Best 9253 quotes in «girl quotes» category

Self-expression is something that you've crafted, something that you've found. You've practiced on that piano for hours, you didn't hang out with your buddies, you didn't go after the girls, you stayed in your own little geeky room or you wrote for hours.

Self-love is part of your birthright. I'm excited to be sharing this message to "beautiful girls" everywhere, including those disguised as grandmothers.

Sensuality does not understand why everyone else is so disturbed by her. As a young girl, she was often scolded for going barefoot.

Sense of humor. A girl who doesn't take themselves too seriously. And someone who is spontaneous. They're the three things for me that really attract me to a girl.

Seriously, in America there are more big, curvy girls than there are little girls, and men love us, too.

'Sex and the City' is about outsiders. Single girls as lepers, should have been married by now. It's the reason the whole thing took off.

Sex is more openly spoken about than 40, 50 years ago, and I think probably in comparison to a lot of bands - certainly other contemporary pop girl bands - we're certainly not as suggestive. We talk about sex in the way that we would to our friends. As a girl group, I think it was important not to avoid those sort of things either, because it's about confronting people's idea of what women should be talking about and how they should talk about it. There's no point in shying away from subjects like that, because they exist.

Sex-ed courses look at girl's internal parts: for boys it's about ejaculation, erection and wet dreams; for girls, it's periods and unwanted pregnancy. We never talk to girls about sexual self-exploration or self-knowledge.

Sex education is legitimate in that girls cannot be taught soon enough how children don't come into the world.

Sex education pretty much taught me about how my body works, why certain things happen when I'm around girls, and what sex was, and I think that there's a lack of clarity between sex and love - a lot of people think it's the same thing when it's not.

Sexist grammar burns into the brains of little girls and young women a message that the male is the norm, the standard, the central figure beside which we are all deviants, the marginal, the dependent variables. It lays the foundation for androcentric thinking, and leaves men safe in their solipsistic tunnel-vision.

Sexuality in girls isn't explored as much as it should be. Everyone gets freaked out - it's quite a taboo thing for girls to wanna have sex

Shadow looked down at the girl on the table. “What happened to her?” he asked. “Poor taste in boyfriends,” said Jacquel. “It’s not always fatal.

Sexual freedom and liberation has to be of your own making. I'm stunned when I hear about friends' children, ten or twelve years old giving blow jobs. I just don't like the girls being used or exploited in that way. It's just indiscriminate sexual relating. It's just the isolated things.

Sexualization is the performance of sexuality, the performance of sexiness. Girls are super good at that now.

Shakespeare drew a map of the human mind as clearly as Newton mapped the heavens. Wht is one considered science and the other fir only to be mocked with jokes about pretty girls and drury lane?

Shakespeare, he's in the alley with his pointed shoes and his bells, speaking to some French girl who says she knows me well.

Shakespeare must be a black girl.

Shame is something you'll find a lot of - particularly Catholic - girls feel about their bodies, about their sexuality, about their diet, about anything you like. Shame is the way you keep them down. That's the way to crush a girl.

Shaun has working his audience into a frenzy down to a science; by the time he's done with them, they get excited by the mysterious discovery of pocket lint. It's impressive, but I'd rather watch him move. There's something wonderful about the way he lets go, becoming all energy and excitement as he outlines what's coming next. Maybe it's geeky for a girl my age to admit she still loves her brother. I don't care. I love him, and one day I'll bury him, and until then, I'm going to be grateful that I'm allowed to watch him talk.

She became a very famous, very popular young girl. Before that, she was my daughter, but now I'm her father.

Shane said, "Don't worry. I'll protect you." Claire hit him in the shoulder. "I don't need you to protect me." "Then why am I going first?" "So you can take the first punch while I throw the second?" "So I'm bait? Ouch. You've been in Morganville way too long, girl.

She and Marie were Montreal girls, not trained to accompany heroes, or to hold out for dreams, but just to be patient.

She could not explain or quite understand that it wasn't altogether jealousy she felt, it was rage. And not because she couldn't shop like that or dress like that. It was because that was what girls were supposed to be like. That was what men - people, everybody - thought they should be like. Beautiful, treasured, spoiled, selfish, pea-brained. That was what a girl should be, to be fallen in love with. Then she would become a mother and she'd be all mushily devoted to her babies. Not selfish anymore, but just as pea-brained. Forever.

She didn't strike me as a "crossword in ink" kind of girl

She doesn't even know how to kill things properlike? What kind of girl have you given me to, goddess?" Vic protested, fixing his eye on Nike once more. Nike let out a laugh. " Vic is a little bloodthirsty. You'll get used to it.

She don't say a word, and she won't say a word until you kiss the girl.

She bestowed the blessing of a wild girl's lips.

