Best 13 quotes in «miranda quotes» category

Point? Maybe you aren't a Carrie or a Samantha or a Charlotte or a Miranda. Maybe you're just you.

Have you ever read Hans Christian Andersen’s story of The Little Mermaid, Miranda? Have you ever wanted something so badly that you were willing to suffer the sensation of a thousand blades cutting into your feet?

god, can you imagine getting married at nineteen?" miranda asked. "when i was nineteen i didnt even know how to do my own laundry." she added, for david's beneit, "you know, laundry? washing your own clothes? there are people who do that." he rolled his eyes. "i know how to do laundry. i watched my wife do it dozens of times.

She had always thought that she wanted someone to love her beyond all reason. Someone who would slay a regiment of knights to save her the slightest inconvenience. She'd been wrong. That sort of fool left nothing but a swath of bloody knights in his wake.

I feel you," he said, "whether stalking me through the streets of London, or hiding behind a screen in my library.

Indeed, for the first time in memory, she felt… not comfortable, precisely—he affected her too much for her to relax into that emotion—but safe. She felt she might say anything she wished and not be ridiculed for her opinion, nor forced to justify her existence or usefulness. The sensation was a breath of clean air in the deepest of London fogs.

Marko pressed the creased paper flat against the note stand, rested the pads of his fingers lightly over the top of the keys and began to play. I watched him at first, my eyes drinking in the gorgeous sight that was Marko lost inside his head, but then the music—at first soft, like drops of dew, then rippling and rolling like a shower of rain—swept me away.

she decided no human man would ever touch her again. the doors to her body and heart were already locked, and she would give the key to only one man, perhaps someday...perhaps never...but all the same she didnt care about falling in love, or getting married, or any of that, anymore. it was too late for mortal men to stake any sort of claim to her affections. if she grews old and died alone, it would be in full posession of her heart. and if she ever gave it, she would give it eternally, and without regret.

She ought to call him Benjamin, but it was too intimate, too soft. "My lord?" she ventured, only half serious. "Good, God, no." She bit back a smile. "Husband?" she took a sip of wine. He grunted. "Are we to become Quakers?

I need to be a vampire," she said. "and I want one of them to make it happen. Michael will do fine. I don't care who turns me. The important thing is that if I change, I'll be a princess." I was wrong. She was really crazy.

It's been happening since I was in kindergarten. Not them all the time, but other kids, you know. Every day. It never stops, and it never goes away, thanks to the Internet--it just keeps happening every minute, every day. And I just want it to stop. I think about how to do it, you know. How to kill them. All kinds of elaborate things, like trapping them in pits and burying them alive, or covering them with concrete.

Where are you taking me?” he asked. “To Got Games for a pair of those trick handcuffs,” I said. “I’m not letting you get away so easy this time.

You don’t like me, do you?’ he asked. ‘And yet, you liked it when I held your hand.’ I stood there, burning with humiliation. He smiled. A spark of interest illuminated his eyes. ‘I find that so intriguing.’ ‘I didn’t like it,’ I said, when I finally found my voice. ‘I hated it.’ Marko smiled. ‘Shall we try it again, then, just to be sure?