Violet Baudelaire Quotes

Violet stayed still as a statue. She hadn't been listening to the last speech of Count Olaf's, knowing it would be full of the usual self-congratulatory nonsense and despicable insults. ~ Lemony Snicket

But he was not looking at the view beneath him. He was looking beside him, where Violet Baudelaire was sitting, ~ Lemony Snicket

Among Violet's many useful skills was a vast knowledge of different types of knots. The particular knot she was using was called the Devil's Tongue. A group of female Finnish pirates invented it back in the fifteenth century, and named it the Devil's Tongue because it twisted this way and that, in the most complicated and eerie way. ~ Lemony Snicket

To those who hadn't been around Violet long, nothing would have seemed unusual, but those who knew her well knew that when she tied her hair up in a ribbon to keep it out of her eyes, it meant that the gears and levers of her inventing brain were whirring at top speed. ~ Lemony Snicket

Very lovely indeed
- Quigley responding to Violet's comment about the view, while actually looking at her. ~ Lemony Snicket

And the eye became a body, the murky heart of a rose. The sinister shadow of an orchid. Or the indolent poppy balanced behind the ear of Baudelaire. ~ Patti Smith

My boobs are willing; the rest of me will come along. I'm not one hundred percent sold on you like they seem to be. ~ Helena Hunting

What a joy is there in a good book, writ by some great master of thought, who breaks into beauty as in summer the meadow into grass and dandelions and violets, with geraniums and manifold sweetness. ~ Theodore Parker

We could talk ... " I take a long inhale off my cigarette and gradually let it out, smoke circling my face. "If you want to."
She tenses as she shakes her head and stares out the window to the side of her. "I want to play make believe for just a little bit longer."
God, i've never felt my heart shatter for someone else more than I have at this moment. ~ Jessica Sorensen

Can it be that distance makes the heart feel fonder, and scatters roses where nettles really grow? ~ Violet Winspear

Then Daniel stepped forward and a trumpet sounded, followed by a drum. The dance was beginning. He took her hand. When he spoke, he spoke to her, not to the audience,as the other players did.
"The fairest hand I ever touched," Daniel said. "O Beauty, till now I never knew thee." As if the lines had been written for the two of them.
They began to dance,and Daniel locked eyes with her the whole time. His eyes were crystal clear and violet, and the way they never strayed from hers chipped away at Luce's heart. She knew he'd loved her always,but until this moment,dancing with him on the stage in front of all these people,she had never really thought about what it meant.
It meant that when she saw him for the first time in every life,Daniel was already in love with her. Every time. And always had been. And every time, she had to fall in love with him from scratch.He could never pressure her or push her into loving him. He had to win her anew each time.
Daniel's love for her was one long, uninterrupted stream.It was the purest form of love there was,purer even than the love Luce returned. His love flowed without breaking,without stopping. Whereas Luce's love was wiped clean with every death, Daniel's grew over time, across all eternity. How powerfully strong must it be by now? Hundreds of love stacked one on top of the other? It was almost too massive for Luce to comprehend.
He loved her that much,and yet in every lifetime,over and over again,he had to wait ~ Lauren Kate

[Daniel] was still glowing, as if lit from within. She could still clearly see his violet-gray eyes and his full mouth. His strong hands and broad shoulders. She could reach out and fold herself into her love's light.
He reached for her. Luce closed her eyes at his touch, expecting something too otherworldly for her human body to withstand. But no. It was simply, reassuringly, Daniel.
She reached around his back to finger his wings. She reached for them nervously, as if they could burn her, but they flowed around her fingers, softer than the smoothest velvet, the plushest rug. The way she'd like to imagine that a fluffy, sun-drenched cloud would feel if she could cup it in her hands.
You're so ... beautiful. ~ Lauren Kate

Daniel's face
the way it had been bathed in violet light when he'd carried her home this morning
appeared before her eyes. His gleaming golden hair. His tender, knowing eyes. The way one touch of his lips transported her far away from any darkness. For him, she'd suffer all of this, and more. ~ Lauren Kate

And, drunk with my own madness, I shouted at him furiously, Make life beautiful! Make life beautiful! ~ Charles Baudelaire

