Tongued Updo Quotes

There are three friendships which are advantageous, and three which are injurious. Friendship with the upright; friendship with the sincere; and friendship with the man of much observation: these are advantageous. Friendship with the man of specious airs; friendship with the insinuatingly soft; and friendship with the glib-tongued: these are injurious. ~ Confucius

Oh. My. God. I kissed a prince, I flipping kissed a prince! I flipping tongued him! ~ Luella Christie

And though Remi was having worklife problems and bad lovelife with a sharp-tongued woman, he at least had learned to laugh almost better than anyone in the world, and I saw all the fun we were going to have in Frisco. ~ Jack Kerouac

Right here let me make as vigorous a plea as I know how in favor of saying nothing that we do not mean, and of acting without hesitation up to whatever we say. A good many of you are probably acquainted with the old proverb: 'Speak softly and carry a big stick
you will go far.' If a man continually blusters, if he lacks civility, a big stick will not save him from trouble; and neither will speaking softly avail, if back of the softness there does not lie strength, power. In private life there are few beings more obnoxious than the man who is always loudly boasting; and if the boaster is not prepared to back up his words his position becomes absolutely contemptible. So it is with the nation. It is both foolish and undignified to indulge in undue self-glorification, and, above all, in loose-tongued denunciation of other peoples. ~ Theodore Roosevelt

What she means is, I might look like a pussy but I'm really a badass demon. ~ Jaye Wells

So now Nathan had a new partner, who, by all accounts, was a dour old drudge with nary a daughter to his name. She'd seen Nathan in town once since then. He had not looked happy.
But she was insanely happy, especially after what the doctor had hold her yesterday. With only a few days left at home, she and Freddy had dragged Jane and Oliver on a romantic picnic. So far, it wasn't going all that well. Poor Jane darted up at every sound. Freddy's mischievous brothers had convinced her that wild Indians might descend upon them any minute, and no amount of Freddy's posturing with the sword could relieve her fears.
Oliver was no help, either. He kept pretending to see feather headdresses behind every bush, though Maria had told him repeatedly that the only tribes in their area had left long ago. He was every bit as devilish as her cousins, who'd embraced him instantly as a man after their own heats. Aunt Rose had pronounced Oliver a smooth-tongued rogue the first time he told her how fetching she looked in her peacock bonnet.
Little did she know.
"Are you sure there's a fish pond back there, Freddy?" Jane asked skeptically as Freddy led her around a deserted cabin.
"Quite sure." He puffed out his chest. "I've caught many a fine trout in that pond."
"More like trout bait," Maria told Oliver, who was stretched out on the blanket beside her, reading a letter from Jarret. "I've never seen a fish longer than my thumb in that pond. ~ Sabrina Jeffries

I am the dangerous daughter, thigh-stroking, soft-tongued lover, the pit, the well, and the well of horniness, laughter rolling up out of me like gravy boiling over the edge of a pan. I become the romantic, the mystic, the one without shame, rocking myself on the hip of a rock, a woman as sharp as coral. I make in my mind the muscle that endures, tame rage and hunger to spirit and blood. I become the rock. I become the knife. I am myself the mystery. The me that will be waits for me. If I cannot dream myself new, how will I find my true self? ~ Dorothy Allison

And who e'er said I wanted such a fiery-tongued woman to wife?"
"I'll wait until the two of you are married to tell Trulie you said that. ~ Maeve Greyson

We have a task before us which must be speedily performed. We know that it will be ruinous to make delay. The most important crisis of our life calls, trumpet-tongued, for immediate energy and action. We glow, we are consumed with eagerness to commence the work, with the anticipation of whose glorious result our whole souls are on fire. It must, it shall be undertaken to-day, and yet we put it off until to-morrow; and why? There is no answer, except that we feel perverse, using the word with no comprehension of the principle. To-morrow arrives, and with it a more impatient anxiety to do our duty, but with this very increase of anxiety arrives, also, a nameless, a positively fearful, because unfathomable, craving for delay. This craving gathers strength as the moments fly. The last hour for action is at hand. We tremble with the violence of the conflict within us, - of the definite with the indefinite - of the substance with the shadow. But, if the contest have proceeded thus far, it is the shadow which prevails, - we struggle in vain. The clock strikes, and is the knell of our welfare. At the same time, it is the chanticleer-note to the ghost that has so long overawed us. It flies - it disappears - we are free. The old energy returns. We will labor now. Alas, it is too late! ~ Edgar Allan Poe

