Golden Girl Quotes & Sayings

Remember a few years ago when they left Bea Arthur out of the death reel at the Oscars? Bea Arthur! How did they leave Bea Arthur out? She was in Mame; she was in All in the Family; she was in Maude; she was a Golden Girl, for God's sake! Bea was not only one of Hollywood's leading ladies, she was one of Hollywood's leading men! — Joan Rivers

Try not to laugh. To the girl with golden hair and beauty with no compare. Wait for me at midnight. Sit at your window, in your lovely pink chair and wait, my sweet. I'll find you there. C — J.B. Hartnett

I watched him walk away with sickness in my heart - though it was a pleasing kind of sickness, if such a thing exists. I mean to say that if you have experienced an evening more exciting than any in your life, you're sad to see it end; and yet you still feel grateful that it happened. In that brief encounter with the Chairman, I had changed from a lost girl facing a lifetime of emptiness to a girl with purpose in her life. Perhaps it seems odd that a casual meeting on the street could have brought about such change. But sometimes life is like that, isn't it? And I really do think if you'd been there to see what I saw, and feel what I felt, the same might have happened to you. — Arthur Golden

You'd be teary, too, yes you would be," he said, "if a girl and her bed had crashed into your head. — Renata Bowers

Who am I? Laia muttered to her invisible audience, and they knew the answer and told it to her with one voice. She was the little girl with scabby knees, sitting on the doorstep staring down through the dirty golden haze of River Street in the heat of late summer, the six-year-old, the sixteen-year-old, the fierce, cross, dream-ridden girl, untouched, untouchable. She was herself — Ursula K. Le Guin

Rosie hated her curly golden hair. When she was old enough to hold minimal conversations, the itsy-bitsy-cutesycoo sort of grown-ups would pull the soft ringlets gently and tell her what a pretty little girl she was. She would stare at this sort of grown-up and say, "I am not pretty. I am intelligent. And brave." The grown-ups usually thought this was darling, which only made her angry, perhaps partly because she was speaking the truth, although it was tricky to differentiate between "brave" and "foolhardy" at three or four years old. — Robin McKinley

But I cannot think only of the Red girl. When I see the moon, I think of the sun: Mustang burns in my thoughts. If Eo smelled of rust and soil, then the Golden girl is fire and autumn leaves. — Pierce Brown

It's so hard not to enjoy this because how can you put something so golden, a girl who can barely open her eyes or her mouth - how can you put something like that in front of them and expect them to be better people? — Courtney Summers

Everyone will say I'm insane, but I don't care, Rose. Is it insane to marry the girl I love? A girl with golden brown hair, with gifts of beauty and goodness and storytelling? — Melanie Dickerson

I can't help it. I'm thinking about sex. Sex with Will Haley. Sex in general. The thing is, I can't make my brain turn the idea into something sexy. Isn't that ridiculous? It's sex. It's inherently sexy. But not to me. Because in hazily lit movies, when the girl pulls her shirt up over her head, she stops being me. The hazily lit girl is never me. She has a flat golden stomach and cute little boobs, and you can see the boy falling for her. You can read it on his face. Under my shirt, there's no flat stomach, and there are no cute little boobs, and there's no hazy lighting. It's just a lot of me. Way too much of me. — Becky Albertalli

A poor girl may have an illusion that a prince will come and fetch her home. It is possible, some such cases have occurred. That the Messiah will come and found a golden age is much less probable. — Sigmund Freud

And now you have a small map of the princess's heart (hatred, sorrow, kindness, empathy), the heart that she carried down inside her as she went down the golden stairs and through the kitchen and, finally, just as the sky outside the castle began to lighten, down into the dark dungeon with the rat and the serving girl. — Kate DiCamillo

The dog looked nothing like the lonely mongrel in her stories. The bedraggled golden retriever halted where the bungalow walkway met the public sidewalk. Girl and beast regarded each other. She called to him, "Here, boy, here." He needed to be coaxed, but eventually he approached the porch and climbed the steps. Bibi stooped to his level to peer into his eyes, which were as golden as his coat. "You stink." The retriever yawned, as if his stinkiness was old news to him. He — Dean Koontz

All at once I felt so vain, like a girl posturing for the crowds as she walks along, only to discover the street is empty. — Arthur Golden

