Pink Lady Quotes & Sayings

They developed a platform for me to put up another 12 years, and that was my ticket to Cooperstown. Those were the best years of my life. It was like magic. — Dennis Eckersley

Solve this, pink-haired lady. — Lauren Blakely

We cannot escape that Hollywood is in the middle of a wave of technological change. The current angst over all the implications of new entertainment technology is nothing new. — Michael Eisner

I'm showing some of my sculptures in Holland in the spring, so we'll see. — Alan Vega

We try and map boundaries, and to string fence - we try to set up a border between life and death, between man and nature, and complicity versus innocence. But the truth is, there is no complicity, there is no innocence; and there is no death, there is only life. — Rick Bass

Goodness," said an exhausted Lady Maccon, "are babies customarily that repulsive looking?"
Madame Lefoux pursed her lips and turned the infant about, as though she hadn't quite looked closely before.
"I assure you, the appearance improves with time."
Alexia held out her arms - her dress was already ruined anyway - and received the pink wriggling thing into her embrace. She smiled up at her husband.
"I told you it would be a girl."
"Why isna she crying?" complained Lord Maccon. "Shouldna she be crying? Aren't all bairns supposed to cry?"
"Perhaps she's mute," suggested Alexia. "Be a sensible thing with parents like us."
Lord Maccon looked properly horrified at the idea. — Gail Carriger

The fabric of Lady Islay's gown certainly cost as much as Claribel's entire quarterly allowance. It was a pearly silk taffeta shot with threads of silver. Her breasts were scarcely covered, and from there the gown fell straight to the ground in a hauntingly beautiful sweep of cloth.
The pink brought out the color of her hair- burnt amber enticed with brandy and buttercup. If only she had left it free around her face and perhaps created some charming curls! Claribel made up her mind to tell her privately about the newest curling irons. She herself had lovely corkscrew curls bobbing next to her ears. — Eloisa James

One of my ancestors fought in the War of the Roses", she announced haughtily, without looking round, "and in those wars you were supposed to wear a red rose or a white rose to show whose side you were on, but he was very attached to a pink rose called Lady Lavinia, which we still grow in the Hall, actually, so he ended up fighting both sides at once. He lived, too, because everyone thought it was bad luck to kill a madman. That's what you need to know about my family: We might be pigheaded and stupid, but we do fight — Terry Pratchett

Harry, Ron, and Hermione joined the Gryffindors streaming up the marble staircase and, very tired now, along more corridors, up more and more stairs, to the hidden entrance to Gryffindor Tower. A large portrait of a fat lady in a pink dress asked them, "Password?" "Coming through, coming through!" Percy called from behind the crowd. "The new password's 'Fortuna Major'!" "Oh no," said Neville Longbottom sadly. He always had trouble remembering the passwords. — J.K. Rowling

She's as fetching as brown hair done up with ribbons blue
The mountain, my lady
She's as sweet as pink flowers made bright with morning dew,
Mount Eskel, my lady — Shannon Hale

I stole that from Vito Russo. He said he was a devout believer in Judyism. — Charles Busch

I think a lot of good directors listen to music while they're working. The songs just don't become a part of the film. They're replaced. — Ben Folds

If I had not been dyslexic, I wouldn't have needed sports. I would have been like every other kid. Instead, I found my one thing, and I was never going to let go of it. That little dyslexic kid is always in the back of your head. — Caitlyn Jenner

What, everyone likes Kool-Aid. It's a childhood staple. — Skye Warren

Bramble had taken another pencil from Delphinium, and Azalea's napkin, and wrote something new.
You're afraid of the King. Admit it.
Azalea grimaced at her untouched food, burning in humiliation as Lord Bradford took the napkin and read it. This time, he looked to be discreetly writing something back beneath the table.
Fairweller blinked at the King for a moment, in which Lord Bradford handed Bramble her napkin. She opened it and turned a rosy pink.
My lady, it read,who isn't?
Bramble pursed her lips and kicked Lord Bradford beneath the table-hard. His face twitched befre regaining its solemn expression.Azalea buried her face in her hands.
"All we ask is for you to consider it. That is all," said Fairweller.
"Oh." Lord Bradford's voice was slightly strangled. "Yes. Thank you."
Bramble threw the pencil-smudged napkin onto her plate. "I'm done," she said. "May we go to our room now? — Heather Dixon

The more we rely on the market, the more hooked we become on its promises: Do you need a tidier closet? A nicer family picture album? Elderly parents who are truly well cared for? Children who have an edge in school, on tests, in college and beyond? If we can afford the services involved, many if not most of us are prone to say, 'Sure, why not? — Arlie Russell Hochschild

I reached out and touched a tiny pink toe that peeked from Kaden's swaddling shirt. "He's beautiful," I said. "How are you feeling?"
"Well enough," she answered, rolling her eyes, "considering I just paraded my lady parts to a killer barbarian." She sighed. "But I suppose, compared to what you've been through, it's a small indignity to bear. — Mary E. Pearson

A Turkish proverb says the one who speaks truth would be expelled from nine villages. This is true; but there always exist the tenth which embraces the truth! The tenth is the answer of the highness to the lowness! — Mehmet Murat Ildan

THE PLAQUE read HARVEY GOULD, P I. It was the middle of the day, but the blinds were closed. Inside a desktop sat flanked by three non-matching chairs, a creased, leather sofa and a bookcase full of fiction.
A middle-aged man lay back with a pair of briefs hanging around his ankles. A gorgeous, young lady was bent over him in a pair of pink panties that stretched over her pert buttocks. Her head was bobbing up and down and her long, thick black hair swished around her neck with each bob. Harvey lay motionless, moaning. — Simon Palmer

It's terrifying, that unconditional love you have for a child. I still wonder if she really came from me, from my womb. It's a miracle. I don't understand it. I live it very intensely. — Anne Parillaud

I'm going to have the daintiest things possible ... things that will match the spring, you understand ... little jelly tarts and lady fingers, and drop cookies frosted with pink and yellow icing, and buttercup cake. — L.M. Montgomery