Frog Princess Quotes

In fairy tales, the princesses kiss the frogs, and the frogs become princes. In real life, the pricesses kiss princes, and the princes turn into frogs.

It's all very romantic," Gabriel said, and then frowned. "Or it would be, if my brother could get a word out without sounding like a choking frog. I fear he will not go down in history as one of the world's greatest wooers of women.

Don’t cry, Princess. You know what they say. You have to kiss a lot of frogs before you meet your prince.

There's nothing deeper than love. In fairy tales, the princesses kiss the frogs, and the frogs become princes. In real life,the princesses kiss princes, and the princes turn into frogs.

Look at me! I'm big! I'm strong! I'm a superior example of froghood and capable of protecting us both!

Unfortunately being born princess doesn't autimatically make a girl graceful or confident, a fact I've lamented for most of my fourteen years

How do you plan to scare people tonight?" asked a hollow-voiced spector. "I'll wait until they sit down to supper, then scream whenever someone sticks his knife in his meat." I'll haunt the bedchambers," said another. "A bloody ax at midnight always gets a good reaction." A ghost with a purplish tinge to his aura spoke next. "I can top both of you. I'm going to dress like a guard and haunt the privy. I'll hide in the hole and when anyone sits down I'll wail, 'Who goes there? State your business!

With that, I hurled the slipper at him, not caring if I caused his decapitation. (I did not.) Marshaling what little dignity I yet possessed, I stomped down the corridor - challenging indeed with one shoe - and around the corner. I lay awake for hours. The prince had no right, not one, to indict me so, and if I had held the slightest hope of the book's assistance, I would have climbed at once to my wizard room for a spell with which to punish him. Death, perhaps, or humiliation. A croaking frog would be nice, particularly a frog that retained Florian's dark eyes. I should keep it in a box and poke it occasionally with a stick; that would be satisfying indeed.

She was suddenly aware of him in a way she hadn't been before. Hayward was good-looking in a sweet and wholesome way.

Your father is the first person to tell me that I am lovely who seemed to mean it. The only people who've told me that before were ones who think they're supposed to flatter a princess' 'I think you're lovely,' murmured Eadric. 'Only because you love me,' I said. 'Hmm,' he said, kissing me before I could say anything else.

The tinkle of wind chimes announcing the return of our fairy guests made us both look up. Our chance to be alone was going to be shorter than either of us had hoped. I sighed and brushed an errant dragon scale from Eadric’s tunic. “Someday when we have lots of time, remind me to tell you what you mean to me.” Eadric tilted my head back so he could gaze into my eyes. “I can tell you what you mean to me with just one word.” Let me guess,” I said, smiling up at him. “Maybe I make you happy because you no longer have to enter kissing contests to find the best kisser? Do I bring excitement into your life because I can wisk you away to exotic lands on my magic carpet? Or do you find me delightful because I can conjure food whenever you’re hungry?” No, that’s not. . . Wait, what was that last one?” I laughed and shook my head. “Never mind. So tell me in one word, what do I mean to you?” That’s easy,” said Eadric. “Everything!

Without my protectionm your journey is doomed before you begin.' Great! I thought. Even the snake is a critic!

I'd always wanted to believe that my ancestors were better people than they probably were. - Princess Emma

I'd rather be ignored as a frog than eaten as a human.

There's nothing deeper than love. In fairytales , the princesses kiss the frogs, and the frogs become princes. In real life, the princesses kiss princes, and the princes turn into frogs.

Who would have thought that a human and a dragon could make such a perfect match?

The spell was simple and I'd said half of it before she even figured out that it was a spell. Since you like bubbles so, In a bubble you must go. In that bubble you will stay Till your bubbles go away. Sound can't pass from inside out Even if you scream or shout. If you want to be set free, End your spell, that's the key

Before Tessa could answer, there was a knock at the door, and a familiar voice. "It's Jem. Tessa, are you there?" Charlotte sat bolt upright. "Oh! He mustn't see you in your dress!" Tessa stood dumbfounded. "Whyever not?" "It's a Shadowhunter custom—bad luck!" Charlotte rose to her feet. "Quickly! Hide behind the wardrobe!" "The wardrobe? But—" Tessa broke off with a yelp as Charlotte seized her about the waist and frog-marched her behind the wardrobe like a policeman with a particularly resistant criminal. Released, Tessa dusted off her dress and made a face at Charlotte, and they both peeked around the side of the furniture as the seamstress, after a bewildered look, opened the door. Jem's silvery head appeared in the gap. He looked a bit disheveled, his jacket askew. He glanced around in puzzlement before his gaze lighted on Charlotte and Tessa, half-concealed behind the wardrobe.

