Francesca's Quotes & Sayings
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Top Francesca's Quotes

I don't buy the tabloids, but you're surrounded by it all and people tell you things they've read. I'd be sitting on a train looking over someone's shoulder and thinking: That's familiar ... oh my God, it's me. — Francesca Annis

There are many of us who live alongside others, less fortunate, watching them go through everyday suffering for one reason or another, and we're not moving even our little finger to help them. It's in human nature, unfortunately: for the most part, the only people we genuinely care about are ourselves. However, once in a while we encounter different species, different kind of human beings among us: full of compassion, willing and wanting to help, and doing so with joy and happiness. Those are a rarity. But you know what, my dear? Being one of them is not a special calling- it's a choice. So what will you choose, huh? — Yoleen Valai

Maybe that's what happens with age, I thought. All your life you force yourself to forget people who have hurt you, but as you get older and weaker their memory surfaces again, like a bubble in the water. You have to surrender, because you feel to tired to fight it and push it down again. And maybe, unexpectedly, you find out that instead, of revamping your anger, those memories produce an unexpected sweetness. — Francesca Marciano

When Francesca had turned to him with those bottomless blue eyes and said, 'The baby was to have been yours in a way, too,' she'd shattered him to his very soul.
She didn't know.
She had no idea.
And as long as she remained in the dark about his feelings for her, as long as she couldn't understand why he had no choice but to hate himself for every step he took in John's shoes, he couldn't be near her. Because she was going to keep saying things like that. — Julia Quinn

There's nowhere to escape," Dobey said, jamming his hands into his pockets and staring into the Valley.
That's not true, baby," said Desiree.
She took his hands and pulled him to her, wrapping her legs around his torso. She could feel the sobs in both of them, but quiet, silenced by the kiss.
They could escape inside each other. — Francesca Lia Block

Also,' McCoy continued, 'this is the yearly reminder that our beloved scoreboard's birthday, the anniversary of its donation to the school, is coming up in just a few short weeks. So everyone get ready, prepare your offerings, and be ready to celebrate this great occasion!'
The PA system went quiet. I stared at the ceiling. Did he just say 'offerings?'
For a scoreboard? — Francesca Zappia

It's not that I literally think I'm a fearie. It's just that I feel so different from most people. And this idea of a race living underground in caverns, spending all their days dancing and playing the fiddle and eating flowers and reciting poetry and sharing their dreams, that to me sounds much more real than the way people live in this world, hating and fighting and wanting and hurting. — Francesca Lia Block

I maintain the rather old-fashioned view that this is my work and it's in the public arena, but that doesn't entitle everyone to know what happened at home before coming here. — Francesca Annis

Are you lovers?"
"Excuse me?"
"Do you mind my asking you?"
"Yes."
"It's off the record."
"Then why do you need to know?"
Daniel Moore smiled. A large, happy smile.
"Because I would like to ask you to dinner. — Francesca Marciano

Are you French?' I asked instead.
'Oui!'
Foreign. Foreign spy. French Communist Party acted on Stalin's instructions during part of World War II. French Communist spy.
Stop it stop it stop it
I turned to Art, a black kid who was a foot and a half taller than me and whose pecs were about to burst of his shirt and eat someone. I gave him a two on the delusion detector. I didn't trust those pecs.
'Hi,' he rumbled.
I waved weakly. — Francesca Zappia

Things aren't always what they seem
You're only seeing part of me
There's more than you could ever know
Behind the scenes. — Francesca Battistelli

I work at the deli counter. Have to give people their succulent, chemical-ridden salami and whatnot.'
I pictured Miles in a dark room, standing at a butcher's block with a large knife in one hand, a blood cow's leg steadied under the other, a huge Cheshire grin spreading over his face--
'I bet the customers love you,' I said. — Francesca Zappia