You really think that's where any of us are headed?" She actually gave him a grin, baring straight white teeth, her face lit by the golden glow of the dawn. It jarred him to realize that Brion had been right - this girl was absolutely gorgeous. "I'll see you in the darklands, Agallon. Save a demon or two for me. — Morgan Rhodes

The girl signed deeply and ever so slowly made her way down to the opposite end of the case. Using the metal tongs she passed over the golden yellow ladoo and reached for the darker pieces that Mrs. Singh usually set aside. I started to protest, but suddenly noticed the coldness in her eyes staring into mine. — Tracey M. Hook

jumped close, close enough to see blade marks scoring the surface. All those people, the brightly colored hats, gloves, and scarves. A couple, holding hands, laughing as they stumbled over the ice together. A girl with golden-blond hair, wearing a red skin suit and vest, was spinning, spinning, spinning until she blurred. Another couple with a little boy between them, their hands joined with his as he grinned in wonder. — J.D. Robb

Rainbows glimmered in the stream. Golden grass tangled along the bank where Vick ran and thought about the girl he loved. His boots left unnotched prints in the earth. — Ally Condie

Let us have "sweet girl graduates" by all means. They will be none the less sweet for a little wisdom; and the "golden hair" will not curl less gracefully outside the head by reason of there being brains within. — Thomas Huxley

The Marquess shrugged. "I'm a shadow. I do know I am a shadow, Iago. I know most of the time. It's only when I cannot bear how everyone looks at me down here that I make myself forget it. Shadows are the other side of yourself. I had longings to be good, even then. I was just stronger than my wanting. I'm stronger than anything, really, when I want to be." The Marquess's hair turned white as the snow. "Do you know, we're right underneath Springtime Parish? This place is the opposite of springtime. Everything past prime, boarded up for the season. Just above us, the light shines golden on daffodils full of rainwine and heartgrass and a terrible, wicked, sad girl I can't get back to. I don't even know if I want to. Do I want to be her again? Or do I want to be free? I come here to think about that. To be near her and consider it. I think I shall never be free. I think I traded my freedom for a better story. It was a better story, even if the ending needed work. — Catherynne M Valente

Active or ambitious women were not only rare but often evil. Wonder Woman flipped this paradigm by embodying the strength, assertiveness, and independence usually associated with bad girls and villains in a positive heroic light. The Golden Age Wonder Woman was a blatant rejection of the good girl/bad girl binary and even offered a critique of the good girl role. — Tim Hanley

Just to gloat at mum and dad's golden girl brought low. But — David Nicholls

The Golden stock ... ," Mustang murmurs. "How can you be so cold?"
"Little girl," Antonia sighs, "Gold is a cold metal. — Pierce Brown

she stands before him as a collection of clashing traits - the face of a girl with eyes that have seen Hell, the figure of a virgin with the body posture of experience, a complexion that demands dark hair with golden. — L.E. Modesitt Jr.

I go straight for Seinfeld, Modern Family, Friends, and Golden Girls. Those are my pillars of strength on TV. — Sara Bareilles

The scents of these three, for instance, were so distinct, though they were clearly a family: the dark girl more savory and the golden-haired one more honeylike and they woman sweetest of all- I could not place what flower it was she recalled to me, or what sweetmeat. — Margo Lanagan

When I think back about my immediate reaction to that redheads girl, it seems to spring from an appreciation of natural beauty. I mean the heart pleasure you get from looking at speckled leaves or the palimpsested bark of plane trees in Provence. There was something richly appealing to her color combination, the ginger snaps floating in the milk-white skin, the golden highlights in the strawberry hair. it was like autumn, looking at her. It was like driving up north to see the colors. — Jeffrey Eugenides

Golden girl, there you are. I'm singing for the crowd, the music's loud. I'm living my dream, riding the high, But I see you there, sunlight in your hair, And I'm ready to go, desperate to fly. Golden girl, there you are. Dancing for the crowd, the music's loud. I want you so bad. I can't look away. Later, you'll drop to your knees. You'll beg me please. And then you'll go, it's only your body I know. Golden girl, where'd you go? You're not there, with sunlight in your hair. I could have you in the bar or the back of my car, But never your heart. I'm falling apart. I'll drop to my knees, I'll beg you. Please. Please don't go. There's so much more I want to know. Eva, please. I'm on my knees. Golden girl, where'd you go? I'm singing for the crowd, the music's loud. And you're not there, with sunlight in your hair. Eva, please. I'm on my knees. — Sylvia Day

