Marsalles Quotes & Sayings

I love being a woman and I was not one of these women who rose through professional life by wearing men's clothes or looking masculine. I loved wearing bright colors and being who I am. — Madeleine Albright

Hope costs nothing. — Colette

New York blends the gift of privacy with the excitement of participation; and better than most dense communities it succeeds in insulating the individual (if he wants it, and almost everybody wants or needs it) against all enormous and violent and wonderful events that are taking place every minute. — E.B. White

Time seemed to stop; the world around them stilled. There was only her. His thumb caressed at her lips, the lips he wanted to kiss.
Katianna rolled her face in his palm - a caressing nuzzle and he stilled, his breath froze in his chest.
A response. A submissive one at that. His heart, stilled fractured by that single nuance, but his loins burst with a wave of warmth.
A response - it had been a response. Oh fuck he had to kiss her. His whole body was screaming for her now. — Talon P.S.

Here they found themselves year after year- a group of busy, youngish women who had eased their cars impatiently through the archaic streets of Rosedale, who had complained for a week previously about the time lost, the fuss over the children's dresses, and, above all, the boredom, but who were drawn together by a rather implausible allegiance- not so much to Miss Marsalles as to the ceremonies of their childhood, to a more exacting pattern of life which had been breaking apart even then but which survived, and unaccountably still survived, in Miss Marsalles's living room. — Alice Munro

If we are generous enough, we can stretch our souls everywhere and everywhen else. If we succeed in doing so, we shall discover that our present embraces the past and the future and that the whole world is our province. — George Sarton

Employees leave where they work. Employers live where they work. — Mokokoma Mokhonoana

In the name of Annah the Allmaziful, the Everliving, the Bringer of Plurabilities, haloed be her eve, her singtime sung, her rill be run, unhemmed as it is uneven! — James Joyce

quitting. But now, only ten days out, I was done. I wanted — Cheryl Strayed