At the next Goat Guys show, the band came on stage with their wings, their haunches, their horns. The audience swooned at their feet.
Cherokee spun and spun until she was dizzy, until she was not sure anymore if she or the stage was in motion.
Afterwards two girls in lingerie and over-the-knee leather boots offered a joint to Raphael and Angel Juan. All four of them were smoking backstage when Cherokee and Witch Baby came through the door.
Witch Baby went and wriggled onto Angel Juan's lap. He was wearing the horns and massaging his temples. His face looked constricted with pain until he inhaled the smoke from the joint.
"Are you okay?" Witch Baby asked.
"My head's killing me. — Francesca Lia Block

Everything is about class in England, whether it's upper, lower or middle. Why should that be? — Francesca Annis

Stop calling me a Nazi." "Why should I?" Miles's hand came down on the desk. "Because the systematic slaughter of millions of people isn't funny! — Francesca Zappia

Maybe that's normal. The things you care most about are the ones that leave the biggest holes. — Francesca Zappia

I do think it's important to live in the present because in that way you won't be living in a state of regret. — Francesca Annis

My parents were hugely supportive like that. I was always the best - it's so embarrassing, isn't it? I was always the best at everything. — Francesca Annis

I met you at the cornerstone on the highway to bedlam./Walked with you to the pinnacle, along that ledge to hell,/Traveled along the passageway of all things aching,/But would crawl with you if you wanted me to/On the steeple point to hope./So we can tip the stars and hold the moon,/Graze the sun, but make it soon. — Melina Marchetta

The first thing I noticed about East Shoal High School was that it didn't have a bike rack. You know a school is run by stuck-up sons of bitches when it doesn't even have a bike rack.
I shoved Erwin behind the blocky green shrubs lining the school's front walk and stepped back to make sure the tires and handlebars were hidden. I didn't expect anyone to steal, touch, or notice him, since his rusty diarrhea color made people subconsciously avert their eyes, but I felt better knowing he was out of harm's way. — Francesca Zappia

It's so sick," Duck said. "I nicked myself shaving that last night at home, and I saw my own blood and I thought, How could I live in a world where this exists - where love can become death? Even if the doctor says we're okay, how could we go on watching people die?"
Duck buried his face against Dirk's shoulder and the streetlamp light shone in through the window, lighting up Duck's hair.
Dirk stroked Duck's head. "I don't know. But we've got to be together," he said. — Francesca Lia Block

No one noticed Witch Baby as she went back inside the cottage, into the room she and Cherokee shared.
Cherokee's side of the room was filled with feathers, crystals, butterfly wings, rocks, shells and dried flowers. there was a small tepee that Coyote had helped Cherokee make. The walls on Witch Baby's side of the room were covered with newspaper clippings - nuclear accidents, violence, poverty and disease. Every night, before she went to bed, Witch Baby cut out three articles or pictures with a pair of toenail scissors and taped them to the wall. they make Cherokee cry.
"Why do you want to have those up there?" Weetzie asked. "You'll both have nightmares. — Francesca Lia Block

I used to tell your mother she looked like Sophia Lauren." He looks at me, frowning, and then it registers.
"Oh God, some guy's using that line on you, isn't he?"
"Not just 'some guy'." I tell him. "The guy. — Melina Marchetta

There is a law somewhere that says that when one person is thoroughly smitten with the other, the other must unavoidably be smitten as well. Amor ch'a null'amato amar perdona. Love, which exempts no one who's loved from loving, Francesca's words in the Inferno. Just wait and be hopeful. I was hopeful, though perhaps this was what I had wanted all along. To wait forever. — Andre Aciman

Like in the paintings, there has to be moments that are completely right to be able to feel how wrong it is when the space gets flattened or the space collapses. It's the same with the technique in the sculptures: for some to feel really wrong, you have to have parts be really right. — Francesca DiMattio

She wears a Val Surf T-shirt and boys' boxer shorts and she has a boy's phone number scrawled on her hand. Part of her wants to spit on it and rub it off, and part of her wishes it was written in huge numbers across her belly, his name in gang letters, like a tattoo. — Francesca Lia Block

You'll have to take me to some museums, he said. He was being the young man on the road, following the sun because gray weather made him suicidal, writing his poetry in his mind in diners and gas station men's rooms across the country. — Francesca Lia Block