Shelby looked over to see Andrew silently mouthing syllables to himself, as if he were part of an ecstatic rite. He grinned as he bit fricatives and tongued plosives. He was tasting English origins, mulling over words ripped from bronze-smelling hoards. Words that had slept beneath centuries of dust and small rain, sharp and bright as scale mail. Poetry had never moved her quite so much as drama. She loved the shock of colloquy, the beat and treble of words doing what they had to on stage. Andrew preferred the echo of poems buried alive. ~ Bailey Cunningham

You were never as much to blame as you thought," she told him softly.
A brief smile touched his lips. "That's what you say. But you're biased."
She shrugged. "Maybe a little. But I would never have agreed to marry you if I'd thought you capable of real wickedness. I wouldn't have risked having a child of mine suffer the same torments you and your siblings suffered."
Oliver went still. "And does this sudden mention of some future child have anything to do with your sneaking out of the house to consult with a physician this morning?"
She gaped at him. "You knew? How did you find out?"
"Believe me, angel, I know whenever you leave my bed." His eyes gleamed at her. "I feel the loss of it right here." He struck his heart dramatically.
"Aunt Rose spoke the truth about you," she grumbled. "You are a smooth-tongued devil. And apparently you read minds, as well."
He chuckled. "Your aunt simply cannot keep secrets. But to be honest, it's not been hard to notice how little interest you show in your breakfast these days, and how often you like to nap. I know the signs of a woman with child. I watched my mother go through them with four children."
"And here I was hoping to surprise you," she said with a pout. "I swear you are impossible to surprise."
"That's only because you used up all your surprises in the first hour of our meeting."
"How so?"
"By boldly threatening me with Freddy's sword. And by agreeing to my insane proposal. Then ~ Sabrina Jeffries

She winced to remember herself at seventeen, in high school, how, after the first illuminating weekend, everything spoke sex to her. The way the light pulsed the leaves of the ragweed in the ditches, the way clothes teased her skin as she moved. The words leaving a person's mouth, how they were tongued, rolled, lipped before they emerged. It was as if the man had suddenly reached into her and pulled out an earthquake and set it loose on her skin. She walked the last weeks of high school wanting to eat every one of these delicious boys. If she had only been allowed, she would have swallowed them whole. She smiled at them hugely; they scurried away. She'd laughed, but felt it was a shame. ~ Lauren Groff

Just as abruptly, he'd become a father. While preparing the book for publication, he'd been dating a woman named Sarah Coowe, an infectious-disease specialist at MGH. They were evenly matched in many ways: sharp-dressed, sharp-tongued, and devoted to their careers and personal freedoms to the exclusion of any serious interest in so-called romance. They spent ten months together. A few weeks after they broke up -- Sarah initiated the split -- she called to say that she was pregnant. "It's mine?" asked Affenlight. "He or she," replied Sarah, "is mostly mine."

They named the child Pella -- that was Affenlight's idea, though Sarah certainly had the final say. For those first couple of years, Affenlight conspired as often as he could to show up at Sarah and Pella's Kendall Square townhouse with expensive takeout and a new toy. He was fascinated with his daughter, with the sheer reality of her, a beautiful something where before there'd been nothing. He hated kissing her good-bye; and yet he relished, couldn't keep himself from relishing, the total quiet of his townhouse when he walked in, the scattered books and papers and lack of baby-proofing. ~ Chad Harbach

She [was] ... one of those convenient types who don't keep you explaining
minds with doors as numerous as the many-tongued clusters of confessionals at St. Peters. ~ Henry James

Alarm clocks were invented by fork-tongued devils disguised as gremlins wearing snake masks. ~ Amy Kathleen Ryan

The jester walked in the garden:
The garden had fallen still;
He bade his soul rise upward
And stand on her window-sill.

