Armoire Quotes & Sayings

The 'Family Ties' role was the first of many gay roles that I've ended up playing. I remember that I made them laugh, and it made me feel good, 'cause it really cracked them up. — Hank Azaria

And however it is that you think you still feel about me, I can assure you it's nothing more than a classic case of someone who wants the one thing she can't have. If you had me and got it out of your system, you'd realize the good boy's the one you really want. — Wendy Higgins

That's a lovely piece," Kat said, pointing at a Louise XV armoire near the fireplace.
The man raised his eyebrows. "Did you come to steal it?"
"Darn it," Kat said with a snap of her fingers."I knew I should have brought my big purse. — Ally Carter

I have terrible nightmares, you know. Every night when I come home from a long day's dying, I take off my skin and lay it nicely on my armoire. I take off my bones and hang them up on the hatstand. I set my scythe to washing on the old stove. I eat a nice supper of mouse-and-myrrh soup. Some nights I drink off a nice red wine. White does not agree with me. I lay myself down on a bed of lilies and still, I cannot sleep. — Catherynne M Valente

The internal machinery of life, the chemistry of the parts, is something beautiful. And it turns out that all life is interconnected with all other life. — Richard P. Feynman

Think for a moment of the great agents and engines of our civilization, and then think what shadowy ideas they all once were. The wheels of the steamship turned as swiftly as they do now, but as silent and unsubstantial as the motions of the inventor's thought; and in the noiseless loom of his meditation were woven the sinews of the printing-press, whose thunder shakes the world. — Edwin Hubbel Chapin

But, true, I've wept too much! Dawns break hearts./ Every moon is brutal, every sun bitter. — Arthur Rimbaud

I love you, Levi."
"Thank God for it because I love you too."
Her laugh was back in his house again. Her scent on his sheets.
Her crap on his bathroom counter and her stuff in the drawers in his armoire.
She lived in him and he had no plans to ever let that change.
It didn't matter that she was younger than he was. All that mattered was that she loved him and he loved her. The rest they could work out as time passed. She'd keep him in line. Decorate their house and fill it with music and love. And one day with children.
They had time, he realized. Time to be in love and be engaged. Time for her art and his job, time for weddings and honeymoons and nesting. She was his, forever. As deeply as he was hers.
Made the groveling worth it.

~~Sway — Lauren Dane

History is a tool used by politicians to justify their intentions. — Ted Koppel

Daily her tactics grew more sly and underhanded. Last night the audacious wench had picked the lock to his
chamber! Because he'd had the foresight to barricade the door with a heavy armoire, she'd then gone to his door in
the corridor and picked that lock. He'd been forced to escape out the window. Halfway down he'd slipped, crashed the last fifteen feet to the ground, and landed in a prickly bush. Since he'd not had time to don his trews, his
manly parts had taken the brunt of his abrupt entry into the bush, putting him in a foul mood indeed.
The wench sought to unman him before his long-anticipated wedding night. — Karen Marie Moning

I want her to be happy. It's worth sacrificing myself. -Eddie — Richelle Mead

To eat one's fill, eat until the exhaustion of the appetite, was the principal pleasure that the peasants dangled before their imagination, and one that they rarely realized in their lives.
They [the peasants] also imagined other dreams coming true, including the standard run of castles and princesses. But their wishes usually remained fixed on common objects in the everyday world. One hero gets "a cow and some chickens"; another, an armoire full of linens. A third settles for light work, regular meals, and a pipe full of tobacco. And when gold rains into the fireplace of a fourth, he uses it to buy "food, clothes, a horse, land." In most of the tales, wish fulfillment turns into a program for survival, not a fantasy of escape. — Robert Darnton

What bedrooms did you give to our guests?"
"The ones all the way ... way ... way on the other side of the manse."
He laughed at that, hugging her tightly for giving him that ability to indulge in humor once more.
"Then I'd say the bedroom with the old armoire you like should suffice."
"Yes, master," she teased, flicking her hand and sending them there. "Oops, one sec." She winked at him and snapped her fingers, the bottle of lotion suddenly in her hand.
"Show-off. You know, you are going to have to tell me how you do that."
"Well, first you pump this little thing on top, then the lotion - "
Legna yelped when he slapped his hand hard on her bottom, the blanket doing little to shield her from the sting of it.
"Gideon! Do not ever do that again!" she scolded.
"Not even if you beg me to?" he countered lecherously.
Legna laughed, unable to help herself.
"I hate you!"
"No, you do not," he insisted. "How many times do I have to tell you that? — Jacquelyn Frank

I had to do a Northern England accent once, and I didn't have much time, so I went and pored through YouTube. There are all sorts of resources out there. The Internet has made that much more affordable. Don't break your neck to spend your money. — Rose McIver

Tiptoeing silently up behind her in my stockinged feet, I shoved her headfirst into the armoire, and slammed the door on the heaving, shrieking mass beneath the pile of fallen dresses within. Turning the key in the door, I dropped it neatly into my pocket, mentally shaking hands with myself. Neat job, Beauchamp, I thought. All this political intrigue is teaching you things they never dreamt of in nursing school, no doubt about it. — Diana Gabaldon

Eight: the age of exploration, of ghosts and secret forays; the age at which a mystery lurks behind every curtain and every armoire opens into a magical world, which you may enter at any time, but who knows when you will return. — Carmen Posadas

He places the last pillow on the pile and looks at me. He jerks his head to the pile of pillows.
"I watched you die. I need to fuck you Mac."
The words slam into me like bullets taking my knees out. I lean back against a piece of furniture-an armoire I think. I really don't care. It holds me up. It wasn't a request. It was an acknowledgement of a requirement to make it from this moment to the next like I need a transfusion my body has been poisoned.
"Do you want me to " There is no purr or coyness or seduction in his voice. There is a question that needs an answer. Bare bones. That's what he's after. That's what he offers.
"Yes. — Karen Marie Moning

Society teaches us that everyone is entitled to their own opinion. The bill of rights informs us that we have the right to keep it to ourselves. — Brian Randleas

My parents did not discourage me but could not understand how I could make a living by art. Their idea of an artist was a person who was condemned to starvation. — Jacob Epstein