The marriage of a Jewish son is a bittersweet prospect. There is relief, always, that he has navigated the tantalizing and plentiful assemblies of non-Jewish women to whom the children of the Diaspora are inevitably exposed: from the moment he enters secondary school there is the constant anxiety that a blue-eyed Christina or Mary will lure him away from the tribe. Jewish men are widely known to be uxorious in all the most advantageous ways. And so each mother fears that, whether he be short and myopic, boorish or stupid or prone to discuss his lactose intolerance with strangers, whether he be blessed with a beard rising almost to meet his hairline, he is still within the danger zone. Somewhere out there is a shiksa with designs on her son. Jewish men make good husbands. It is the Jewish woman's blessing as a wife, and her curse as a mother. — Francesca Segal

He's never asked about her depression in the past, just knew it was there like a big black blob over her head. In Year Eleven they thought it was a one-off because her mother had been sick, but he had seen it once or twice again. Francesca knew the signs and he could tell she fought it with everything she had inside of her. — Melina Marchetta

Under the twinkling trees was a table covered with Guatemalan fabric, roses in juice jars, wax rose candles from Tijuana and plates of food - Weetzie's Vegetable Love-Rice, My Secret Agent Lover Man's guacamole, Dirk's homemade pizza, Duck's fig and berry salad and Surfer Surprise Protein Punch, Brandy-Lynn's pink macaroni, Coyote's cornmeal cakes, Ping's mushu plum crepes and Valentine's Jamaican plantain pie. Witch Baby's stomach growled but she didn't leave her hiding place. Instead, she listened to the reggae, surf, soul and salsa, tugged at the snarl balls in her hair and snapped pictures of all the couples. — Francesca Lia Block

Made you breakfast. Are you feeling okay? You look a little gray." I grunt. Morning is the devil's time. — Francesca Zappia

My mother said, "kiss him, darling, it's easy so natural" and I thought to myself, not with lips of stone, dear mother, not with lips of stone — Francesca Lia Block

I stood there looking stupid, because that's what I do when I'm accused of something I didn't do. Forget making a case or, you know, denying that I'd done it.
Denying hadn't helped me in the past. — Francesca Zappia

For a long moment there was only the sound of her soft, half-gasping little breaths, and the thud of his heart, loud in his ears. He had never felt this ... this liberation, this unfettered contentment. Not with another woman, not after a hard day of accomplishment, not after a brilliant business maneuver, not even after beating his brothers at anything. His body was wrung out with physical satisfaction, his mind fely fogged and sluggish, but his head ...
'If this be madness,' came Francesca's weak voice from behind the shining veil of her hair, 'lead me to Bedlam.'
'Perhpas tomorrow. I don't think I can make it further than the bed. — Caroline Linden

It's not that I think I'm ugly, I just don't think about what I look like. I don't live out there. If I had my way, I wouldn't blook like anything at all. I would be a free-floating consciousness that can also somehow draw. I don't care how I look. I don't want to care. — Francesca Zappia

She's tired and leans her head on his shoulder, which is the resting place for all their heads, but when Justine and Siobhan and Francesca use his body so shamelessly he doesn't feel the need to turn his head and press his mouth against their hair. — Melina Marchetta

It was strange. She would have thought that she'd sense John's presence, feel him in the air, see him in the surroundings they'd shared for two years. But instead, he was simply gone, and the influx of women had changed the tone of the house entirely. Francesca supposed that was a good thing; she needed the support of women right now.
But it was odd, living among women. There were more flowers now - vases everywhere, it seemed. And there was no longer any lingering smell of John's cheroot, or the sandalwood soap he'd favored.
Kilmartin House now smelled of lavender and rose-water, and every whiff of it broke Francesca's heart. — Julia Quinn

It's funny, this thing about happiness. It's a commodity that was imported from America in the Fifties. I see myself simply as living my life ... I feel it's pushing your luck to define how happy you are. — Francesca Annis