She closed her eyes, dark-lidded, dark shadows beneath them; she really was older, not the glancing-eyed girl I had fallen in love with but no less beautiful for that; beautiful now in a way that less excited my senses than tore at my very heart.

She emptied herself of Fabio and of herself, of all the useless efforts she had made to get where she was and find nothing there. With detached curiosity she observed the rebirth of her weaknesses, her obsessions. This time she would let them decide, since she hadn't been able to do anything anyway. Against certain parts of yourself you remain powerless, she said to herself, as she regressed pleasurably to the time when she was a girl.

She doesn't know any better, what a girl like her needs is a man with both his legs on the land. A man who will hold her down so that she doesn't fly away. She doesn't know yet that someone like you looks better on the shelf than in your hand.

She doesn’t usually back down that easily.” “Maybe she’s got class.” Eve snorted. “Trust me,” she said. “That girl’s got no class at all.

She had a brainy girls discomfort about her own beauty and its effects on folks.

She had been the quiet, rather plain girl, with a surprisingly sharp tongue if she was put out, lovely eyes and pretty hair and a way of looking very directly at one. Now he had to admit that she had become more important to him than anyone else in the world. The idea of a future without her wasn't to be borne. She had by some mysterious metamorphosis become more beautiful than anyone else he had ever encountered.

She held up her calloused, grimy fingers. Leo couldn't help thinking there was nothing hotter than a girl who didn't mind getting her hands dirty. But of course, that was just a general comment. Didn't apply to Calypso. Obviously.

she hurriedly wipes her eyes so that he can see the girl he wishes.

She holds up a finger. "I'm getting to it. Don't rush a girl in the middle of her exposition.

She had me at Sweet Valley High. Gay playfully crosses the borders between pop culture consumer and critic, between serious academic and lighthearted sister-girl, between despair and optimism, between good and bad. . . . How can you help but love her?

She had been innocent once, a little girl playing with feathers on the floor of a devil's lair. She wasn't innocent now, but she didn't know what to do about it. This was her life: magic and shame and secrets and teeth and a deep, nagging hollow at the center of herself where something was most certainly missing.

She holds herself with such reserve. She smiles, but the smile doesn't reach her eyes, even in the company of the girls she's chosen to eat with. Why? I have no clue, and I really don't want to spend my time worrying about it. But my brain pushes at the question anyway. Why are people aloof? Because they don't want to let others in. Why don't they want to let others in? Well, sometimes because they're shy, and sometimes because they're convinced of their own superiority. But those aren't the only reasons. Sometimes it's because thay have something to hide.

She has her gown nicely in place tonight, doesn't she? Black velvet and sparkles, not a thread left hanging. Clever girl, this city. Even the sky is her friend.

She is an office girl, her name is Betty. Her favorite group is Helen Reddy.

She keeps asking me where we're going." "Yeah," another voice said. It was Shane, pulling up a chair beside Claire. "Girls do that. They've always got to be taking the relationship somewhere." "That's not true!" "It is," he said. "I get it; somebody's got to be looking ahead. But it makes guys think they're-" "Closed in," Michael said. "Trapped," Shane added. "Idiots," Claire finished.

She made a snorting noise, astonishingly human for a ghost. " I'ardly like to tell you this, Nephilim, but if you want a girl to 'ate you, there's easy enough ways of making it 'appen. You don't need my help with the poor thing." And with that, she vanished, spinning away into the mists among the graves. Will, looking after her, sighed. "Not for her," he said, under his breath, though there was no one to hear him, "for me..." and he leaned his head against the cold iron gate.

She might not be as strong as everyone she met, or as fast, or even as smart. But she could bullshit with the best of them. Combine that quality with a license to carry, and a girl could more than get by in this life.

She reached up and curled her fingers into mine. “He should take you to dinner.” To say that the mere thought horrified me would have been a grievous understatement. I threw up a little in my mouth then swallowed hard. I told Taft when I recovered, “Just please, for the love of God, find a girl good enough to take home to your mother. And do it soon.” “And stop dating skanks.

She remained both girl and woman to the last day of her life. Under a grave and gentle exterior burned inextinguishable fires of sympathy, energy, devotion, enthusiasm, and absolutely limitless affection.

Sherlock: You're keeping a SCRAPBOOK. Only old ladies and pre-pubescent girls keep scrapbooks, John. John: It's not a scrapbook, Sherlock. I'm collecting papers relevant to the cases. It helps me remember the details. And it was locked away in my desk drawer. Sherlock: The lock on your desk drawer was insulting me with its pretense at security.

She’s a commodity in a sea of broken girls.

She looked up at the sky, now tinged with orange. "Please live. Talk, think, act. And sometimes listen to music..." She stopped briefly. "Look at paintings, allow yourself to be moved. Laugh a lot, and at times, cry. And if you find a wonderful girl, then you go for her, and love her.