We're engaged to be engaged, aren't we?

Any other Disney movies?” I was tempting my luck here. Aaron’s expression remained serious. “All of them.” Shit. “Even Frozen? Tangled? The Princess Frog?” I asked, and he nodded. “I love animated movies. They take my mind off things.” He dipped his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “Disney, Pixar … I’m a big fan.” This was too much. First, he’d opened up about his childhood earlier today, and now, this. I wanted to ask how and why, but there was a more pressing issue. “What’s your favorite?” Please don’t say the one that will send my heart into cardiac arrest. Please don’t say it. “Up.” Fuck. He had said it. My heart struggled there for a moment. And that little spot that had been softening throughout the night got a little bigger.

'You do know what magic is, don't you?' Magic's when you close your eyes, make a wish, and it comes true.' 'No, that's coincidence.' Magic's when a princess kisses a frog and it turns into a prince.' 'No, that's evolution.' Isabelle scratched her neck. 'Well, then, what is magic?

It was a story they could tell their children, something out of a fairy tale. How their mother had not known who he was when she accepted him, and the frog turned out to be a prince. But the princess had been unwilling to kiss the frog, the prince remained warty and unloved, and now there was no adventure to be had.

More than 300 children have been hospitalized worldwide since The Princess and the Frog was released. They were hospitalized with salmonella which they contracted from kissing frogs.

You can’t just hope for happy endings. You have to believe in them. Then do the work, take the risks. Slay the dragon—though I really think dragons get a bad rap—kiss the princess, or the frog, defeat the bad witch.

It might be noted here that Freudian analysts of fairy tales have suggested that kissing toads and frogs is symbolized fellatio. In that regard, Princess Leigh-Cheri was, on a conscious level, innocent, although not so naïve as Queen Tilli, who though fellatio was an obscure Italian opera and was annoyed that she couldn’t find the score.

Princess, princess, youngest daughter, Open up and let me in! Or else your promise by the water Isn’t worth a rusty pin. Keep your promise, royal daughter, Open up and let me in!

The Frog Prince The princess kisses the frog and contracts a waterborne disease that makes her bottom explode.

Frog Princess loved the lilly flowers where Green Frog lay dreaming away the hours

Then welcome, you poor things! I'm so gald you're here! I never get to talk to anyone except when I'm working, and then I'm supposed to say things like, 'Woe is me' and 'Beware' and 'Uncle Rupert is going to die.' And then they look at me like I have two heads, which I don't because I'm not a troll , and they always say, 'Oh, no, the banshee is here!' Do you know how that makes me feel? Every time I show up, people run screaming and warn everybody else that I'm around. Believe me, I've thought about staying home and sleeping late, but I can't because I care about people. Without me to warn them, people would die unexpectedly, and then where would their relatives be? When I tell them, they have time to make arrangments, say good-bye...you know-important things. I'm actually a very nice person; it's just that no one gives me a chance to prove it.

some women turn frogs into princes. But that takes a queen, not a princess — or a shrew. Like most women, you, my dear, turn princes into frogs!

Some women have kissed—and some are kissing—a lot of frogs, even though the very first man that they have each kissed was and is still a prince.

trembling copse of young saplings

[...] Y'know, the Duchess Regan is living here at the tower now? I took your advice about not talking about her boffnacity [footnote], even with the duke dead and all, can't be too careful. Although, I caught sight of her in a dressing gown one day she was up on the parapet outside her solar. Fine flanks on that princess, despite the danger of death and all for sayin' so, sir." -Yeomen Aye, the lady is fair, and her gadonk as fine as frog fur [...]" -Pocket footnote: Boffnacity: an expression of shagnatiousness, fit. from the Latin boffusnatious

Okay you guys need the dope on the real story of the princess and the frog...So once upon a time a beautiful independent confident princess came upon a frog sitting by a pond. The frog said to the princess 'I was once a handsome prince until an evil Witch put a spell on me.'...So the smart-assed frog said 'If you will just kiss me I will turn back into a prince. And then you'll marry me move into the castle with my mother and you can cook for me and clean my clothes have my children and live happy ever after while I go rescue a damsel in distress'...Later that night the princess laughed as she sat down to dinner. 'I don't think so ' she said and dug hungrily into her plate of frog's legs. And she lived happily ever after.