The rest of the year, I wondered if the point of Christmas was just spending money and getting fat and opening gifts. Indulging.
But when Christmas finally comes, and that warm, tingly, mints-and-sweaters-and-fireplace-fires feeling gathers in the bottom of your stomach, and you're lying on the floor with all the lights off but the ones on the Christmas tree, and listening to the silence of the snow falling outside, you see the point. For that one instance in time, everything is good in the world. It doesn't matter if everything isn't actually good. It's the one time of the year when pretending is enough. — Francesca Zappia

In films people basically work for the camera, you know, and that's why actors can hate each other and not be speaking to each other and still look as if they're in love because really they're loving the camera loving them. — Francesca Annis

Think about the word destroy. Do you know what it is? De-story. Destroy. Destory. You see. And restore. That's re-story. Do you know that only two things have been proven to help survivors of the Holocaust? Massage is one. Telling their story is another. Being touched and touching. Telling your story is touching. It sets you free. — Francesca Lia Block

Roman's wife Sharon Tate had been murdered by Charles Manson the year before, but Roman had been through so much leaving the Warsaw ghetto that he was very strong and private. — Francesca Annis

Fat bitch," Kessa murmured as the door scraped closed behind Mrs. Stone.
"She meant well, Francesca. And you see, everyone thinks you're too thin."
"Since when is Mrs. Stone an authority on appearance. I've heard you say a thousand times that she looks like an old hooker."
"I never said anything of the sort. What I said was that she wears too much makeup and her clothes are indiscreet."
"Which means she looks like an old hooker. Well, if that's the way a woman is supposed to look, I'd rather be too skinny." Kessa felt a flash of pleasure at the argument. Just let her mother try to push food into her now. — Steven Levenkron

It's scary to become a woman in this world. We have to understand that some of the messages we get, messages that we are not enough, are there to keep our power in check. We can't buy into these messages. — Francesca Lia Block

Casting is very instinctual. I really like to meet people. To me, it's about their essence more than their audition. — Francesca Gregorini

That was when I cut my arms with a razor blade as a means of creative expression. I only did it lightly, just grazing the skin, to see the way the blood would bleed out, to make myself look tougher. Not like some of those kids who keep going deeper and deeper, wondering what they look like down to the bone, because it's a world that's so close and yet so far and so dangerous and so much their own. The only world that is their own. — Francesca Lia Block

Writing is literally transformative. When we read, we are changed. When we write, we are changed. It's neurological. To me, this is a kind of magic. — Francesca Lia Block

When people say ceramics is therapeutic and seductive, I think it's really about the wheel. Nothing I've done has that feeling; I feel like I'm fighting with the material the whole time. It doesn't want to be vague. It doesn't want to be asymmetrical. It doesn't want to have different clays combined. It doesn't want to do any of the things I make it do. — Francesca DiMattio

I don't really have an image of myself. Now, is that true? Well, maybe I do and it's different, which is why I get shocked when I see how other people experience me. I see myself primarily in a domestic setting. — Francesca Annis

Sometimes she wore Levi's with white-suede fringe sewn down the legs and a feathered Indian headdress, sometimes old fifties' taffeta dresses covered with poetry written in glitter, or dresses made of kids' sheets printed with pink piglets or Disney characters. — Francesca Lia Block

Would you like tickets for tonight's tour? (Andrei)
Like another hole in my head. (Esperetta)
That's American slang for 'no thank you. (Francesca)
Strange. When I was in New York it was slang for 'no fucking way.' (Andrei) — Sherrilyn Kenyon

It's not easy to give up something you've had all your life. — Francesca Marciano

What I love is when I'm in the theater with audiences and I hear them laugh. That's such a relief to me. They're going on the ride and they're allowing themselves to enjoy it, even though we're traversing some dark waters. — Francesca Gregorini

I didn't have the luxury of taking reality for granted. And I wouldn't say I hated people who did, because that's just about everyone. I didn't hate them. They didn't live in my world.
But that never stopped me from wishing I lived in theirs. — Francesca Zappia

My body gets excited without my permission, and it's not okay. It's out of control. I don't like out of control, but I like Wallace. — Francesca Zappia