Her voice is full of money, ...
That was it. I'd never understood before. It was full of money- that was the inexhaustible charm that rose and fell in it, the jingle of it, the cymbals' song of it ... High in a white palace the king's daughter, the golden girl ... — F Scott Fitzgerald

I sung from an early age and I was always given nice parts in school musicals, but I definitely wasn't the golden girl. I didn't have the guts. You've got to have a real confidence in yourself to be like: "I'm gonna be a singer and write songs." I never thought it would go anywhere because it's so unattainable to be a singer. — Jessie Ware

Mira moved into the light like a sleepwalker, leaving Blue behind in the dust, the unused room, the past.
She thought of the fabled hundred years that cursed girls like her had slept, and how, after that much time, everything would be covered by a thick blanket of dust, including the princess. The intrepid prince would have to trust that something beautiful was hidden underneath. He'd kiss her and the first color to be revealed would be the chapped pink of her lips.
Her eyes went to Freddie, playing his guitar and lit by the sun. She couldn't picture him kissing a girl coated by dust - he was too alive for that.
He was golden. And she ... she was covered with death, with her grief over her parents. She'd tried to replace them with dreams, and she'd drifted through life in a haze, her eyes seeking ghosts instead of the world around her.
She was already asleep.
She had been for a long time. — Sarah Cross

You'll always be my friend, won't you Fred? Don't let me fuck this up. I need you in my life now. I need the golden eyed girl who can make me smile. — L. H. Cosway

Her first really great role, the one that cemented the "Jean Arthur character," was as the wisecracking big-city reporter who eventually melts for country rube Gary Cooper in Frank Capra's Mr. Deeds Goes to Town (1936). It was the first of three terrific films for Capra: Jean played the down-to-earth daughter of an annoyingly wacky family in Capra's rendition of Kaufman and Hart's You Can't Take It With You (1938), and she was another hard-boiled city gal won over by a starry-eyed yokel in Mr. Smith Goes to Washington (1939). "Jean Arthur is my favorite actress," said Capra, who had successfully worked with Stanwyck, Colbert and Hepburn. " ... push that neurotic girl ... in front of the camera ... and that whining mop would magically blossom into a warm, lovely, poised and confident actress." Capra obviously recognized that Jean was often frustrated in her career choice. — Eve Golden

The the glow become brighter: a holographic golden sickle with a few sheaves of wheat, rotating just above Meg McCaffrey.
A boy in the crowd gasped. 'She's a communist!'
A girl who'd been sitting at Cabin Four's table gave him a disgusted sneer. 'No, Damien, that's my mom's symbol. — Rick Riordan

I felt a bit silly giving this advice to a girl who regularly fought monsters with golden swords, but I had promised Bill Nye the Science Guy I would always promote safe laboratory practices. — Rick Riordan

So here's the deal:
I speak up in class, I get sent to office. Megan speaks up in class, she's a "strong, assertive model student."I post a few flyers saying that the vending machines on school property are a sign that our school has sold out to corporate-industrial establishment, I get (what else?) Saturday detention. Megan starts a campaign to serve local foods in the lunchroom (oh, and can we please maybe get rid of the soda machines?) and the local newspaper does a write-up about her.
She's like me, only not. Not like me at all. She's the golden girl and I'm ... tarnished.
So forgive me if I hate her a little. — Katie Alender

Look."
The others seemed confused. Then the glow became brighter: a holographic golden sickle with a few sheaves of wheat, rotating just above Meg McCaffrey.
A boy in the crowd gasped. "She's a communist!"
A girl who'd been sitting at Cabin Four's table gave him a disgusted sneer. "No, Damien, that's my mom's symbol." Her face went slack as the truth sank in. "Uh, which means ... it's her mom's symbol. — Rick Riordan

My libido was like a Golden Retriever puppy, ready to jump all over him and lick his face.
Down, girl. — Sarina Bowen