Amy, I know it hurts now, but don’t give up. Out there somewhere is a guy or girl that will treat you like the princess you are. My mom always says you have to kiss a few frogs before you find your handsome prince. Consider Nick as just another frog in your quest to find your prince. He’s out there, I know it, waiting to come rescue you and sweep you off your feet.

As presumptive heir to one of the largest Duchies in the Kingdom of the Mists, she could have easily grown up more spoiled than any human princess. Instead she grew into the sort of little girl who's always up a tree or down a hole, a magnet for mud, queen of worms and frogs and crawling things.

It is necessary to create constraints, in order to invent freely. In poetry the constraint can be imposed by meter, foot, rhyme, by what has been called the "verse according to the ear."... In fiction, the surrounding world provides the constraint. This has nothing to do with realism... A completely unreal world can be constructed, in which asses fly and princesses are restored to life by a kiss; but that world, purely possible and unrealistic, must exist according to structures defined at the outset (we have to know whether it is a world where a princess can be restored to life only by the kiss of a prince, or also by that of a witch, and whether the princess's kiss transforms only frogs into princes or also, for example, armadillos).

This has nothing to do with realism (even if it explains also realism). A completely real world can be constructed, in which asses fly and princesses are restored to life by a kiss, but that world, purely possible and unrealistic, must exist according to structures defined at the outset (we have to know whether it is a world where a princess can be restored to life only by the kiss of a prince, or also by that of a witch, and whether the princess's kiss tranforms only frogs into princes or also, for example, armadillos).

he had transformed, from “Froschjunge,” or “Frog boy,” to her very own knight in shining armor.

Search without knowing who he is, but believe that you will recognize him.

(fairy tale). i wanna tell you a joke but it will be like the frog finds the princess says she's not enough then jumps out of window i wanna show you a bit of snow on fingertips so it will speak why the beauty is not for the ugly and dwarves cannot run after white horse i wanna tell you how much a kiss costs that sways both lives away so that you may remain us. but you see, fairy tales start with curses and so do we.

A croaking frog would be nice, particularly a frog that retained Florian’s dark eyes. I should keep it in a box and poke it occasionally with a stick; that would be satisfying indeed.

These are the Fairy Tale Fairies,” said Hannah with a beaming smile. “These four are Julia the Sleeping Beauty Fairy, Eleanor the Snow White Fairy, Faith the Cinderella Fairy, and Lacey the Little Mermaid Fairy.” “Hello,” said Rachel and Kirsty. “And these three are Rita the Frog Princess Fairy, Gwen the Beauty and the Beast Fairy, and Aisha the Princess and the Pea Fairy,” Hannah finished.

The euphoric lust cloud is gone and once the smoke begins to clear, like in all good fairytales, the princess turns into nothing more than a common farm girl while the prince goes back to being a regular frog.

Old man comes across a frog one day. Frog says, "Kiss me, and I'll turn into a beautiful princess." Old man picks up it up, puts it in his pocket. Frog says, "Hey, didn't you hear me?" Old man says, "Sure did. But at my age, I'd rather have a talking frog.

A modern princess—of England, say, or Monaco— serves the purpose of being an adornment in the fantasy life of the public. Consequently, she receives the kind of education that one might think of giving to a particularly splendid papier-mâché angel before putting it at the top of the Christmas tree: an education whose main goal is proficiency in the arts of looking pretty and standing straight. Our century, whatever virtues it may have, is not an optimal time for princesses. Things were different in the Renaissance. Intelligence had a primary value then. At almost every level of the social order, education was meant to create true amateurs—people who were in love with quality. A gentleman or lady needed to be at least minimally skilled in many arts, because that was considered the fittest way of appreciating the good things in life and honoring the goodness itself. Nor did being well-rounded mean smoothing over your finest points and becoming like the reflection of a smile in a polished teaspoon. Intelligence walked hand in hand with individuality, although having finely sharpened points of view did not, it was felt, require you to poke other people with them. If wit was a rapier, courtesy was the button at the end of the blade.