Ugster vinyl pumps, Partridge Family records, plastic daisy jewelry, old postcards ... It's a magpie Christmas market. — Francesca Lia Block

It's not so much the dressing up, but I love the idea of moving and existing in a different time. — Francesca Annis

Everyone's interesting if you stare at them long enough. — Francesca Zappia

You have to be careful not to let your fear stop you doing things. It's very exciting to test yourself. — Francesca Annis

Let's not be afraid of anything that can't really hurt us. — Francesca Lia Block

The more you walk in relationship with the Lord, the more you learn to trust him. I'm learning not to focus so much on the issues I think are so big right now-our bus has broken down, or someone said something that frustrated me. I'm learning to slowly let things roll off my back, to say, 'Hey, God knew about this before it happened and He's got a way out or a plan better than mine.' I've learned to stop freaking out and just trust that God knows what he's doing. He's not going to leave me in a bad place because He never has before. — Francesca Battistelli

Why do I feel like something's missing in my life without them and they don't feel the same about me? — Melina Marchetta

Now we come to the passage. You can just see a little peep of the passage in Looking-glass House, if you leave the door of our drawing room wide open: and it's very like our passage as far as you can see, only you know it may be quite different on beyond. — Francesca Woodman

It's rough to be mugged all the time, to have your place broken into all the time. You can buy a building for very little, but then the building has a fire and you have no money, so you have to fix it all yourself. — Francesca DiMattio

Blood Brothers! I've always wanted to play Linda and when I'm old enough, Mrs. Johnston. I would love it if Cameron Mackintosh brought back Oliver! as I would love to get the chance play Nancy as well.It's also been an ambition of mine to create a role in an original cast - and in the long term I would love a career in television! So much to do ... so little time!! — Francesca Jackson

So I ring Justine Kalinsky and I say, "It's Francesca Spinelli," and she says, "Francesca, you've got to stop using last names. How are you doing?" and I say "I feel like shit", and I don't know how it happens, but by eight o'clock that night I'm lying next to her on the couch with Siobhan and Tara and we're eating junk food and watching a Keanu movie. And I want to stay on that couch for the rest of my life. — Melina Marchetta

I'm not quite sure what a normal life is. Surely everyone's life is normal to them? — Francesca Martinez

She could have dropped you both off. whar's the worst she can do? cry hysterically?"
the gears on the ute get stuck at the lights and will pushes tom's hand out of the way and and shoves it into the correct gear.
"it wasn't her" he mutters after a moment.
"sorry?" tom says.
"she didn't cry"
"then what?"
it's too quiet except for the quiet for the crap engine sounding like a lawn mower.
"i cried"
luca bursts out laughing beside will.
"yeah, well i did" will says. "And it's not the thing you want to do in front of a bunch on engineers. — Melina Marchetta

Just like any woman, ... we weave our stories out of our bodies. Some of us through our children, or our art; some do it just by living. It's all the same. — Francesca Lia Block

It's Tolstoy, by the way," I say as I open the door.
He turns around. "What?"
Shut up, I tell myself. Shut up.
"The writer of Anna Karenina. Not Trotsky. Trotsky was a revolutionary who was stabbed with a
pickax in Mexico in 1940. But I can understand how the T thing could confuse you. — Melina Marchetta

I'm sorry. I don't know how many times to tell you this for you to know it," I continued. "Francesca ... the night you stayed with me was the best night of my life. I've never felt more alive, more loved, happier, than when I hold you in my arms. Seeing your face makes my heart beat faster, in a good way, and I feel this calmness come over me. I don't know why, but it's always been this way with you. I understand if you can't forgive me, and I know you could do better, but I'm going to try my damnedest to make it up to you when I get out of here. I don't care if it takes a year, or ten, or even twenty. I will make you see how much I care. — Felicia Tatum

