Kiss A Few Frogs Quotes

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.

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.

Drat. Daisy pulled back with a frown. She felt guilty that she had enjoyed the kiss so little. And it made her feel even worse when it appeared Llandrindon had enjoyed it quite a lot. “My dear Miss Bowman,” Llandrindon murmured flirtatiously. “You didn’t tell me you tasted so sweet.” He reached for her again, and Daisy danced backward with a little yelp. “My lord, control yourself!” “I cannot.” He pursued her slowly around the fountain until they resembled a pair of circling cats. Suddenly he made a dash for her, catching at the sleeve of her gown. Daisy pushed hard at him and twisted away, feeling the soft white muslin rip an inch or two at the shoulder seam. There was a loud splash and a splatter of water drops. Daisy stood blinking at the empty spot where Llandrindon had been, and then covered her eyes with her hands as if that would somehow make the entire situation go away. “My lord?” she asked gingerly. “Did you… did you just fall into the fountain?” “No,” came his sour reply. “You pushed me into the fountain.” “It was entirely unintentional, I assure you.” Daisy forced herself to look at him. Llandrindon rose to his feet, water streaming from his hair and clothes, his coat pockets filled to the brim. It appeared the dip in the fountain had cooled his passions considerably. He glowered at her in affronted silence. Suddenly his eyes widened, and he reached into one of his water-laden coat pockets. A tiny frog leaped from the pocket and returned to the fountain with a quiet plunk. Daisy tried to choke back her amusement, but the harder she tried the worse it became, until she finally burst out laughing. “I’m sorry,” she gasped, clapping her hands over her mouth, while irrepressible giggles slipped out. “I’m so— oh dear—” And she bent over laughing until tears came to her eyes. The tension between them disappeared as Llandrin don began to smile reluctantly. He stepped from the fountain, dripping from every surface. “I believe when you kiss the toad,” he said dryly, “he is supposed to turn into a prince. Unfortunately in my case it doesn’t seem to have worked.” Daisy felt a rush of sympathy and kindness, even as she snorted with a few last giggles. Approaching him carefully, she placed her small hands on either side of his wet face and pressed a friendly, fleeting kiss on his lips. His eyes widened at the gesture. “You are someone’s handsome prince,” Daisy said, smiling at him apologetically. “Just not mine. But when the right woman finds you… how lucky she’ll be.

One compelling explanation for the elders’ greater contentment comes from the psychologist Laura L. Carstensen, founding director of the Stanford Center on Longevity. Her hypothesis, which she gave the wonky name “socioemotional selectivity,” is that older people, knowing they face a limited time in front of them, focus their energies on things that give them pleasure in the moment, whereas young people, with long horizons, seek out new experiences or knowledge that may or may not pay off down the line. Young people fret about the things they don’t have and might need later; old people winnow the things they have to the few they most enjoy. Young people kiss frogs hoping they’ll turn into princes. Old people kiss their grandchildren. “It’s hard to get an eighty-five-year-old to take inorganic chemistry,” Carstensen said. Maybe old people live literally like there’s no tomorrow.

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.

Hey, be patient you'll have to kiss a few frogs before you find one that's your prince

I’ll have you know, there are plenty of women around here who’d love to have dinner with me.” He smiled as she turned back to him, skepticism clearly written on her face. “Well, you know what they say. We women have to kiss a few frogs to find Prince Charming, so . . .” Chase arched his brows as a grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Bailey, are you offering to kiss me?” “I’d rather kiss—” “Ah-ah,” he warned with a laugh. “You should be careful. With all the animals your cousins have around here, whichever one you pick could probably be arranged.

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.

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.

Besides, it’s normal to have to kiss a few frogs, or kill a few husbands, before you find your prince;

Anyway, you’ve got to fuck a few frogs before you kiss your prince there, Cinderella,