the song came to its tuneless end.
Gray peered at the half-empty tankard, then lifted it to his nose and sniffed. Straight, unadulterated rum, the girl was drinking. That would explain the enthusiasm. Her applause concluded, she snatched the tankard back and downed a swallow to do a sailor proud.
Bloody hell. Gray suspected the only thing worse than watching over a prim governess would be watching over a soused one. ~ Tessa Dare

Sensing a favourable shift, Prim called for celebratory muffins and jam. Muffins and jam seemed to sooth everyone's temper, particularly the Alpha Vanara's whose delight in the jam was that of a child discovering blancmange for the first time. Rue could sympathise. She often felt that way about really good jam, not to mention blancmange. And this was, after all, gooseberry. ~ Gail Carriger

This week I was watching the Rachel Maddow Show (you'd love her: she's funny and brilliant and just happens to be a stunning butch), and she was interviewing the outgoing attorney general, Loretta Lynch, about the country's post election future. The entire show was like a burst of hope so bright I almost had to put on sunglasses. The African American attorney general, prim and plump, sat perched on a barstool talking to a white butch lesbian who has her own national television news show! The event was being recorded in the Stonewall Inn, the site of one of the first places where queer people fought back against police violence! (I was so nervous about being a lesbian in 1969, I hid the tiny newspaper clipping from you.) Simply that the interview was happening made me remember that there are people in the world who are not such egotistical, political careerists as to believe that human rights don't matter. Then, as if just showing up wasn't enough, Attorney General Lynch spoke a truth that is hard to remember from our short-lived perspective: "History is bigger than one turn of the electoral wheel." During your eighty-eight years on this plane, you saw numerous turns of the wheel, and many of them did not land on a prize. Still, toward the end of your life, you took me in and bestowed not just a roof and clothes and food but the gift of your history and the knowledge that we find hope inside ourselves. ~ Jewelle L. Gómez

The essence of taste is suitability. Divest the word of its prim and priggish implications, and see how it expresses the mysterious demand of the eye and mind for symmetry, harmony and order. ~ Edith Wharton

Why do prostitutes when they get straight always try and get so prim? It's like long-repressed librarian-ambitions come flooding out. ~ David Foster Wallace

I knew you were looking down my shirt, she said, her voice sounding all prim and scandalized. God, it turned him on. Because she looked tough and dirty, not at all innocent. The voice of a virgin and the body of a sinner. ~ Lynn Raye Harris

But the objection being raised was not due to the phrase's overall lack of verve; rather it was due to the word facilitate. Specifically, the verb had been accused of being so tepid and prim that it failed to do justice to the labors of the men in the room. ~ Amor Towles

Now people are so concerned with virtue and innocence that they are blinded to the fact that when people get together, sex happens. We are held by societal standards that the body needs to be covered up and that we need to speak in prim and proper tones and words. Why, back in my day, clothing was optional! If you didn't want to wear trousers, you didn't have to! It was okay to go out and for everyone to see your( ... )dedication to freeing your spirit from the confines of rigid morals and ethics that had no bearing on who we were as individuals and as a whole. ~ T.J. Klune

You can't look prim and righteous wearing a microscopic miniskirt and mile-high heels. Well it's pretty hard, anyway. ~ Meg Cabot

[She] had the indefinable charm of someone who said little but thought much. Miss Prim had always felt that such people were at a marked advantage. They never said anything tactless, never spouted nonsense, never had cause to regret their words or justify themselves. ~ Natalia Sanmartin Fenollera

She didn't overreact. It may have crossed her mind to march down to the woman responsible for sending this charity shitbox, but she didn't. She swallowed the glint of anger. She packed it into her prim-and-proper voice, and like her son, moved on. ~ Markus Zusak

Prim and proper, a cat woman ... Hmm, I was left to wonder. Possibly a librarian in her late forties or early fifties. In town for a special occasion? It certainly left me to ponder her story. ~ Debbie Macomber

I'm interested in a lot. Like right now, I'm just really excited for 'Catching Fire' and 'Mockingjay' Part 1 and 2. But I love playing characters like Prim - I mean, Prim is like my dream character - but after 'The Hunger Games', it would be fun to look and see what else I could do well. But right now, Prim is like my dream role. ~ Willow Shields

Dreams. The face of the redheaded girl intertwines with gory images from earlier Hunger Games, with my mother withdrawn and unreachable, with Prim emaciated and terrified. I bolt up screaming for my father to run as the ~ Suzanne Collins

I've had a wonderful time in 'Foyle's War' and I don't mind being typecast. But I'm not prim. I'm chaotic, happy, and desperate to have some laughs. I'd love to do a comedy next, or something modern. ~ Honeysuckle Weeks

