Fitchette House Quotes & Sayings

I turn my face and force the corners of my mouth up. There may even be a bit if eyelash fluttering going on. He just rolls his dark blue eyes at me, obviously not impressed - or maybe I just look like I have something stuck in my eye. Sometimes it would be nice to make use of some feminine wiles. I sigh and drop my shoulders. "Out."

"You're going to have to do better than that. You know I'm not supposed to let you out without an escort."

"Please. I can't breathe in here." I step forward, stare up into his face, and lower my voice. "Do you know Emily wanted me to come to sewing circle this morning? Can you even imagine?"

Flint's mouth rounds up into a smile and he coughs to cover his chuckle. "No, Jax. I can't possibly imagine you doing anything remotely feminine. — Theresa Kay

Part of the challenge of innovation is coming up with the problem to solve, not just its solution. — Scott Berkun

The truth doesn't lie. It's up in your face. It's in your conscience. It challenges your very being with the intention of cleaning you of sin and its influence. — Monica Johnson

A small, quiet, grassroots movement that starts with each of us saying, "My story matters because I matter." A movement where we can take to the streets with our messy, imperfect, wild, stretch-marked, wonderful, heartbreaking, grace-filled, and joyful lives. A movement fueled by the freedom that comes when we stop pretending that everything is okay when it isn't. A call that rises up from our bellies when we find the courage to celebrate those intensely joyful moments even though we've convinced ourselves that savoring happiness is inviting disaster. Revolution — Brene Brown

There are certain people whom one feels almost inclined to urge to hurry up and die so that their letters can be published. — Christopher Morley

I had a slight touch of Tourette's, which means you talk to yourself and bark and cry out at night. — Dan Aykroyd

Sometimes we feel we straddle two cultures; at other times, that we fall between two stools. — Salman Rushdie