Dorian Electra Quotes & Sayings

Good manners forced her to say, somewhat grudgingly, "Your boots are very nice."
He grinned and regarded his footwear, which, though old, appeared very well-made. "Yes, they are, aren't they?"
"If a bit scuffed," she added.
"I shall polish them tomorrow," he promised, his somewhat superior look telling her that he refused to rise to her bait.
"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "That was uncalled for. Compliments should be freely given, without restrictions or qualifications. — Julia Quinn

The higher up you go, the more mistakes you are allowed. Right at the top, if you make enough of them, it's considered to be your style. — Fred Astaire

Virtue is chok'd with foul ambition — William Shakespeare

I'm one of the more pessimistic cats on the planet. I make Van Gogh look like a rodeo clown. — Dennis Miller

Jefferson thought schools would produce free men: we prove him right by putting dropouts in jail. — Benjamin Barber

Most of our desires are born and nurtured at other people's expense. — Michel De Montaigne

Brookfield, my correspondent, writes that last week he observed him in the moonlight at an advanced hour gazing up at his window."
"Whose window? Brookfield's?"
"Yes, sir. Presumably under the impression that it was the young lady's."
"But what the deuce is he doing at Twing at all?"
"Mr Little was compelled to resume his old position as tutor to Lord Wickhammersley's son at Twing Hall, sir. Owing to having been unsuccessful in some speculations at Hurst Park at the end of October."
"Good Lord, Jeeves! Is there anything you don't know?"
"I couldn't say, sir. — P.G. Wodehouse

There's nothing like the buzz of live theater. You put it out there and receive an instant reaction: laughing, crying, yelling, applauding. — Samantha Barks

Identity, though, is a difficult matter to tease out, especially in a time of flux. How to tell a spaniel from a retriever when all dogs have become middle-sized and brown? Should we go by some arbitrary blood quantum wherein half makes an Indian and forty-nine percent makes something else? Certainly forty-nine percent does not a whiteman make, at least not by the laws then prevailing in our state and most others. Or do we go by the old ways, the clans and the mothers, blood degree be damned? Or by what language someone dreams in or prays in or curses in? Or whether they cook bean bread and still tell the tales of Spearfinger and Uktena by the winter fire and go to water when they're sick? And what if they did all those things but were blond and square-headed as Norsemen? Or do we just hold a dry oak leaf to their cheeks and cull by whether they are darker or lighter? — Charles Frazier