Well," Adam said, leaning back and sighing, "I've got that out of my system now. I can leave you alone for the rest of the day. I always say, if you kiss the girl at the start of the date, it takes the pressure off."
"Oh, really, is that what you always say?" I said.
"Always. It's my golden rule. I've literally been saying it since ... since I met you again in Princeton. Well, I suppose it came a bit after that. I've
definitely been saying it all morning. — Kate Le Vann

She remembered that once, when she was a little girl, she had seen a pretty young woman with golden hair down to her knees in a long flowered dress, and had said to her, without thinking, "Are you a princess?" The girl had laughed very kindly at her and asked her what her name was. Blanche remembered going away from her, led by her mother's hand, thinking to herself that the girl really was a princess, but in disguise. And she had resolved that someday, she would dress as though she were a princess in disguise. — Regina Doman

Bear with me G-Harrison because this is going to be a long speech. I've always had this feeling that the world is not enough and I won't be happy in life unless I hold hands with a girl who has a golden eye and a gold finger; I beat the living daylights out a guy called Dr No; I get a postcard from my friend who lives in Russia which reads 'From Russia with love'; I spend some time working for her majesty's secret service; I play the Thunderball Super Spud lottery; I meet a guy called Moonraker; I finally get a licence to kill, which I applied for months ago; I buy a house with a view to kill for and I get a pet octopus called Octopussy. If only I lived twice and tomorrow never died, maybe then I would get a chance to fulfil my dreams. — Michael Diack

Turtledoves They walk along together, A couple holding hands And never caring whether The sight of them demands Responses less than seemly: A point, a laugh, a stare. Her hazel eyes are dreamy; He loses himself there. Time melts away, revealing A boy and girl in love. With poplars for a ceiling, Heralded by doves, They stroll the cobbled pathway, A golden life ahead. The vision fades. It's today, And standing there instead, Forever by his side, Is the woman he adores. He cherishes his bride More deeply than before In spite of all the creases, The creaks and silver strands. He knows nothing but peace as They wander, holding hands. Erin McCarty — Jack Canfield

And thus they form a perfect group; he walks back two or three paces, selects his point of sight, and begins to sketch a hurried outline. He has finished it before they move; he hears their voices, though he cannot hear their words, and wonders what they can be talking of. Presently he walks on, and joins them.
'You have a corpse there, my friends?' he says.
'Yes; a corpse washed ashore an hour ago.'
'Drowned?'
'Yes, drowned; - a young girl, very handsome.'
'Suicides are always handsome,' he says; and then he stands for a little while idly smoking and meditating, looking at the sharp outline of the corpse and the stiff folds of the rough canvas covering.
Life is such a golden holiday to him young, ambitious, clever - that it seems as though sorrow and death could have no part in his destiny. ("The Cold Embrace") — Mary Elizabeth Braddon

He slouched back in his seat, looking tired, and leaned his face on his shoulder to look at me while he played with my hair. He started to hum a song, and then, after a few bars, he sang it. Quietly, sort of half-sung, half-spoken, incredibly gentle. I didn't catch all the words, but it was about his summer girl. Me. Maybe his forever girl. His yellow eyes were half-lidded as he sang, and in that golden moment, hanging taut in the middle of an icecovered landscape like a single bubble of summer nectar, I could see how my life could be stretched out in front of me. — Maggie Stiefvater

Blowin' Free'

I thought I had a girl
And all because I seen her
Her hair was golden brown
Blowin' free like a cornfield

She was far away
I found it hard to reach her
She told me you can try
But it's impossible to find her

In my dreams everything was all right
In your schemes you can only try

I thought I had a girl
And all because I seen her
Her hair was golden brown, yeah yeah
Blowin' free like a cornfield — Wishbone Ash

When I was first at court and he was the young husband of a beautiful wife, he was a golden king. They called him the handsomest prince in Christendom, and that was not flattery. Mary Boleyn was in love with him, Anne was in love with him, I was in love with him. There was not one girl at court, nor one girl in the country, who could resist him. Then he turned against his wife, Queen Katherine, a good woman, and Anne taught him how to be cruel. — Philippa Gregory

I can give you a girl's perspective," Eve offered with a smile. "I'm totally not into the girl-on-girl thing, but I know an attractive pussy when I see one. — Lexi Blake

It was a lot of fun doing 'Felicity.' She had just won the Golden Globe, and she was huge at the time, but she was like the nicest girl ever. As a guest star on a show, you get on the set and you feel out of place, but she was so nice to me and really cool. — Simon Rex