I am short, so I like the little guy/underdog stories, but they are not straightforwardly about one size versus another. Think about, say, Jack and the Beanstalk, which is basically a big ugly stupid giant, and a smart little Jack who is fast on his feet. OK, but the unstable element is the beanstalk, which starts as a bean and grows into a huge tree-like thing that Jack climbs to reach the castle. This bridge between two worlds is unpredictable and very surprising. And later, when the giant tries to climb after Jack, the beanstalk has to be chopped down pronto. This suggests to me that the pursuit of happiness, which we may as well call life, is full of surprising temporary elements -- we get somewhere we couldn't go otherwise and we profit from the trip, but we can't stay there, it isn't our world, and we shouldn't let that world come crashing down into the one we can inhabit. The beanstalk has to be chopped down. But the large-scale riches from the 'other world' can be brought into ours, just as Jack makes off with the singing harp and the golden hen. Whatever we 'win' will accommodate itself to our size and form -- just as the miniature princesses and the frog princes all assume the true form necessary for their coming life, and ours. Size does matter.

Gavin stood within the trees, observing her from the shadows. He watched the basket rise to her nose as she closed her eyes to sniff at its contents. A smile told him it smelled delicious, but she didn’t open the container to pinch off a sample. Instead, the basket lowered to swing at her side as it had previously done. All at once the air was filled with soft singing--a sweet, merry tune comprised of ludicrous lyrics. It was impossible not to grin at the words. “Rainbows paint the sky ‘til the sun melts their colors. Swinging in the wind, whiskered cattails purr. The pigs gallop by and snort at the moon, While frogs kiss the lizards and princesses too.”

It might be noted here that Freudian analysts of fairy tales have suggested that kissing toads and frogs is symbolized fellatio. In that regard, Princess Leigh-Cheri was, on a conscious level, innocent, although not so naive as Queen Tilli, who thought fellatio was an obscure Italian opera and was annoyed that she couldn’t find the score.

Now I was leaning forward, thinking of the book he’d given me, the one full of fairy tales that were really horror stories with very few happy endings. The stepsisters cut off their toes, the princess threw the frog against a wall—splat!— instead of kissing him, Red Riding Hood actually encouraged the big bad wolf to eat Grandma, so she could inherit Grandma’s property.

My friend Oscar is one of those princes without kingdom who wander around hoping you'll kiss them so they won't turn into frogs. He gets everything back to front and that's why I like him. People who think they get everything right do things wrong, and this, coming from a left-handed person, says it all. He looks at me and thinks I don't see him. he imagines I'll evaporate if he touches me and if he doesn't touch me, then he'll evaporate. He's got me on such a high pedestal he doesn't know how to get up there. He thinks my lips are door to paradise, but doesn't know they are poisoned. I am such a coward that I don't tell him so as not to lose him. I pretend I don't see him, and that I am, indeed, going to evaporate... My friend Oscar is one of those princes who would be well advised to stay away from fairy tales and the princesses who inhabit them. He doesn't know he's really Prince Charming who must kiss Sleeping Beauty in order to wake her from her eternal sleep, but that's because Oscar doesn't know that fairy tales are lies, although not all lies are fairy tales. Princes aren't charming, and sleeping beauties, however beautiful, never wake up from their sleep. He's the best friend I've ever had and if I ever come across Merlin, I'll thank him for having placed him in my path.

I'd better explain something about myself. Just as I wasn''t your archetypal beauty of a miller's daughter, I also did not have the same hankerings after pretty golden princes as my peers were universally supposed to have. Don't ask me why. A matter of personal taste. The King, as handsome as a former fairytale prince must be once he's stopped being a frog, left me cold. I had always been attracted to—how can I put it?—the unusual. The shepherd boy was no one's idea of an Adonis; he suffered badly from the after-effects of chickenpox, and had a body which at best could be called weedy. But once he did the things he did, I came to love each and every pock mark on his pallid cheeks, and lay in my bed at night entertaining myself with visions of his skinny thighs and thin, unmanly, rounded shoulders. It's fascinating how human desire can find all manner of things exciting once it's been given a push in the right direction.

Well, there are other versions of the story,” I say, thinking out loud. “Besides the throwing and the kissing.” “Like what?” Frederic asks. I bite my lip. This is going to be worse than the frog-legs conversation. “Well, there’s the one where the princess chops off the frog’s head, and then he turns into a prince,” I say all in a rush. Frederic’s eyes almost pop out of his head. “I do not wish to try that one.