Instead I watched Layla as she bolted over the battered desk, heading for the door Charlotte and Kate had just disappeared through. Good girl.
The thought screeched to a halt as I watched her run straight past it. ~ Violet Cross

There's truths and then there's truths, Violet. And some damn truths shouldn't be spoken out loud, or the Devil will hear, and then he'll come for you. Amen. ~ April Genevieve Tucholke

You'll love me yet!
and I can tarry
Your love's protracted growing:
June reared that bunch of flowers you carry,
From seeds of April's sowing.
I plant a heartful now: some seed
At least is sure to strike,
And yield
what you'll not pluck indeed,
Not love, but, may be, like.
You'll look at least on love's remains,
A grave's one violet:
Your look?
that pays a thousand pains.
What's death? You'll love me yet! ~ Robert Browning

One should always be drunk. That's all that matters ... But with what? With wine, with poetry, or with virtue, as you chose. But get drunk. ~ Charles Baudelaire

The snowdrop and primrose our woodlands adorn, and violets bathe in the wet o' the morn. ~ Robert Burns

The cannon thunders ... limbs fly in all directions ... one can hear the groans of victims and the howling of those performing the sacrifice ... it's Humanity in search of happiness. ~ Charles Baudelaire

Music fathoms the sky. ~ Charles Baudelaire

Jay's mom was a lot of great things that Violet admired, technologically savvy was definitely not one of them. She was one of those people who were loath to move into the twenty-first century and embrace all things modern. She was the only adult woman that Violet knew of who didn't own a cell phone, and she refused to buckle beneath the pressure to pay good money for high-speed internet, so Jay was forced to plug his secondhand laptop into the phone line and use dial-up. Not because they couldn't afford such luxuries, but because Ann Heaton wasn't going down without a fight. ~ Kimberly Derting

She slipped her hands beneath the front of his shirt, slowly running her fingertips over his chest and back down to his waist. He turned in her arms and smiled, but his grin was filled with mocking suspicion. "Are you trying to distract me, Violet Ambrose?"
"I guess you're smarter than you look," she teased as he pushed her backward so that they both fell on her bed.
"And you are not as funny as you think you are." His mouth hovered over hers, his arms tightening, crushing her against him. Violet giggled and tried to squirm free, but Jay wouldn't let her. He kissed her throat, his lips teasing her until it wasn't his grip that made it hard for Violet to breathe.
"Oh, and Violet, he whispered against her ear, his breath tickling her cheek, "I'm still your best friend. Don't ever forget it." His words were fervent and touching. ~ Kimberly Derting

No matter what level of instruction Marlboro Man gave me, no matter how many pointers, a horse trot for me meant a repeated and violet Slap! Slap! Slap! on the seat of my saddle. My feet were fine--they'd stay securely in the stirrups. But I just couldn't figure out how to use the muscles in my legs correctly, and I hadn't yet learned how to post. It was so unpleasant, the whole riding-a-horse business: my bottom would slap, my torso would stiffen, and I'd be sore for days--not to mention that I looked like a complete freak while riding--kind of like a tree trunk with red, stringy hair. Short of taking the rectal temperatures of cows, I'd never felt more out of place doing anything in my life.
All of this rushed to the surface when I saw Marlboro Man walking toward me with two of his horses, one of which was clearly meant for me. Where's my Jeep? I thought. Where's my torch? I don't want a horse. My bottom can't take it. Where's my Jeep? I'd never wanted to drive a Jeep so much.
"Hey," I said, walking toward him and smiling, trying to appear not only calm but also totally unconcerned about the reality that faced me. "Uh…I thought we were going burning."
I clearly sounded out the g. It was a loud, clanging cymbal.
"Oh, we are," he said, smiling. "But we've got to get to some areas the Jeep can't reach."
My stomach lurched. For more than a couple of seconds, I actually considered feigning illness so I wouldn't have to go. What can I say? I wondered. Tha ~ Ree Drummond

Art dulls the terror of the void better than anything else. ~ Charles Baudelaire

There is no such thing as a long piece of work, except one that you dare not start. ~ Charles Baudelaire