It rose in a straight blue garment,
When owls began to call:
It has grown wise-tongued by thinking
Of a quiet and light footfall;

But the young queen would not listen;
She rose in her pale night-gown;
She drew in the heavy casement
And pushed the latches down... ~ W.B. Yeats

Be agreeable, be sympathetic, be loving, be compassionate, be humble. That goes for all of you, no exceptions. No retaliation. No sharp-tongued sarcasm. Instead, bless - that's your job, to bless. You'll be a blessing and also get a blessing. ~ Eugene H. Peterson

Walter looked about him lingeringly and lovingly. This spot had always been so dear to him. What fun they all had had here lang syne. Phantoms of memory seemed to pace the dappled paths and peep merrily through the swinging boughs–Jem and Jerry, bare-legged, sunburned schoolboys, fishing in the brook and frying trout over the old stone fireplace; Nan and Di and Faith, in their dimpled, fresh-eyed childish beauty; Una the sweet and shy, Carl, poring over ants and bugs, little slangy, sharp-tongued, good-hearted Mary Vance–the old Walter that had been himself lying on the grass reading poetry or wandering through palaces of fancy. They were all there around him–he could see them almost as plainly as he saw Rilla–as plainly as he had once seen the Pied Piper piping down the valley in a vanished twilight. And they said to him, those gay little ghosts of other days, "We were the children of yesterday, Walter–fight a good fight for the children of today and tomorrow. ~ L.M. Montgomery

He's a smooth-tongued, cold-eyed, hard-nosed, two-faced creep,' I said, trying to be fair.
She was puzzled. 'How is he so successful?'
'Because,' I explained, 'he's a smooth-tongued, cold-eyed, hard-nosed, two-faced creep. ~ Jonathan Lynn & Anthony Jay

I guess if I'd wanted a nice, biddable wife, I should've looked somewhere other than a tattooed, sharp-tongued, Harley-riding, motorcycle designer. ~ Julie Ann Walker

To be honest, it's probably better if I don't talk. Cute guys make me nervous. Like tongued-tied total-brain-malfunction nervous. All my filters shut off and suddenly I'm telling them about the time I peed my pants in the third grade during a field trip to the maple syrup factory, or how I'm scared of puppets and have mild OCD that could possibly drive me to tidy up your room the moment you turn your head. ~ Elle Kennedy

At this point, a faerie woman came twirling through. She had leaves in her updo and was swathed in ribbons and ivy and not much else. She tripped on a trailing line of ivy and Alec caught her.
"Good reflexes!" she said brightly. "Also great arms. Would you be interested in a night of tumultuous forbidden passion, with an option to extend to seven years?"
"Um, I am gay," Alec said.
He was not used to saying that casually, to any random person. It was strange to say it, and feel both relief and a shadow of his old fear, twined together.
Of course, the declaration might not mean much to faeries. The faerie woman accepted it with a shrug, then looked over at Raphael and lit up.
Something about the leather jacket or the scowl seemed to appeal to her strongly.
"How about you, Vampire Without a Cause?"
"I'm not gay," said Raphael. "I'm not straight. I'm not interested."
"Your sexuality is 'not interested'?" Alec asked curiously.
Raphael said, "That's right."
The faerie thought for a moment, then ventured, "I can also assume the appearance of a tree!"
"I didn't say, 'not interested unless you're a tree.' "
"Wait," said the faerie suddenly. "I recognize you. You're Raphael Santiago! I've heard of you."
Raphael made a gesture of dismissal. "Have you heard I like it when people go away?"
"You were one of the heroes in the Downworlder victory over Valentine."
"He was one of the heroes of the Downworlder and Shadow ~ Cassandra Clare

Sex makes bumble-tongued fools even out of the most eloquent, but the beauty of it is that it also tunes our ears to hear the meaning of words that, spoken under other circumstances, would make us laugh or cry or frown. ~ Megan Hart

TO HIS HEART, BIIDING IT HAVE NO FEAR

Be you still, be you still, trembling heart;
Remember the wisdom out of the old days:
Him who trembles before the flame and the flood,
And the winds that blow through the starry ways,
Let the starry winds and the flame and the flood
Cover over and hide, for he has no part
With the lonely, majestical multitude.