They talk about it like it’s all jukebox slow dances and sweaty lovemaking and princess-cut diamonds. But sometimes it’s just your wife sitting frog style on the kitchen floor after a workout, looking for an omelet pan.

A computer programmer happens across a frog in the road. The frog pipes up, “I’m really a beautiful princess and if you kiss me, I’ll stay with you for a week.” The programmer shrugs his shoulders and puts the frog in his pocket. A few minutes later, the frog says, “Okay, okay, if you kiss me, I’ll give you great sex for a week.” The programmer nods and keeps walking. A few minutes later the frog says, “Turn me back into a princess and I’ll give you great sex for a whole year!” The programmer smiles and walks on. Finally, the frog says, “What’s wrong with you? I’ve promised you great sex for a year from a beautiful princess and you won’t even kiss a frog?” “I’m a programmer,” he replies. “I don’t have time for sex, but a talking frog is pretty neat.

A man was crossing a road when a frog called out, “If you kiss me, I’ll turn into a beautiful princess.” He bent over, picked up the frog, and put it in his pocket. The frog spoke up later and said, “If you kiss me and turn me back into a beautiful princess, I will tell everyone how smart and brave you are and how you are my hero.” The man took the frog out of his pocket, smiled at it, and returned it to his pocket. The frog spoke up again and said, “If you kiss me and turn me back into a princess, I’ll stay with you for a year and do anything you want.” Again the man took the frog out, smiled at it, and put it back into his pocket. Finally, the frog asked, “What is the matter? I’ve told you I’m a beautiful princess, that I’ll stay with you for a year and do anything you want. Why won’t you kiss me?” The man said, “Look, I’m a computer programmer. I don’t have time for a girlfriend, but a talking frog is cool.

He was born a patron; he didn’t choose it. He didn’t choose for his mother to die. He didn’t choose Syd as his proxy or the car crash or the virus in Syd’s blood. Everything that had ever happened had happened to him. He wasn’t responsible. He wasn’t the princess and he wasn’t the frog. He was just a guy getting by the only way he knew how.

Then she was terribly angry, and took him up and threw him with all her might against the wall. "Now, thou wilt be quiet, odious frog!" said she. —The fog king

In that moment, I almost kissed her. An instinctive reaction, really. I was Robin Goodfellow, the infamous Puck; I had kissed countless pretty girls, human and fey alike. Graceful nymphs, flirtatious satyrs, ethereal sidhe, and naive human females in the mortal world, none could resist my charm once I'd turned it on. I'd kissed a few boys as well, along with a mermaid, a trio of plant creatures that had no discernible gender, and one very disillusioned frog that thought it was a princess. Kissing, and all the activities that came with it, was so common an occurrence in the Nevernever it was almost expected. Love was never an option, or even an afterthought. While some fey did grow quite attached to each other, even to the point of developing real affection, true love required work, sacrifice, and putting the other person before yourself, something few faeries understood. So while I had done a lot of kissing in my long years as Robin Goodfellow, very little of it meant anything to me. With a couple exceptions, of course. The most notable was the queen we were on our way to see, right now. The princess I'd lost, who had chosen my greatest rival instead of me.

As women look at a frog wanting to see the prince, men look at a princess wishing to see the tree frog.

We live by rules in our land, and the rules are exacting and many. Trials and wishes come in threes, glossy fruit should be avoided, frogs must never be kissed unless you are ready for a commitment, and princesses, at least the warbling kind, should be ever so mindful of their mood swings - it is sunny when we are cheerful, dreary when we are sad, and stormy when we are driven to consult heinous hags in furtive matters of maleficent magic.

Susan took a sheet of paper and pinned it to the fridge door amongst all the other kids’ pictures: frogs, princesses, unicorns, dragons, and monster trucks. All of which looked as if they’d been done during Picasso’s Off His Face period. The new one was some sort of dinosaur/

We reach a shelf of rock. I climb it, finding handholds in the slick, wet stone, and then turn back for Amalia. “Tryndon will give you a boost.” I kneel and extend my hand. She looks at the rock wall in front of her, uncertain. “It will be fine,” I assure her. “Once I have you, just walk up the rock.” “Forgive me, Your Highness,” Tryndon says as he sets his palms on either side of the princess’s waist. “You’re going to jump, all right?” “Jump?” she demands. “Like a bunny. One…two…” “I don’t think—” “Three.” The timing is off, and Amalia only gives a halfhearted hop. I’m not sure her feet even leave the ground. “All right, we’ll try again,” Tryndon says, undaunted. “Bend your knees. Pretend you’re a frog.” I try not to think about my brother’s hands on Amalia’s waist, and I swallow back a twinge of irrational jealousy. The princess peers at Tryndon over her shoulder. “Am I a frog or a bunny? Make up your mind.” “You’re whichever one hops higher,” he answers solemnly. “One…two…three.