She slid a sideways glance in his direction, trying to figure out just what it was that was making her so . . . so painfully self-conscious all of a sudden.
He was looking right at her. Grinning. A big, stupid, self-satisfied grin, as if he had been eavesdropping on her all-too-embarrassing thoughts.
"What?" She tried to defend herself, wishing she'd never looked his way as she felt her cheeks burning with shame. "What?" she asked again when he just laughed at her.
"Were you planning to ditch school today, or should we turn around?"
She looked up and realized that she'd just driven past the road that led to the school. "Why didn't you say something?" she accused as she pulled a quick, and probably illegal, U-turn. The tops of her ears felt they were on fire now.
"I just wanted to see where you were heading." He shrugged. "I didn't say I wouldn't skip school. You just have to ask me first." His new grown-up voice seemed to fill all the space of the small car, and Violet found even that annoying.
"Shut up," she insisted, even though she couldn't help smiling now too. She couldn't believe she'd passed the entrance to her own school. "Now we really are going to be late. ~ Kimberly Derting

It is the greatest art of the devil to convince us he does not exist. ~ Charles Baudelaire

If the poet has pursued a moral objective, he has diminished his poetic force. ~ Charles Baudelaire

In order for the artist to have a world to express he must first be situated in this world, oppressed or oppressing, resigned or rebellious, a man among men. ~ Charles Baudelaire

Being only twelve, Klaus of course had not read all the books in the Baudelaire library, but he had read a great many of them and had retained a lot of the information from his readings. He knew how to tell an alligator from a crocodile. He knew who killed Julius Caesar. And he knew much about the tiny, slimy animals found at Briny Beach, which he was examining now. ~ Lemony Snicket

You must be drunk always. That is everything: the only question. Not to feel the horrible burden of Time that crushes your shoulders and bends you earthward, you must be drunk without respite. But drunk on what? On wine, on poetry, on virtue - take your pick. But be drunk. ~ Charles Baudelaire

This life is a hospital where every patient is possessed with the desire to change beds; one man would like to suffer in front of the stove, and another believes that he would recover his health beside the window. ~ Charles Baudelaire

Furthermore, the sense of passion or of power, of depth and vibrancy, feeling and vision, we take away from any work is the result of the intermingling, balance, play, and antagonism between these: it is the arrangement of blues, not any blue itself, which lets us see the mood it formulates, whether pensive melancholy or thoughtless delight, so that one to whom aesthetic experience comes easily will see, as Schopenhauer suggested, sadness in things as readily as smoky violet or moist verdigris. ~ William H Gass

As the mother of a small boy, she had developed a bad habit of carrying a little of everything in her purse, not to mention all the little treasures that Jeremy had given her - pretty rocks, a wilted violet, a ring he'd made from braided pine needles. The collection was a junky-looking mess. When the stranger picked up an unwrapped peppermint candy with more hair on it than stripes, Chloe wished the floor planks would separate and swallow her. His hard mouth twitched as he dropped the candy back in her purse along with an emergency tampon whose wrapper had nearly disintegrated. ~ Catherine Anderson

He whose thoughts, like skylarks, Toward the morning sky take flight - Who hovers over life and understands with ease The language of flowers and silent things! ~ Charles Baudelaire

Wild honey smells of freedom
The dust - of sunlight
The mouth of a young girl, like a violet
But gold - smells of nothing. ~ Anna Akhmatova

Jealous?' Luce asked. They were alone now. She threw her arms around his broad shoulders and looked deep into his violet eyes. 'Why would you be jealous?'
'Because,' he said, rubbing his hands across her back. 'Your dance card is full. For all eternity. ~ Lauren Kate

Roses are reddish
Violets are bluish
If it weren't for Christmas
We'd all be Jewish. ~ Benny Hill

Those men get along best with women who can get along best without them. ~ Charles Baudelaire

She's beautiful in a dramatic, romantic way. Her face could inspire gothic novels from long ago. If Helen of Troy's face could launch a thousand ships, Violet McQueen's face could launch a thousand stories, all filled with lust, heartache, and death. ~ Karina Halle

No monster vibration, no snake universe hallucinations. Many tiny jeweled violet flowers along the path of a living brook that looked like Blake's illustration for a canal in grassy Eden: huge Pacific watery shore, Orlovsky dancing naked like Shiva long-haired before giant green waves, titanic cliffs that Wordsworth mentioned in his own Sublime, great yellow sun veiled with mist hanging over the planet's oceanic horizon. No harm. ~ Allen Ginsberg