Frankie And Grace Quotes

Did he use tongue? Did he growl? Was he shirtless? Did he motorboat you? Did you touch his abs? Did you lick his sharp jaw? Is he the size of a horse? Did you giddy up? Did you find his Nemo? Did you Grace his Frankie? Did you Justin his Timberlake?

Did you find his Nemo? Did you Grace his Frankie? Did you Justin his Timberlake?

The truth is that when you kill a man it doesn't matter if he's your enemy and if he's trying to kill you. That moment of his death will eat at you for the rest of your life. It'll dig into bone so deep inside you that not even the hand of God is going to be able to pull it out, I don't care how much you pray. And you multiply that feeling by several years and too many doomed engagements and more horror, Frankie, than you can possibly imagine. And the utter senselessness and the total hopelessness become your enemy as much as any man pointing a rifle at you.

It's breathtaking, really. You're so powerful. Graceful. I have to struggle not to touch you. All I want to do is reach out and run my hand through your hair.

sodoyouthinkyoucouldtrustmetogotothedancetonight?" she blurted before losing her nerve. Viktor and Viveka exchanged a quick glance. Are they considering it? They are! They trust - "No," they said together. Frankie resisted the urge to spark. Or scream. Or threaten to go on a charging strike. She had prepared herself for this. It had always been a possibility. That's why she'd read 'Acting For Young Actors: The Ultimate Teenage Guide' by Mary Lou Belli and Dihah Lenney. So she could act like she understood their rejection. Act like she accepted it. And act like she would return to her room with grace. "Well, thanks for hearing me out," she said, kissing them on the cheeks and skipping off to bed. "Good night." "Good night?" Viktor responded. "That's it? No argument?" "No argument," Frankie said with a sweet smile. "You have to see this punishment through or you're not teaching me anything. I get it." "O-kay." Viktor returned to his medical journal, shaking his head as if he couldn't quite believe what he was hearing. "We love you." Viveka blew another kiss. "I love you, too." Frankie blew two back. Time for Plan B.

Same old, same old. The Great Wall, the Berlin Wall, the Wailing Wall. The whole world is just a bunch of walls. - Grace & Frankie: Se2Ep11

You’d never think he could be so violent, would you?’ Lizzie tittered. ‘I must admit, he had such charm about him, no one would have guessed. But he had a really dark side. He kept it well hidden. It was so much fun having him fawn all over me. I pick them out, you see, the lost souls.’ Teagan said nothing, too scared to speak, even if she could think of something to say. Listening to Lizzie, it seemed as if she was enjoying telling her what she had done. She didn’t seem to care who she hurt. She began to lose hope of ever getting away. But she wouldn’t give up, because she knew Grace wouldn’t, either. ‘You won’t win,’ she told her. ‘Grace will find me and you’ll be locked up and—’ ‘I have to get to number five! Don’t you understand?’ Teagan screamed. ‘Be quiet!’ Lizzie sliced a hand across her face. Teagan cried out again. Still bound together, her hands were caught between them. She couldn’t help herself in any way. She really was going to die. SEVENTY-SIX Teagan’s scream travelled through the air towards them. Every hair on Grace’s body stood on end as it pierced her ears. Please don’t let me be too late. ‘This way!’ Frankie shouted and she followed him. Rounding a corner, she saw two people pointing in the direction of the clock tower. In the distance were Teagan and the woman Grace now knew was Lizzie Shelby. Lizzie had a knife in her hand. They were going to be too late. ‘We

Iago is gay like a black leather whip, like Paris in the 1920s, like calling non-food things delicious. Iago is gay like cold eyes and bony hips, like a pearl-handled pistol tucked in one’s suit pocket, like delicate fingers that could play a Chopin prelude or crush a throat with equal grace. Iago is gay in the way that we the F&N unit aspire to be gay, but it’s harder for girls.

What we mean to say, but what Ms Spider is not equipped to understand, is that Iago is gay in the way that all the best fictional murderers are gay. Norman Bates, Tom Ripely, The titular Third Man, and he was the original. Iago is gay like a black leather whip. Like Paris in the 1920s. Like calling non-food things “delicious.” Iago is gay like cold eyes and bony hips. Like a pearl-handled pistol tucked in one’s suit pocket. Like delicate fingers that could play a Chopin prelude or crush a throat with equal grace. Iago is gay in the way that we, the F&M unit, aspired to be gay. But it’s harder for girls.

Tim expands confidentially. ‘You know, Hester, I’m certain those young devils in the Mess were up to some mischief this afternoon. Shouldn’t be surprised if they had a girl hidden behind the curtain.’ ‘Whatever made you think that?’ I wonder, in a voice trembling with suppressed mirth. Having decided to make a clean breast of the whole adventure to Tim, I find these suspicions of his somewhat amusing. Tim laughs – ‘You should have been there – they were tumbling over each other to be nice to Uncle Frankie and to get him out of the place. Jack went white as a ghost when the old man made a move towards the window. Wonder what Grace would say if she knew – I’ll get on to them tomorrow about it, see if I don’t.

And the utter senselessness and the total hopelessness become your enemy as much as any man pointing a rifle at you. And because they were officers, some men like your father were forced to be the architects of that senselessness, and what they asked of themselves and of the men they commanded was a burden no human being should have to shoulder. Frankie, your father someday may tell you about the war or he may not. But whatever you hear from Doyle or from anyone else will never be your father’s truth.