Rose Victoria Quotes & Sayings

What fortune teller would ever have had the nerve to predict that the best years of my life would turn out to be my old age? — Helene Hanff

I live by a man's code, designed to fit a man's world, yet at the same time I never forget that a woman's first job is to choose the right shade of lipstick. — Carole Lombard

Let us free all the animals in the zoos to show them that we are not animals!.. — Mehmet Murat Ildan

I wasn't aware of the impact that I had made on the lives of Aboriginal people until I did a bit of travelling and visited various communities throughout Victoria. To see the way that my people looked at me and to know that I made a difference to them was an honour. — Lionel Rose

I simply can't believe nice communities release effluents. — William Hamilton

The office Halloween party was at the Royalton last week and I went as a mass murderer, complete with a sign painted on my back that read MASS MURDERER (which was decidedly lighter than the sandwich board I had constructed earlier that day that read DRILLER KILLER), and beneath those two words I had written in blood Yep, that's me and the suit was also covered with blood, some of it fake, most of it real. In one fist I clenched a hank of Victoria Bell's hair, and pinned next to my boutonniere (a small white rose) was a finger bone I'd boiled the flesh off of. As elaborate as my costume was, Craig McDermott still managed to win first place in the competition. He came as Ivan Boesky, which I thought was unfair since a lot of people thought I'd gone as Michael Milken last year. The Patty Winters Show this morning was about Home Abortion Kits. — Bret Easton Ellis

Perhaps power had to be tended, like Tieren said, but not all things grew in gardens. Plenty of plants grew wild. And Lila had always thought of herself more as a weed than a rose bush. — Victoria Schwab

I thought I appreciated books, but this was an alter to the book gods. It was hard not to be impressed. I didn't know what had the most impact: the rosewood shelving, the rolling library ladders, the mezzanine floor with the ornate spiral wrought-iron staircases at each end, the carved moldings, the scent of well-loved books, or the silky Aubusson rugs in a soft faded palette of rose, sage and aqua. — Victoria Abbott

I said just let me try one more time and she said, "THAT'S ENOUGH, ISABEL," again, and she could just say it over and over and it would never get through my thick skull because I'm always wanting and wanting because nothing is ever enough you are never enough I am never enough I am never enough I AM NEVER ENOUGH. — Amy Reed

Cherie," he said softly, "I have tired of this game of charades. The time for defiance is at an end."
He held both of my wrists in the iron grip of one hand and removed his dagger from the folds of his waistcloth with the other. I recognized the ivory handled blade as a jambiya, a small, curved, double-bladed, and extremely lethal weapon.
I squeezed my eyes shut; driving my teeth into my lower lip to keep back the hysterical sob that rose in my throat. I only hoped he would do it quickly. But instead of the slash of his blade across my throat, I felt the sudden and steady pop of the buttons from my blouse. Bewildered, I opened my eyes into his. He lifted a brow over his mocking gaze.
"You thought I would kill you, cherie?" He chuckled. "No. I would not waste such beauty as yours - unless you forced my hand. You comprehend me? — Victoria Vane

The morning was on fire as the sun rose, seemingly from the ocean depths. The great, glowing orb came to the surface and set the horizon aflame. Many minutes passed, and it floated fully into the sky to light the day and gently warm the sea below. — Victoria Kahler

The essence of an individual is made up of both their soul and spirit. Spirit is basically life energy, while the soul is what gives a person the ability to feel compassion, love, and all the things that make one human. — Deanna Chase

Ian cleared his throat. "Lady Elizabeth." He reached behind him and handed her a single red rose. "A rose... for the bonniest lass who ever graced the Highlands. — Victoria Roberts

Alexandra took the rose and lifted it to her face. The fragrance was intoxicating and the soft petals tickled her lips, as they must have done Benedict's. It was as if he had kissed her. A shiver of delight caressed her body and she felt the warmth of a blush on her throat and cheeks. — Ellen Read

Humility is the key characteristic of a worship leader. Actually, the key for any great leader. — Chris Tomlin

I think I could get addicted to this," she said, lying naked underneath him.
He dropped his head to her breast. "You are the only peace I've known in decades."
Abbey laughed. "I'm sure you say that to all the girls."
"No." He rose over her to meet her gaze directly. "Only you. — Victoria Davies

I took the liberty of designing your pennant," said Rhy, resting his elbows on the gallery's marble banister. "I hope you don't mind."
Kell cringed. "Do I even want to know what's on it?"
Rhy tugged the folded piece of fabric from his pocket, and handed it over. The cloth was red, and when he unfolded it, he saw the image of a rose in black and white. The rose had been mirrored, folded along the center axis and reflected, so the design was actually two flowers, surrounded by a coil of thorns.
"How subtle," said Kell tonelessly.
"You could at least pretend to be grateful."
"And you couldn't have picked something a little more ... I don't know ... imposing? A serpent? A great beast? A bird of prey?"
"A bloody handprint?" retorted Rhy. "Oh, what about a glowing black eye?"
Kell glowered.
"You're right," continued Rhy, "I should have just drawn a frowning face. But then everyone would know it's you. I thought this was rather fitting. — Victoria Schwab

The sun rose, the moon saturated the night sky with its silver light and the stars blazed, indifferent to the events happening below them. — Victoria Hislop

She felt just like that girl in that book with the letter A on her chest. Only her A signified Alone. She was an outcast, cast out by her own choices, an outsider with a pretty face. Like a rose, she may have been beautiful to look at, but almost everyone only knew the thorny side. — Victoria Kahler

Young women who want an education will not be stopped — Freida Pinto

You have no chose but to assume it's your fault, that you're unlovable. And the feeling wraps around you until it becomes a prison, and you find yourself barricading that doors against anyone who wants to come in. — Lisa Kleypas

The bottom line is there is large uncertainty because nobody has a very good handle on the aerodynamics at those altitudes and at those speeds. Given that large degree of uncertainty, life could be normal during entry or some bad things could happen. — Wayne Hale

She had the face of an angel, and the hair of the Devil's handmaiden. The freshly washed locks flowed around her in a waist-length curtain, waves and curls of molten red that contained every shade from cinnamon to strawberry-gold. It was the kind of hair that nature usually bestowed on homely women to atone for their lack of physical beauty.
But Vivien had a face and form that belonged in a Renaissance painting, except that the reality of her was more delicate and fresh than any painted image could convey. Now that her eyes were no longer swollen, the pure blue intensity of her gaze shone full and direct on him. Her mouth, tender and rose-tinted, was a marvel of nature. — Lisa Kleypas

I was born in 1927, the only child of middle-class parents, both English, and themselves born in the grotesquely elongated shadow, which they never rose sufficiently above history to leave, of that monstrous dwarf Queen Victoria. — John Fowles

FROM A WILD NIGHT'S BRIDE by Victoria Vane:
His gaze glued to the bed, Ned made a mechanical backward retreat to the center of the room where he had a clearer prospect of its crowning glory. His vision rose to the top of the headboard, to the heraldic shield seated betwixt the carved figures of a lion and a unicorn. His gaze slid with dread to the engraved scroll beneath. Dieu Et Mon Driot. God and my right, the motto of the king. His chest seized. The room began to spin. He looked to Phoebe, aware that the blood was draining from his face, and that his voice emerged as a strangled sound. "May the same God save me ... for I'm going to be hung, drawn, and quartered for spending last night rutting in the King of England's bed!" coming April 27, 2012 from Breathless Press — Emery Lee