Swanky Quotes

I like to use my influence for good, rather than evil. And in this case, the good is a free meal at a swanky restaurant. But I don't have much influence, as you could tell if you saw the meal I was just given: two packets of saltine crackers and a glass of water (ice not included). ~ Jarod Kintz

When living is too sweet and swanky, it may be very hard to appreciate the simplest things in life. ("Is that all there is?") ~ Erik Pevernagie

Inside the glittery, swanky cases-the 'modern art' materials that were all the rage at the time, Formica and glass and plastic-was something very unpleasant, very frightening, and looking absolutely real. ~ Paul Thek

We sit down with the kids every single night, not that I want to every night - sometimes I'd rather be out with my husband having a martini at a swanky restaurant - but we sit down with our kids every night at dinner. ~ Debi Mazar

You'd really give up your big, swanky apartment?"
"If you don't want to move in there with me, yes."
"But you love your apartment."
"I love you more, dumb ass. ~ Suzanne Wright

I would not take a girl to a club on a Thursday. I would not take her to a really noisy, swanky restaurant. ~ Paul Dano

A diner having a row with a waiter in a swanky restaurant chills the blood in a way that a quarrel over a pizza order elsewhere would never do. Compassion is rarely the custom of the privileged. ~ Derren Brown

I know people who simply cannot remain in simple spaces. There is always this push to be identified with a swanky address. While there is absolutely nothing wrong with being identified with luxurious spaces and ritzy places, I would like to tell the world, that what is in front of you does not matter; it is what you see when you look in front of you that matters. We cannot find magic in spaces and places; but we can find magic within our own eyes, when we look out at absolutely anything that is before us. And this is not even about assigning value to what is not valuable. But this is about holding magic within yourself, within your own eyes, because, they may be able to take you out of the magic but they should never be able to take the magic out of you. You must be the magic. You. ~ C. JoyBell C.

Chip and I were both exhausted when we finally pulled up in front of that house, but we were still riding the glow of our honeymoon, and I was so excited as he carried me over the threshold--until the smell nearly knocked us over.
"Oh my word," I said, pinching my nose and trying to hold my breath so I wouldn't gag. "What is that?"
Chip flicked the light switch, and the light didn't come on. He flicked it up and down a few times, then felt his way forward in the darkness and tried another switch.
"The electricity's off," he said. "The girls must've had it shut off when they moved out."
"Didn't you transfer it back into your name?" I asked.
"I guess not. I'm sorry, babe," Chip said.
"Chip, what is that smell?"
It was the middle of June in Waco, Texas. The temperature had been up over a hundred degrees for days on end, and the humidity was stifling, amplifying whatever that rotten smell was coming from the kitchen. Chip always carries a knife and a flashlight, and it sure came in handy that night. Chip made his way back there and found that the fridge still had a bunch of food left in it, including a bunch of ground beef that had just sat there rotting since whenever the electricity went out.

The food was literally just smoldering in this hundred-degree house. So we went from living in a swanky hotel room on Park Avenue in New York City to this disgusting, humid stink of a place that felt more like the site of a crime scene than a h ~ Joanna Gaines

Swankiness get noticed but style get remembered. ~ Amit Kalantri

This is potentially key," I'm saying. "This may be just the sort of regional politico-sexual contrast the swanky East-Coast magazine is keen for..."
"They might ought to try just climbing on and spinning and ignoring assholes and saying Fuck 'em. That's pretty much all you can do with assholes."
"This could be integral. ~ David Foster Wallace

The antique shop in the Brompton Road proved, as fore-shadowed, to be an antique shop in the Brompton Road and, like all antique shops except the swanky ones in the Bond Street neigbourhood, dingy outside and dark and smelly within. I don't know why it is, but the proprietors of these establishments always seem to be cooking some sort of stew in the back room. ~ P.G. Wodehouse