Muddy Princess Quotes

Christian stretched out beside her and pulled her close. ʺBut for what itʹs worth, I think youʹd be a great queen too, Princess Dragomir.ʺ ʺYouʹre going to get dirty,ʺ she warned. ʺAlready am. Oh, you mean from your clothes?ʺ He wrapped his arms around her, heedless of her damp and muddy state. ʺI spent most of my childhood hiding in a dusty attic and own exactly one dress shirt. You really think I care about this T-shirt?ʺ

(This was long after hairdressers; in truth, ever since there have been women, there have been hairdressers, Adam being the first, though the King James scholars do their very best to muddy this point.)

Our princess moaned and wept. Her tears fell on the elder-stump, and it was quite moved, for it was the Marsh King himself, who lives in the quagmire. I saw the stump turn itself, so it wasn’t only a trunk, for it put out long, muddy boughs like arms. Then the unhappy girl was frightened, ans sprang aside into the quivering marsh, which will not bear me, much less her. In at once she sank, and down with her went the elder-stump - it was he who pulled her down. Then a few big black bubbles, and no trace of her left. She is engulfed in the marsh, and will never return to Egypt with her flower…

Never play the princess when you can be the queen: rule the kingdom, swing a scepter, wear a crown of gold. Don’t dance in glass slippers, crystal carving up your toes -- be a barefoot Amazon instead, for those shoes will surely shatter on your feet. Never wear only pink when you can strut in crimson red, sweat in heather grey, and shimmer in sky blue, claim the golden sun upon your hair. Colors are for everyone, boys and girls, men and women -- be a verdant garden, the landscape of Versailles, not a pale primrose blindly pushed aside. Chase green dragons and one-eyed zombies, fierce and fiery toothy monsters, not merely lazy butterflies, sweet and slow on summer days. For you can tame the most brutish beasts with your wily wits and charm, and lizard scales feel just as smooth as gossamer insect wings. Tramp muddy through the house in a purple tutu and cowboy boots. Have a tea party in your overalls. Build a fort of birch branches, a zoo of Legos, a rocketship of Queen Anne chairs and coverlets, first stop on the moon. Dream of dinosaurs and baby dolls, bold brontosaurus and bookish Belle, not Barbie on the runway or Disney damsels in distress -- you are much too strong to play the simpering waif. Don a baseball cap, dance with Daddy, paint your toenails, climb a cottonwood. Learn to speak with both your mind and heart. For the ground beneath will hold you, dear -- know that you are free. And never grow a wishbone, daughter, where your backbone ought to be.

a man comes up to me, begging me to let him know if i see any family photos on the muddy, littered ground. he doesn’t care that his home has been reduced to a pile of rubble, that he has lost every last stitch of clothing, every last book, every last electronic. he just wants a way to remember.

i walk to where the road meets the sidewalk. a man comes up to me, begging me to let him know if i see any family photos on the muddy, littered ground. he doesn't care that his home has been reduced to a pile of rubble, that he has lost every last stitch of clothing, every last book, every last electronic. he just wants a way to remember. - hurricane sandy

Briette balled up the rag and flung it down. It struck the marble floor with a wet smack. She worked herself down to sit in the window niche and pried off her cumbersome shoes. At least the midsummer ball wasn’t held in her castle. It spared her the task of scrubbing away the marks of muddy heels tomorrow. The ball was being given by the Duke of Merridell in the kingdom’s wealthiest town. Briette

The dead cannot sleep long when the moon is round The dead toss and turn deep in the muddy ground The dead never rest well in the living house The dead hear the secrets the owl tells the mouse