Get out!" He dodges the pillow I throw at him. "Go away! There's nothing left for you here!" I start to shake, furious with him. "She's not coming back! She's never ever coming back here again!" I grab another pillow and get to my feet to improve my aim. Out of nowhere, the tears begin to pour down my cheeks. "She's dead." I clutch my middle to dull the pain. Sink down on my heels, rocking the pillow, crying. "She's dead, you stupid cat. She's dead. ~ Suzanne Collins

Mrs. Darling loved to have everything just so, and Mr. Darling had a passion for being exactly like his neighbours; so, of course, they had a nurse. As they were poor, owing to the amount of milk the children drank, this nurse was a prim Newfoundland dog, called Nana, who had belonged to no one in particular until the Darlings engaged her. She had always thought children important, however, and the Darlings had become acquainted with her in Kensington Gardens, where she spent most of her spare time peeping into perambulators, and was much hated by careless nursemaids, whom she followed to their homes and complained of to their mistresses. She proved to be quite a treasure of a nurse. ~ J.M. Barrie

Her name's Prim. She's just twelve. And I love her more than anything. ~ Suzanne Collins

What, suddenly I am a figure from an ancient bit of nursery nonsense?" He lifted a forepaw and began chewing his toes, the picture of dismissive indifference. "And the next egg you come across you'll ask, 'Tell me, sir, what were you doing up on that wall anyway?'"
"Are you ashamed to answer?"
"I am ashamed of nothing. I am a cat." The cat gracefully placed his paw next to the other, sitting as prim as a perfect statue. ~ Anne Elisabeth Stengl

The typical socialist ... a prim little man with a white-collar job, usually a secret teetotaler and often with vegetarian leanings. ~ George Orwell

What am I? Chopped liver? Is there some specific reason he never pulls me over close to him as we drive around the countryside? Why doesn't he hook his right arm affectionately around my neck and claim me as the woman of his pickup? I never knew I had such a yearning to ride next to a man in a pickup, but apparently it had been a suppressed lifelong dream I knew nothing about. Suddenly, sitting in that pickup with Marlboro Man, I'd apparently never wanted anything so badly in my life.
I couldn't keep quiet about it any longer. "So…," I began. Was it just a high school thing? Or worse, I imagined, is it just that I'm not and never will be a country girl? Is it that country girls have some wild sense of abandon that I wasn't born with? A reckless side, a fun, adventurous side that makes them worthy of riding next to boys in pickups? Am I untouchable? Am I too prim? Too proper? I'm not! I'm really not! I'm fun and adventurous. Reckless, too! I have a pair of jeans: Anne Kleins! And I want to be Middle Seat Worthy. Please, Marlboro Man…please. I've never wanted anything this much. "So, um…why don't you do it anymore?" I asked.
"Bucket seats," Marlboro Man answered, his hand still resting on my leg.
Made sense. I settled in and relaxed a bit. ~ Ree Drummond

At the moment, however, she had an ever larger problem: what to do now, when two defenseless women were completely lost in the wilds of Scotland, at night, in the rain and cold.
Shuffling footsteps sounded on the gravel path, and both women straightened, both suppressing the hope soaring in their breasts and keeping their faces carefully expressionless.
"Well, well, well," Jake boomed. "Glad I caught up with you and-" He lost his thought as he beheld the utterly comic sight of two stiff-backed women seated on a trunk together, prim and proper as you please, beneath a black umbrella in the middle of nowhere. "Uh-where are your horses?"
"We have no horses," Lucinda informed him in a disdainful voice that implied such beasts would have been an intrusion on their tete-a-tete.
"No? How did you get here?"
"A wheeled conveyance carried us to this godforsaken place."
"I see." He lapsed into daunted silence, and Elizabeth started to say something at least slightly pleasant when Lucinda lost her patience.
"You have, I collect, come to urge us to return?"
"Ah-yes. Yes, I have."
"Then do so. We haven't all night." Lucinda's words struck Elizabeth as a bald lie.
When Jake seemed at a loss as to how to go about it, Lucinda stood up and assisted him. "I gather Mr. Thornton is extremely regretful for his unforgivable and inexcusable behavior?"
"Well, yes, I guess that's the way it is. In a way."
"No doubt he intends to tell us that ~ Judith McNaught

I said that i would try to win, but to win for her. ~ Suzanne Collins

She moved to push past him. When he did not move, she stopped, unwilling to touch him.
A pity. The memory of the warmth of her gloved hand on his cold cheek flashed. Apparently her behavior outside had been the product of surprise.
And pleasure.
He wondered what else he might do instinctively in response to pleasure. An image flashed- blond hair spread wide across dark, silken sheets, ice blue eyes alight with surprise as he gave prim, proper Penelope a glimpse of dark and heady pleasure.
He'd nearly kissed her in the darkness. It had started out as a way to intimidate her, to begin the systematic compromising of quiet, unassuming, Penelope Marbury. But he did not deny that as they stood in his barren kitchen, he wondered what she would taste like. How her breath would sound fluttering across his skin. How she would feel against him. Around him. ~ Sarah MacLean