You gotta dig a little deeper!

announced a ball in the princess honor. “We have

I really thought, that i finally found my happily ever after. I was so head over heels, that I would have gone to the ends off the earth for my special girl. I was so head over heels that I never believed a word people said about her instead I was the one who stood up for her whenever I needed too. I was so in love I would do anything for her whenever she ask for something, I was so ready and waiting for her just to call on me and I would be there for her no questions ask. If I had to use my last I would I would do it just for her... You know what? If she ask me to jump, you would think I would say no....!! Never I'll just ask how high should I jump. I believed in fairy tails, I believe that every frog got his princess. I'm so in love that I can't stop and see what I've always known that the earth never ends that a frog can't be with a princess. Sorry for wasting your time!!

Chris Tarrent, OBE British radio broadcaster and television presenter Chris Tarrant is perhaps best known for his role as host on Who Wants to Be a Millionaire? A hugely successful entertainment personality, Chris Tarrant is also active in many charitable causes, including homelessness and disadvantaged children. He was honored with an OBE in 2004 for his extensive work in these areas. The first time I met her I was terribly nervous. I was working on the breakfast show at Capital Radio in London in those days, and I’d been seated next to her at a charity lunch. She’d become the patron of Capital’s charity for needy children in London, and her appearance at our big lunch of the year made it a guaranteed sellout. She was already probably the most famous person in the world, and I was terrified about what on earth I was going to say to her. I needn’t have worried--she immediately put me at ease with an incredibly rude joke about Kermit the Frog. Because she was our patron, we saw a lot of her over the next few years. She was great fun, and brilliant with the kids. She used to listen to my show in the mornings while she was swimming or in the gym, and she’d often say things like “Who on earth was that loopy woman that you had on the phone this morning?” There was a restaurant in Kensington that had a series of alcoves where she’d often go to hide, perhaps with just a detective for company. I remember chatting to her one lunchtime while I was waiting for my boss to join me at my table, and she disappeared round the corner. “Hello, Richard,” I said, when he turned up. “I’ve just been chatting with Lady Di.” “Yes, of course you have,” said Richard. “And there goes a flying pig!” When she reappeared a few moments later and just said, “Good-bye,” on her way out, this big, tough, hard-nosed media executive was absolutely incapable of speech.

In The Frog Prince, a beautiful princess drops her golden ball into a deep spring and must allow a frog into her bedroom to get it back, maturing thereby into a woman. Fairy tales and myth often place an odd creature on the path of the hero to signal an opportunity exists: turn right for good or left for evil. Of all the harbingers of change in fairy tales and myth—disfigured dwarfs, shriveled witches, even Yoda—it is reptiles (and amphibians) that are considered ugly enough without embellishment to awaken the part of the brain that listens to fairy tales. In real life, it is possible that reptiles have the power to switch off a person’s thinking brain and switch on the subconscious, opening the door to a person’s most deeply suppressed passions. Perhaps this is what makes reptiles so terrifying. Coiled at the center of the Oxford English Dictionary’s definition of the word fascinate is this: “of a serpent.” Evolved from lizards, deliverers of venom—snakes are the villains of the animal kingdom. And yet, throughout history, snakes have been recognized for their power to bewitch man, to deprive him of resistance, to draw him near.