Gabriel? Are you implying Gabriel had something to with Thompson's death?" Francesca sounded somewhere between outraged and amused. "You can't be serious, Brice."
"He crushed his hand, Francesca. Your Gabriel did that. Crushed his fist with one hand. I watched him do it and he wasn't even straining. I never even saw him come into the room. He was just there. There's something not quite right about him. His eyes. They aren't human. He's not human."
Francesca stared at him wide-eyed. "Not human? As in what? A phantom? A ghost that flies through the air? A gorilla? What? Maybe he lifts weights. Maybe he's strong because he lifts weights and his adrenaline was pumping. What are you saying? — Christine Feehan

MirkerLurker: I thought the characters were the reason anyone read Monstrous Sea.
rainmaker: You mean like, shipping?
MirkerLurker: No, not shipping - shipping's great, and I do it all the time, but I mean... the characters themselves. The struggles they have to go through, and when you really love them, how much they affect you. When the characters are good, they make you care about everything else. That's why I draw them. It probably sounds dumb, but they're like real people to me. And this will probably sound worse, but sometimes I like them better than real people. I can empathize with characters. Real people are harder. — Francesca Zappia

Here you go on this long long dream. Don't even try to wake up. Just let it go on until it is over. You will learn many things. Just relax and observe because there is pain and that's it mostly and you aren't going to be able to escape no matter what. Eventually it will all be over anyway. Good luck. — Francesca Lia Block

The circus tent was flowing pale in the rain like a fleshy flower lit from within. It seemed to bloom in the downpour. Drops of rain caught on Rafe's eyelashes, blinding him as the circus light struck them. He groped for the flap, that slit in the fabric that would reveal her to him.
She was on the rope again, her skirt flashing with tiny mirrors, hair braided with petals. He looked up at her, dizzy with it, seeing her face framed in the parasol. There were bluish shadows around her eyes. — Francesca Lia Block

Today I will pursue Francesca. And she will run if she knows what's good for her. — J.L. Vallance

She wasn't crying at all. This was what scared him the most. Where had she locked up the things he'd seen her feeling that day when she heard? She wasn't that big a girl to hold all of it - to hold her brother's life and his death inside of her. To hold all his long-limbed raging tidal motion and all the loss of that. — Francesca Lia Block

Part of me wanted to swoon into nothing, but the other women's bones were talking. I didn't see the bones but I knew they were there, under the house. The little runaway bones of skinny, hungry girls who didn't think they were worth much - anything - so they stayed after the party was over and let Derrick Blue tell them his stories. He probable didn't even have to use much force on most of them. — Francesca Lia Block

That left Francesca to slink into the chair opposite us. My feeling of superiority was short-lived, however, when she settled herself down and then crossed her legs.
I didn't need a mirror to know my whole face had just turned red. With a hemline up to her thighs that gesture didn't leave anything to the imagination. Bones curled his fingers around mine and squeezed. His hand was still warmed from our contact moments ago. That's how fast he had to grab me again to keep me sitting where I was instead of yanking off my jacket to make her a pair of panties. — Jeaniene Frost

I think you live a fuller life with someone else, you know, you're firing on all cylinders. It can be a nightmare at times, we all know that, but nevertheless in the end I think to have someone else's input on anything - a book, a meal, your children, life, a walk - is fantastic. — Francesca Annis

Grandma Fifi had two friends named Martin and Merlin who were afraid in a way Dirk didn't want to be. They were both very handsome and kind and always brought candies and toys when they came over for tea and Fifi's famous pastries. But as much as Dirk liked Martin and Merlin he knew he was different from them. They talked in voices as pale and soft as the shirts they wore and they moved as gracefully as Fifi did. Their eyes were startled and sad. They had been hurt because of who they were. Dirk didn't want to be hurt that way. He wanted to be strong and to love someone who was strong; he wanted to meet any gaze, to laugh under the brightest sunlight and never hide. — Francesca Lia Block

It's a criminal's playground in Humbridge city, but which gangs will battle it out to become Humbridge police's 'most wanted'? Who knows? Maybe there'll be a joint alliance in which Humbridge police would have to follow their instincts to catch these cunning criminals. It's the eighteenth century and crime is high, but Humbridge was never prepared for what's to come. — Francesca Caines

