Carriage Cinderella Quotes

Cinderella was such a dork. She left behind her glass slipper at the ball and then went right back to her step-monster's house. It seems to me she should have worn the glass slipper always, to make herself easier to find. I always hoped that after the prince found Cinderella and they rode away in their magnificent carriage, after a few miles she turned to him and said, "Could you drop me off down the road please? Now that I've finally escaped my life of horrific abuse, I'd like to see something of the world, you know?... I'll catch back up with you later, Prince, once I've found my own way.

I always hoped that after the prince found Cinderella and they rode away in thier magnificent carriage, after a few miles she turned to him and said "could you drop me off down the road, please? Now that I've finally escaped my life of horrific abuse, I'd like to see something of the world, you know? Maybe backpack across Europe or Asia? I'll catch back up with you later, Prince, once I've found my own way.

I watched as my slippers reflected the torches when I was handed out of the carriage. When I looked up, I gasped. I had heard of the lovely palace of the king, but nothing had prepared me for the glittering jewel that was in front of me.

I am sure when Cinderella went to that ball, she took a great deal more pleasure in outsmarting her stepmother than in the carriage and the ball dress and the glass slippers.

Her straw-colored pigtails did not qualify her to be Rapunzel and could not be spun to gold by imp fingers, she was too active to be Sleeping Beauty, too outspoken to be Cinderella, too keen on tall fellows to be Snow White. She held little carriage with sleeping upon legumes to display her regal daintiness and imagined that the only result would be a mushy, green stain on the underside of her mattress. Her eyes met the criteria only of the evil, ice queen.

Cinderella was such a dork. She left behind her glass slipper at the ball and then went right back to her stemonster's house. It seems to me she sho8ld have worn the glass slipper always, to make herself easier to find. I always hoped that after the prince found Cinderella and they rode away in their magnificant carriage, after a few miles she turned to him and said, "Could you drop me off down the road please? Now that I've finally escaped my life of horrific abuse, I'd like to see something of the world, you know? ...I'll catch back up with you later, Prince, once I've found my own way. Anyone tell you that you grew up to be sort of cute? In like a misfit type of way? The secret tactic f a good bargainer is to know when to compromise You have to trust the words. They do not create anything more than themselves. And while sometimes delights can be tiresome, mostly they re ..Pure, They're burnished by their own hopes This must be part of Mother Nature's master plan- making these boys so irresistibly cute, in such a naughty way, that the purity of their intentions becomes irrelevant. I am trying to embrace danger

When I received my glossy black invitation in the mail a few days later, I could feel my heart swell with excitement. “Hef’s Midsummer Night’s Dream Party,” it read. On the front was a beautiful pinup illustration by famed artist Olivia De Berardinis and inside was a small piece of paper with directions. It was like Cinderella finally scoring an invitation to the ball—except instead of arriving by horse-drawn carriage, we would board a shuttle at a UCLA parking garage.

Cinderella gave up running like a lady. She picked up her skirts and sprinted down the long line of stairs where her carriage waited. The walkway was lined with soldiers who started to move towards her, but as soon as Cinderella gathered up her skirts, they lunged backwards as if she had hit them and avoided looking at her. At

You're returning to your room barefoot?" Tom asked. "I have no choice." "Is there something I can do to help?" Cassandra shook her head. "I can sneak upstairs myself." She let out a quick little laugh. "Like Cinderella sans pumpkin." He tilted his head in that inquiring way he had. "Did she have a pumpkin?" "Yes, haven't you ever read the story?" "My childhood was short on fairy tales." "The pumpkin becomes her carriage," Cassandra explained. "I'd have recommended a vehicle with a longer date of expiration." She knew better than to try explaining fairy-tale magic to such a pragmatic man.

I always hoped that after the prince found Cinderella and they rode away in their magnificent carriage, after a few miles she turned to him and said, "Could you drop me off down the road please? Now that I've finally escaped my life of horrific abuse, I'd like to see something of the world, you know?... I'll catch back up with you later, Prince, once I've found my own way.

