Best 35 quotes in «jackie quotes» category

It was a bit of a lark when I agreed to do [Smokey and the Bandit], and I knew we'd have fun if we could get Jackie Gleason.

I think I've drawn from some of the most feminine women, like Jackie Kennedy. I am totally devastated that she's gone. She had it all.

I wound up signing to RCA Victor as a trumpeter, guesting on shows like Jackie Gleason's Honeymooners.

I wake the dead. I bring Jackie Robinson and the Roosevelts to life. Who do you think Im trying to wake up?

Jackie Robinson is a true legend.

Jackie Kennedy was magnificent in the days and weeks immediately following her husband's assassination. She was especially wonderful to me.

We had a love-hate relationship. Jackie knew exactly what she could get out of one of my photos.

When I try to speak perfectly then I am not Jackie Chan anymore. Some words sound like I am trying too hard. The whole thing is not me.

There's people saying that 'Jackie Brown' was a blaxploitation movie, when there's nothing at all blaxploitation about it other than Pam Grier being in it.

When I was a young kid I loved Don Rickles, Buddy Hackett and Jackie Vernon.

He carried me, my legs wrapped around him, and moved in and out of me, stroked me as he walked around the room.

He asked, "May I kiss you?" I stopped blinking. The six lanes of traffic stopped moving. That question made the world stop spinning. A chill ran up and down my spine. My hands opened and closed a thousand times.

He made himself comfortable on his back and I climbed him, straddled his face . . . and leaned toward the headboard so I could keep my balance and stay in control, so I wouldn't fall on his nose.

He dropped his towel. He showed me what I had gotten myself into, what wanted to get into me.

He tongue swiped my sex like was licking the frosting off a cupcake. I called out to heaven again. . . . My sounds encouraged him to torture me.

Eye contact creates wars, creates fights, but eye contact also creates arousal. I felt the weird, pointless tingles, and I read his face and his smile. I tried to look inside him, see what he was feeling, while at the same time guarding myself.

He . . . took his wedding ring off, as if he had meant to do it while I showered, then put it on the nightstand, as if that was all it took for a married man to become unmarried . . .

His rod, his staff, it comforted me.

His sexual movements were smoother than warm butter, creative, musical, and right away he became a conductor who directed the performance and moans of his one-woman orchestra with his dick. I sang like a choir.

I felt it coming and it felt so good, the hollowness inside my belly, a rising savageness, a sensation of hunger that I wanted to run from, yet embrace; control, yet submit to; and all I could do was squirm.

I let my towel drop to the carpet. Nakedness stared at nakedness, and nakedness smiled.

. . . I looked at him, at the debonair man in the suit of all suits . . . . I wasn't in clothes on the level of his, but I wanted the hotel staff to regard me with respect. I grabbed my bag, hoping he wouldn't say anything about me carrying so much, but. I wanted it to look like I was arriving as a guest, not as rented coochie.

My sounds encouraged his tongue to torture me. . . . Without embarrassment he sucked me like I was a man . . . . Glanced up at me as I looked down at him. . . . Then put all of his tongue deep inside me again. I lost it. People in planes, and on Century, Sepulveda, and Airport boulevards, heard my sexual pleas.

I can't believe you didn't tell me you have a phone." "It is a penis move," said Ethan agreed in a stiff voice. "Dick move, baby," said Remmy

I held his energy in my hand. When it was firm, when it was rising, I let it go, eased it down to his inner thigh, watched it spring back up

You're a pretty woman." "I'm almost as pretty as that silver wedding ring on your left hand.

My hand slid into his. The warmth of his hand surrounded mine and made me wish Carson Boulevard was miles more than six lanes wide. He let my hand go when we made it to the sidewalk.

. . . Your hair--it's kind of wavy. Indian in your blood, or are you a hypocrite and texturize your hair?" He hesitated, appeared uneasy, then said, "My mother is black and my father is white." "Your a brown-skinned Drake and didn't vote for your cousin Obama?

Put a hat on the soldier. The soldiers don't need to have an egg for breakfast, unless you want to buy breakfasts, lunches, and dinners for the next eighteen years. Let's have fun, but keep it safe.

We kissed again . . . . My clit began to twerk.

Every time I look at my pocketbook, I see Jackie Robinson.

I know what love is: Tracy and Hepburn, Bogart and Bacall, Romeo and Juliet, Jackie and John and Marilyn.

I did the Ed Sullivan show four times. I did the Steve Allen show. I did the Jackie Gleason show.

I get called Jacqueline Bissette in America. In France, I get called Jackie Bisset. And actually, it is Jacqueline Bisset, which is not that easy to say.

I'd much rather see Richard Pryor or Jackie Mason in a theater than in a club.