Tufted Quotes & Sayings

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose footfalls tinkled on the tufted floor.
"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee
by these angels he hath sent thee
Respite
respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!"
Quothe the Raven, "Nevermore. — Edgar Allan Poe

I wanted to deny him, but that's the terrible power of a diary: it not only calls forth the person you used to be but rubs your nose in him, reminding you that not all change is evolutionary. More often than not, you didn't learn from your mistakes. You didn't get wiser, but simply older, growing from the twenty-five-year-old who got stoned and accidentally peed on his friend Katherine's kitten to the thirty-five-year-old who got drunk and peed in the sandbox at his old elementary school. "The sandbox!" my sister Amy said at the time. "Don't you realize that children have to pee in there? — David Sedaris

I'm a Broadway baby, through and through. It's my first love, and it's what brought me to New York in the first place. — Cheyenne Jackson

It is not a belly button. (The umbilicus serves, then withdraws, leaving but a single footprint where it stood: the navel, wrinkled and cupped, whorled and domed, blind and winking, bald and tufted, sweaty and powdered, kissed and bitten, waxed and fuzzy, bejeweled and ignored; reflecting as graphically as breasts, seeds or fetishes the omnipotent fertility in which Nature dangles her muddy feet, the navel looks in like a plugged keyhole to the center of our being, it is true, but O navel, though we salute your motionless maternity and the dreams that have gotten tangled in your lint, you are only a scar, after all; you are not it.) — Tom Robbins

Bring the rathe primrose that forsaken dies, The tufted crow-toe, and pale gessamine, The white pink, and the pansy freaked with jet, The glowing violet, The musk-rose, and the well attir'd woodbine, With cowslips wan that hang the pensive head, And every flower that sad embroidery wears: Bid amaranthus all his beauty shed, And daffadillies fill their cups with tears, To strew the laureate hearse where Lycid lies. — John Milton

We have to make up our minds to face everything with a positive attitude. When we don't, we lose moments of joy. — Staci Luker

Opportunism is self interest seeking with guile often involving subtle forms of deceit, especially calculated efforts to mislead, distort, disguise, obfuscate, or otherwise confuse. This vastly complicates the problems of economic organisation. Plainly if it were not for opportunism all behaviour could be rule governed — Oliver E. Williamson

But you should know that about Dauntless- girl, guy, whatever, it doesn't matter here. What matters is what you've got in your gut. — Veronica Roth

Matthias appeared in front of them. "We should go soon. We have little more than an hour before sunrise."
"What exactly are you wearing?" Nina asked, staring at the tufted cap and woolly red vest Matthias had put on over his clothes.
"Kaz procured papers for us in case we're stopped in the Ravkan quarter. We're Sven and Catrine Alfsson. Fjerdan defectors seeking asylum at the Ravkan embassy."
It made sense. If they were stopped, there was no way Matthias could pass himself off as Ravkan, but Nina could easily manage Fjerdan.
"Are we married, Matthias?" she said, batting her lashes.
He consulted the papers and frowned. "I believe we're brother and sister."
Jesper ambled over, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Not creepy at all. — Leigh Bardugo

Snow, tenderly caught by eddying breezes, swirled and spun in to and out of bright, lustrous shapes that gleamed against the emerald-blazoned black drape of sky and sparkled there for a moment, hanging, before settling gently to the soft, green-tufted plain with all the sickly sweetness of an over-written sentence. — Steven Brust

Also another time she had wakened in dead of night, thinking that something touched her, and when she looked she saw that a black scaly tail, tufted with flame at the end, like a fiend's, had switched across her and lay there burning the covers. And when she turned shrieking, to see what manner of thing lay beside her in the bed, she was at first reassured by sight of her husband's face, then saw, to her horror, that horns had risen, black and pointed, from his forehead. After that she screamed again and remembered nothing until Joseph was shaking her awake, and there were neither horns nor tail to be seen. Nor were the bedclothes scorched. — Evangeline Walton

You're Piers Brandon, the Marquess of Granville, diplomat and secret agent in the Crown's service." She ran a fingertip down the noble slope of his nose. "And I'm Char - "
Her words were lost in a gasp.

With the speed and strength of a whip, he had her turned on her back, sprawled beneath him on the tufted carriage seat.
"You will be Lady Charlotte Brandon, the Marchioness of Granville, diplomat's wife and mother of my heir."
.......
"You'll be mine," he murmured. "I swear it, Charlotte. I will make you mine. — Tessa Dare

Most of the rare species seemed to be very fond of clover, particularly red clover, and other wild legumes such as tufted vetch and bird's-foot trefoil, probably because these plants provide pollen that is unusually rich in protein. — Dave Goulson

I stood transfixed, the silence ringing in my ears. From the field of wild grasses; cocksfoot, tufted hair, wild oat, tall fescue, reed canary and perennial rye, their subtle shades of green, ochre and pink softly patching and blending in rustling movement, suddenly rose a small flock of starlings that had been feeding quietly unseen among the tall waving stems, the swish of their glossy wings startlingly loud in the stillness of midday. Heat held me captive. — Nell Grey

It is the mind that is woven, the mind that was jerked
And tufted in straggling thunder and shattered sun. — Wallace Stevens

To your generation, I must represent the literary equivalent of tufted furniture and gas chandeliers. — Edith Wharton

But here's the thing Ona. Howard wrote that song for you.' Quinn had never been more sure of anything. 'I think he wrote all his songs for you, Ona, for young and lovely you.'
'Now you're talking foolish.'
'He wrote them for you, and you refused them because he didn't know how to give them to you.' How could he, living his shadow of a life, floundering in the sludge of grief and failure?
'Have you been drinking?'
'Listen to me,' he said. 'You 're the glittering girl with the cherry-wood hair. You're the angel's breath and sunlight.'
'Oh, for heaven's sake.' She sat up crossly, her tufted hair seeming to quiver. 'Quinn Porter,' she said, 'I never took you for a romantic.'
'Howard Stanhope loved you,' he declared. 'I thought you should know.'
'Well, all right.'
'I thought you should know, Ona.'
'Thank you.'
'People should know these things — Monica Wood

Shaking his head, Tobin turned back to his picnic spread, and there, sitting on the end of the checkered cloth, and helping himself to one of Tobin's cupcakes, was a tiny brown squirrel.
Tobin blinked in surprise.
The squirrel was exceptionally bold. He made absolutely no move to leave, despite Tobin's frown, and merely stuffed more pink icing into his mouth with one tiny paw. His ears were tufted into small points, and he tilted his head to the side as he surveyed Tobin with bright, inquisitive eyes.
Tobin had to laugh. "Well, I suppose I don't mind sharing with you, little guy, even if you did eat one of my cupcakes," Tobin chuckled to himself.
"I should hope so. Frankly, I'm surprised that you thought you could even eat five cupcakes all by yourself," the squirrel replied airily. — R.S. Mollison-Read

Meadows trim with daisies pied, Shallow brooks and rivers wide Towers and battlements it sees Bosom'd high in tufted trees, Where perhaps some beauty lies, The cynosure of neighboring eyes. — John Milton