His coat was white, his eyes as black as ink, his tail pale pink. He was cuter than the kind of mice you didn’t want in your house, an elegant little gentleman. If Amity were Cinderella, Snowball would morph into a magnificent stallion to pull her carriage. That’s the kind of special mouse he was. Now, after she turned on her TV and streamed an animated Disney movie that she had seen many times and that didn’t have a cat in it, she took Snowball out of his cage. She sat in an armchair, and for a while he ran up and down her arms and across her shoulders, pausing now and then to stare at her with what she believed was affection. Then he settled in her lap, on his back. She rubbed his tummy with one finger, and he relaxed into an ecstatic trance.

You heard me. Home at the stroke of twelve and not a second later.” “What time is it now? Nearly ten?” “That gives you two wonderful hours to win the prince’s heart. Good luck!” “Why? Why midnight?” Godnutter glowers at me. “Let’s just say I’ve noticed your evenings with men run a lot later than I approve of. I don’t want you misbehaving with this prince. And if you’re thinking of disobeying me,” she wags the pipe stem at me, “I have set the spell so everything that’s been enchanted will turn back to it’s true form at midnight. Even the things you put white magic on! You’ll have nothing but a pumpkin, two rats, a mouse, and a dowdy dress. So watch the clock or it could get quite embarrassing!” I slam the door shut. “Drop dead, Godnutter!” I shout as the carriage begins to roll. “I already did that!” she calls after me, following it with her nasty cackle. I look back and the spot where she stood is now vacant. But her crazy laugh lingers, chasing me into the night.

The goat footgirl opened the door of the round carriage, revealing an inside of orange satin. “I could not get it to entirely agree with me, but no one will see the interior anyway,” Sybilla said grudgingly.

When the soldiers entered the woods moments later, they found only a servant girl leading two goats instead of the fleeing coach with the agile carriage horses they were looking for. “Spread

Mildred's out there,” Caleb spoke to Darius. “Looks like she came dressed as Cinderella's pumpkin carriage.” Darius's shoulders stiffened and he swiped up another drink. “Fuck my life.” “Is that your precious fiancée?” Tory asked as we drifted closer to the door in preparation of leaving. Darius's lips pursed but he didn't answer. “He's a bit touchy about it,” Caleb mock-whispered to us. “I am not touchy,” Darius barked and Caleb backed up a step, but he was still grinning. “That was convincing,” I murmured and Tory giggled. All four pairs of the beast's eyes slammed into us and I took that as our cue to leave. I caught the door handle but it swung wide again before we made our escape. (Darcy)

Indeed. It's not easy to be a heroine... But it becomes easier once we start using our magic wand, that little wand that has the power to turn a pumpkin into a beautiful carriage and old rags into a beautiful dress.

I urge you to think long and hard about prayer. How can it not be classified as a form of magical thinking? In many cases, even an attempt at conjuring? Folks who pray are usually earnest about it, thinking with all their might about messages they have for God. But how do the thoughts inside our heads—trapped there by our skulls—escape to be perceived by God? There are no known mechanisms by which that would work, just as there are no known ways by which the popular spells in the Harry Potter stories would work. Nobody even tries to explain how the Fairy God Mother in Cinderella, waving a wand, changes a pumpkin into a carriage—because that’s fantasy. Does prayer amount to waving a wand in our minds? The efficacy of prayer should not be off-limits for legitimate inquiry. Indeed, scientific studies of prayer have not yielded hoped-for results.

As I said, child, I have always liked the notion of granting wishes. Now, off to the ball with you, Cinderella. I have ordered the town carriage for your use tonight, but I am afraid we haven’t any mice for footmen. You will simply have to make do with the ordinary kind.

You’ll be taken up to the palace in chains if you’re caught driving a carriage, and if you go walking alone you might end up in a far worse situation.