THE CAP AND THE BELLS

The jester walked in the garden:
The garden had fallen still;
He bade his soul rise upward
And stand on her window-sill.
It rose in a straight blue garment,
When owls began to call:
It had grown wise-tongued by thinking
Of a quiet and light footfall;
But the young queen would not listen;
She rose in her pale night-gown;
She drew in the heavy casement
And pushed the latches down.
He bade his heart go to her,
When the owls called out no more;
In a red and quivering garment
It sang to her through the door.
It had grown sweet-tongued by dreaming
Of a flutter of flower-like hair;
But she took up her fan from the table
And waved it off on the air.
'I have cap and bells,' he pondered,
'I will send them to her and die';
And when the morning whitened
He left them where she went by.
She laid them upon her bosom,
Under a cloud of her hair,
And her red lips sang them a love-song
Till stars grew out of the air.
She ope ~ W.B. Yeats

Aye. And I can do without a viper-tongued wench.""Wench? Wench? Lass is one thing, but did you just call me a wench? I'll have you know I'm a doctor. No one calls me a wench. I passed my boards with flying colors. I could take you apart and put you back together with my eyes closed. ~ Jennifer LaBrecque

The words of the double-tongued are as if they were harmless, but they reach even to the inner part of the bowels. Praise be to the Lord, who distinguishes our cause and delivers us from the unjust and deceitful man. ~ Muriel Spark

He was a volatile mixture of confidence and vulnerability. He could deliver extended monologues on professional matters, then promptly stop in his tracks to peer inquisitively into his guest's eyes for signs of boredom or mockery, being intelligent enough to be unable fully to believe in his own claims to significance. He might, in a past life, have been a particularly canny and sharp-tongued royal advisor. ~ Alain De Botton

I want you now. Always. Everywhere and as my everything-my lover, my friend, my sharp-tongued beauty, my drinking companion, my children's mother, my courage in the face of certain defeat. My sactuary." He captured her lips. "My duchess." He kissed her. She returned his kiss with great enthusiasm. "But at this specific moment," he said between kisses, "I just really want you in my bed." With eager compliance, she accepted his kisses on her throat. "I can oblige you in that, your grace." "Or your bed. Whichever we come to first." "You are all that is wise and efficient." "Or the carriage." She grabbed his hand. "Let's be off then, shall we?" Laughter bubbling from her, she dragged him toward the carriage. He snatched her back to him and with his hands around her face said, "Arabella, I love you."

-Luc & Arabella ~ Katharine Ashe

The communication/of the dead is tongued with fire beyond/the language of the living
The Little Gidding ~ T. S. Eliot

All the Christmases roll down toward the two-tongued sea, like a cold and headlong moon bundling down the sky that was our street; and they stop at the rim of the ice-edged, fish-freezing waves, and I plunge my hands in the snow and bring out whatever I can find. ~ Dylan Thomas

I have just read your dispatch about sore-tongued and fatigued horses, Will you pardon me for asking what the horses of your army have done since the Battle of Antietam that fatigues anything? ~ Abraham Lincoln

All of this means that it makes absolute sense for a colony to produce foragers ranging in size, for this allows it to efficiently exploit a broad range of flowers in the surrounding area: small, short-tongued bees for shallow and weak-stemmed flowers, and bigger, longer-tongued bees for the sturdier and deeper flowers. ~ Dave Goulson