I still havent got over the fact that I wont be the only person seeing the film. Im used to watching home videos of when I was little, singing Barbie Girl and stuff, and nobody sees them except the family. Now, there will be loads of people going to see The Golden Compass. At least, we hope they will. — Dakota Blue Richards

Sometimes he caught a glimpse of a girl with long golden hair running away from him. He always followed, desperate to catch up with her, desperate to explain ... He couldn't remember what he needed to explain. Don't be afraid, he called to her. Please, don't be afraid. But she continued to run, and he continued to follow her through a landscape filled with twisting roads that ended nowhere and caverns that were strewn with bones and splashed with blood. Down, always down. — Anne Bishop

You look at me and see the girl,who lives inside the golden world,but don't believe, that's all there is to see,you'll never know the real me. — Mariah Carey

Here you are ... A beautiful girl with nothing to be ashamed of ... And yet you are afraid to look at me. Someone has been cruel to you ... Or perhaps life has been cruel.
"I don't know sir" I said, Though of course I knew perfectly well. — Arthur Golden

I'd like to sit there, I said softly to the girl sitting in front of the other mirror. She scampered.
I took over her abandoned make-up and painted my face. Red cheeks, to attract hungry vampyre glances. Black liquid eyeliner and mascara, to draw attention away from my bitter eyes. My silky-thin, raven hair, undone in waves over my bare shoulders. The magenta shade of apple gloss on my lips, to make them plump and inviting. Finally, a strapless golden dress that hugged my hips and not much lower. I stood up, feeling the cold air slide down the bare skin of my back like fingers, and panicked. I couldn't wear something like this! Not without a cardigan! A light dress jacket, at least!
I took a gulp of Amrit's wine and detached myself from the fretting child in my head. Then I strode from the sleeping chambers. — Heather Heffner

Practically, speaking up against street harassment is not about being a hero, getting credit points to be in the good books of a girl or a chance to impress anyone. It is about making sure that everyone has the right to enjoy that spring breeze, golden clouds and chirping without feeling uncomfortable. — Shahla Khan

I'm that person who owns all of the seasons on DVDs, including the Lifetime intimate portraits showcasing The Golden Girls. I am a massive fan. I think I'm Dorothy. She's my favorite. — Sara Bareilles

However much I might please Henry, he was still her boy - her lovely indulged spoilt golden boy. He might summon me or any other girl to his room, without disturbing the constant steady affection between them which had sprung from her ability, long ago, to love this man who was more foolish, more selfish, and less of a prince than she was a princess. — Philippa Gregory

Her eyes pleaded with him to understand, to try. Under that gaze, Eanrin had no option but to sit and stare at the scribbles in the dust, stare with all the intensity a cat can muster. His pupils dilated until the golden irises were like rings of eclipsed sunfire. Imraldera watched him, chewing her bottom lip and waiting.
At last the cat lashed his tail and raised his whiskered face to her. I'm sorry, my girl. It looks to me like the Greater Stick Bug pursues the Lesser Stick Bug over the back of a giant alligator. Can't make a thing of it otherwise. — Anne Elisabeth Stengl

I keep telling myself
That you're
just a girl.
Another leaf blown across my path
Destined to pass on
And shrivel into yourself
Like all the others.
Yet despite my venom
You refuse to wither
Or fade.
You remain golden throughout,
And in your gaze I am left to wonder if it is me alone
Who feels the fall. — Kelly Creagh

What could she do, bound as she was by the tyranny of silence? She dared not explain the girl to herself ... that wilfully selfish tyranny of silence evolved by a crafty old ostrich of a world for its own well-being and comfort. The world hid its head in the sands of convention, so that seeing nothing it might avoid Truth ... if silence is golden it is also in this case, very expedient. — Radclyffe Hall

The prettiest of them all is a girl who is pretty on the inside. — Arthur Golden

You're a beautiful and wonderful and sensual and strong golden fawn, she says, followed by That was supposed to say "my best friend," but my phone... — Emily Henry