There is a small monster in my brain that controls my doubt.
The doubt itself is a stupid thing, without sense or feeling, blind and straining at the end of a long chain. The monster though, is smart. It's always watching, and when I am cmpletely sure of myself, it unchains the doubt and lets it run wild. even when I know it's coming, I can't stop it. — Francesca Zappia

rainmaker: Weird, I didn't know you had such a thing for timid guys.
MirkerLurker: Really does it for me when a guy is paralyzed with fear on a regular basis
.
rainmaker: Aw. Sad.
MirkerLurker: What's sad?
rainmaker: That it would never work between us. I'm too courageous. — Francesca Zappia

My parents didn't grow up here or anything. They chose to live in this nowhere town. Why? Because it was named after Hannibal of Carthage. Their basic train of thought was this: Hannibal's Rest? And we're naming our child after Alexander the Great? MARVELOUS. Ah, the history, it tickles.
Sometimes I wanted to beat my parents over the head with a frying pan. — Francesca Zappia

There is no force in high school more powerful than one person's blunt disagreement. — Francesca Zappia

Aside from the obvious, Francesca, what do you want in return for supplying information?" Bones asked, getting back to the subject. "You to take me," she replied at once. "Not gonna happen!" I spat, squeezing him possessively. Three sets of widened eyes fixed on me. That's when I realized that what I had a firm grip on was no longer his hand. — Jeaniene Frost

On the way to Santa Cruz Dirk and Duck stopped along the coast to surf. They stopped so many times to surf and eat (they finished the avocado sandwiches in the first fifteen minutes and bought sunflower seeds, licorice, peaches, and Foster's Freeze soft ice cream along the way) that they didn't get to Santa Cruz until late that night. — Francesca Lia Block

It takes forever to make a film. It's a gargantuan thing of untold effort. — Francesca Gregorini

Oh, God, Francesca,Now there's a good one.Why?Why? Why?" He gave each one a different tenor, as if he were testing out the word, asking it to
different people.
"Why?" he asked again, this time with increased volume
as he turned around to face her.
"Why? It's
because I love you, damn me to hell. Because I've always loved you. Because I loved you when you
were with John, and I loved you when I was in India, and God only knows I don't deserve you, but I
love you, anyway."
Francesca sagged against the door.
"How's that for a witty little joke?" he mocked. "I loveyou. I loveyou, my cousin's wife. I loveyou, the
one woman I can never have. I loveyou, Francesca Bridger-ton Stirling. — Julia Quinn

At first we raced through space, like shadows and light; her rants, my raves; her dark hair, my blonde; black dresses, white. She's a purple-black African-violet-dark butterfly and I a white moth. We were two wild ponies, Dawn and Midnight, the wind electrifying our manes and our hooves quaking the city; we were photo negatives of each other, together making the perfect image of a girl. — Francesca Lia Block

Sometimes he feels a pull towards Francesca. She was the reason he came into the group. It was her misery that united them and somehow her personality that kept them together when everyone split. She's the one that writes the letter to kept the world informed. She listens to the news every hour to make sure everyone's safe. So tonight he walks away even though she's moved forward to give him a hug. Because he wants to kiss her, and knows she'll hate him for it and that he'll hate himself. He knows it's for all the wrong reasons and that he'll end up thinking of Tara Finke and her Brazilian peacekeeper and will Trombal and how he doesn't do romance, but it eats the space between him and Francesca every time he's in the room with her. — Melina Marchetta

A lot of photography is making records of people, as objects, friends. It's like organizing a wardrobe - in terms of size etc. — Francesca Woodman

I'm the same weight now as I've always been-even before having children-but I have to say there's been a redistribution of the flesh! — Francesca Annis

I can feel the 60S looming. In my profession, I've just moved along with my age. By thinking in decades, rather than whether someone's 42 or 47, you can give yourself a whole 10 years to turn yourself around in. — Francesca Annis

Now there's a joy inside I can't contain
But even perfect days can end in rain
And though it's pouring down
I see You through the clouds
Shining on my face. — Francesca Battistelli