Y-You love me?"
Gazing down at her pert nose and the freckles that made him think of an adorable pixie, he felt his throat constrict. "I want you every hour of the day. I can't imagine a future without you in it. The idea of returning to my empty house alone is so hellish that I'd rather wander the world at your heels than be without you. Tell me, is that love?"
She cast him a blazing smile. "It sounds like it."
"Then I love you, my wonderful, sword-wielding, tart-tongued angel. I want you to be my wife. I want you to preside over my table and accompany me to balls and share my bed." A most uncharacteristic happiness surged through him. "And I want to have children with you, lots of them, filling every room in Halstead Hall."
A sudden understanding lit her face. His clever love didn't miss the fact that he was offering her not just himself, but everything else he'd neglected, as well. Everything that he wanted to put to rights. That he needed to put to rights.
"Not filling every room, I hope," she teased, even as tears shone in her eyes. "There are three hundred, after all."
"Then I suppose we'll have to get started right away," he said, matching her light tone. His heart near to bursting, he reached again for the buttons on the back of her gown. "These things should never be left until the last minute."
As a laugh of pure joy bubbled out of her, she began to untie his cravat. "I can see you're going to be quite the lusty husband, aren't you ~ Sabrina Jeffries

Who knows what will come when quick-tongued men make ancient grievances rhyme with fresh desire for land and conquest? ~ Kazuo Ishiguro

Think of this every day. I think of it when I meet the turtle with its patient green face, or hear the hawk's tin-tongued skittering cry, or watch the otters at play in the pond. I am blood and bone however that happened, but I am convictions of my singular experience and my own thought, and they are made greatly of the hours of the earth, rough or smooth, but never less than intimate, poetic, dreamy, adamant, ferocious, loving, life-shaping. ~ Mary Oliver

Out from the servient shoulders of some smooth-tongued Waiter it stares, into the scared dilating pupils of the White Satin Bride with her pledged hand clutching her Bridegroom's sleeve. Up from the gravelly, pick-and-shovel labor of the new-made grave it lifts its weirdly magnetic eyes to the Widow's tears. Down from some petted Princeling's silver-trimmed saddle horse it smiles its electrifying, wistful smile into the Peasant's sodden weariness. Across the slender white rail of an always out-going steamer it stings back into your gray, land-locked consciousness like the tang of a scarlet spray. And the secret of the face, of course, is "Lure"; but to save your soul you could not decide in any specific case whether the lure is the lure of personality, or the lure of physiognomy - a mere accidental, coincidental, haphazard harmony of forehead and cheek-bone and twittering facial muscles. ~ Eleanor Hallowell Abbott

She kissed her like she'd been stranded on an island, notching each stranded day onto a fallen coconut, slowly losing her mind. She filled Michelle like weather, worked her mouth like a cherry stem being tongued into a knot. ~ Michelle Tea

He pulled away the glove, and at the first glimpse of her fragile, white hand, all thoughts of negotiation fled. "I don't see how matters could become worse," he muttered. "I am already besotted with a needle-tongued, conceited, provoking ape leader of a lady."
Her head jerked up. "Besotted? You're nothing like it. Vengeful is more like it. Spiteful. ~ Loretta Chase

Seth laughed when he saw me.
"Hey," I said, poking him with my foot, "be nice."
"I think this is the first time I've ever seen you look anything less than ... " He paused, playing with word choice. "Well-planned."
"Why, you silver-tongued romantic devil. That is the look I usually go for. Other women go for sexy or chic or beautiful. But me? Well-planned all the way."
"You know what I mean. Besides, unplanned isn't a bad look for you. Not bad at all."
His voice sounded deliciously low and dangerous, and something ignited between us as we held each other's eyes. ~ Richelle Mead

You are a very sharp-tongued little girl," mother said, looking up at me. I am two inches taller than she is.

"Unless you learn to curb yourself, there will be no parties for you, and no party dresses."

This was the speach [sic] that broke the Camel's back. I could endure no more.

"I think," I said, "that I shall get married and end everything."

Need I explain that I had no serious intention of taking the fatal step? But it was not deliberate mendasity[sic]. It was Despair. ~ Mary Roberts

Women are of two sorts. Some of them are wiser, better learned, discreeter, and more constant than a number of men. But another and a worse sort of them ... are fond, foolish, wanton, flibbergibs, tatlers, triflers, wavering, witless, without council, feeble, careless, rash, proud, dainty, nice, talebearers, eavesdroppers, rumor-raisers, evil-tongued, worse-minded, and in every way doltified with the dregs of the Devil's dunghill. ~ John Aylmer