Max was fascinated by the woman and more than a little curious about what she might be up to. Sarah Johnson had come from a two-parent, affluent home with a squeaky-clean past. She'd been the golden girl, high school cheerleader, valedictorian and had apparently glided through college without making a ripple, coming out with a bachelor of arts degree in literature. She'd married well, had six children and then one winter night, for some unknown reason, she'd driven her car into the Yellowstone River. Her body was never found. Because there were no skid marks on the highway, it had looked like a suicide. Foul play had never been suspected.
That was twenty-two years ago. Now she was back - with no memory of those years or why she'd apparently tried to take her own life.
Max wanted this story more than he wanted a hot cup of coffee this morning. — B. J. Daniels

It is my dearest hope that one day I shall be the one to discover the GUT-the Grand Unified Tale, the one which will bind together all our Theorems and Laws, leaving out not one Orphan Girl or Youngest Son or Cup of Life and Death. Not one Descent or Ascent, not one Riddle or Puzzle or Trick. One perfect golden map that can guide any soul to its desire and back again. I will be the one to do it, I know it. I hope I know it. I know I hope it. — Catherynne M Valente

At the heart of his paper was the notion that fairy tales relieved us of our need for order and allowed us impossible, irrational desires. Magic was real, that was his thesis. This thesis was at the very center of chaos theory - if the tiniest of actions reverberated throughout the universe in invisible and unexpected ways, changing the weather and the climate, then anything was possible. The girl who sleeps for a hundred years does so because of a single choice to thread a needle. The golden ball that falls down the well rattles the world, changing everything. The bird that drops a feather, the butterfly that moves its wings, all of it drifts across the universe, through the woods, to the other side of the mountain. The dust you breathe in was once breathed out. The person you are, the weather around you, all of it a spell you can't understand or explain. — Alice Hoffman

If the girl could only have spoken to the other boys and girls, the ones that had followed the golden-eyed boy before her, she would have known that there is always something left to lose. — Brom

Oh I'm sure you're right," Auntie said. "Probably she's just as you say. But she looks to me like a very clever girl, and adaptable; you can see that from the shape of her ears. — Arthur Golden

He had always thought her beautiful - for a peasant girl. But with that golden hair falling around her, it made her face and eyes glow like some kind of enchantment. He was thinking like an addle-headed knave. — Melanie Dickerson

He went to the light switch by the door and flicked it off. When he turned, she glowed in the golden light from the space heater, and the shadow over her shoulders on the wall seemed a looming, black-cloaked figure. An ancient, mythical harbinger of doom and destruction.
He blinked. It turned into a pattern of blocked light again.
Jesus, what the hell was that about?
He was rattled, jittery, scared half to death. But he could no more say no to this girl than he could stop breathing. — Shannon McKenna

Keep that red-haired girl of yours in the open air all summer and don't let her read books until she gets more spring into her step." This message frightened Marilla wholesomely. She read Anne's death warrant by consumption in it unless it was scrupulously obeyed. As a result, Anne had the golden summer of her life as far as freedom and frolic went. She walked, rowed, berried, and dreamed to her heart's content; and when September came she was bright-eyed and alert, with a step that would have satisfied the Spencervale doctor and a heart full of ambition and zest once more. "I just feel like studying with might and main," she declared as she brought her books down from the attic. "Oh, you good old friends, I'm glad to see your honest face once more - yes, even you, geometry. — L.M. Montgomery

When the girl returned, some hours later, she carried a tray, with a cup of fragrant tea steaming on it; and a plate piled up with very hot buttered toast, cut thick, very brown on both sides, with the butter running through the holes in great golden drops, like honey from the honeycomb. The smell of that buttered toast simply talked to Toad, and with no uncertain voice; talked of warm kitchens, of breakfasts on bright frosty mornings, of cosy parlour firesides on winter evenings, when one's ramble was over and slippered feet were propped on the fender, of the purring of contented cats, and the twitter of sleepy canaries. — Kenneth Grahame

You send me all these roses.
Every time I think the last bouquet has arrived, finally, another turns up.
I'm running out of vases.
I didn't know roses came in so many colors.
You say they're the perfect symbols of love because they have thorns and love is pain.
I say life is pain, highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something.
And you don't get it.
You say you love me, but you don't speak my language.
You don't even realize I'm an orchid girl. — Erin Morgenstern

When a golden girl can win Prayer from out the lips of sin, When the barren almond bears, And a little child gives away its tears, Then shall all the house be still And peace come to Canterville. — Oscar Wilde