Z ipes’s concerns overlap with those of feminists such as Marcia Lieberman, Karen Rowe, Sandra Gilbert, Susan Gubar, and, to a lesser extent, Ruth B. Bottigheimer, who diagnose fairy tales as symptoms of their cultures’ misogynistic traditions.11 For feminists, the fairy tales favored by a given society reflect its gender biases. Accordingly, Amer- icans’ Disney-abetted passion for “Cinderella,” “Sleeping Beauty,” “Snow White,” and “Beauty and the Beast” testifies to our culture’s expediently sexist projection of women as passively compliant, self- sacrificing, beauty-obsessed creatures devoid of agency.12 The inclu- sion of Russian fairy tales in Western feminists’ sphere of reference would necessitate a modification of their critique, for, Russian society’s notorious ageless sexism notwithstanding, some of Russia’s favorite tales (“The Feather of Finist the Bright Falcon,” “The Maiden Tsar,” and “The Frog Princess”) reverse the gender roles in the hackneyed paradigm that feminists deem generically quintessential.

PAUPER PAINTER SEEKS HIS MISSING PRINCESS Looking for a Frog Princess, last sighted at Swoonful of Sugar on Valentine’s Day. Any information? Stop by the MinuteMan pressroom ASAP!

The only way to get what you want in this world, is through hard work.

Rick looked at his watch and gave a nod. “Yup! We have enough time before our next appointment.” “Enough time for what?” asked Amelia. He grinned and began dancing around her and singing in jazz style: “Goin’ down the bayou! Goin’ down the bayou! Goin’ down the bayou! Doodle-ee doodle-ee-doo!” When Rick saw her eyes brighten, he said, I checked out a few bayous at Cross Lake. We’re goin’ down the bayou, sweetie.” Amelia asked with laughter in her voice, “Were you just singing a Disney tune? From the Princess and the Frog?” “Yup! I have many talents.

Alric looked at Reuben. “Is he telling the truth? I can have him ripped apart by dogs, you know. I love dogs. We use them to hunt, but they aren’t allowed to actually take down or eat their quarry. Always thought that was a shame, you know? I think they would appreciate the opportunity. It could be fun too. We could just let these fools run and bet on how far they can get before the dogs catch them.” “I bet Horace doesn’t make it to the gate,” Mauvin said; then all heads turned to Reuben. Ellison looked at him, too, his face frozen in a tense, wide-eyed stare. “I wasn’t aware of any threat from Squire Ellison, Your Highness,” Reuben replied. “Are you sure?” Alric pressed, and flicked a small yellow leaf off Ellison’s shoulder. “We don’t have to use the dogs.” He smiled and tilted his head toward the Pickerings. “They’d love to teach them a lesson, you know. In a way they’re a lot like hunting dogs—they never get the chance to kill anyone either. Ever since they reached their tenth birthday, no one has been stupid enough to challenge them.” “I was, Your Highness,” Reuben said. That got a laugh from the Pickerings and the prince, although Reuben didn’t know why. “Yes, you did, didn’t you?” “That’s why you’re our friend,” Mauvin explained. “He didn’t know who we were,” Fanen pointed out. “He had no idea about the skill of a Pickering blade.” “It wouldn’t have mattered,” Reuben said. His blood was still up from the fight, and his mouth ran away with him. “If I thought you were there to harm the princess, I would still have fought you.” A moment of silence followed this and Reuben watched as Alric smiled; then he glanced at Mauvin and they laughed again. “Tell me, Hilfred, how are you at catching frogs?

Warren Buffett said, “In the past, I’ve observed that many acquisition-hungry managers were apparently mesmerized by their childhood reading of the story about the frog-kissing princess. Remembering her success, they pay dearly for the right to kiss corporate toads, expecting wondrous transfigurations.” Unfortunately, said Buffett, “We’ve observed many kisses but very few miracles.

She had told the frog, "Certainly, anything"; and her father had brought her up to understand that she must always keep her word, the more so because as Princess there was no one who could force her to.

During the rainy seasons, life sprang up all over the place, and in the ponds and rivers life was abundant. Hoppy was born on a day in May in what was considered to be spring rain. Early in his froghood, Hoppy's identity was like all others, and what he wanted most was to have his own identity.

You’re like the warrior princess of the Tate universe,” said Noel. He lowered his voice to sound like a TV announcer: “No matter what they said about her. No matter what people thought! Ruby Oliver was undaunted. She gave parties, she kissed other people’s boyfriends, she held hands with strange men. In her magical silver dress, she kicked the asses of one and all who dared to stand in her way…

I don't know what I should be doing here, but I know we should be doing it together. More than the magic or ruling Kalum or anything else, I want you by my side.

Just because the people want a king doesn't mean they should get one or that you should be it.

I'm a frog, and I'm going to be your guardian.