Nita Prose Quotes

Everything will be okay in the end. If it's not okay, it's not the end.

My truth is not the same as yours because we don’t experience life in the same way.

That’s the trouble with pain. It’s a contagious as a disease. It spreads from the person who first endured it to those who love them most. Truth isn’t always the highest ideal’ sometimes it must be sacrificed to stop the spread of pain to those you love.

I’ll never understand it—why people find the truth more shocking than lies.

It’s easier than you’d ever think—existing in plain sight while remaining largely invisible. That’s what I’ve learned from being a maid.

We’re all entitled to a bad day now and again, I heard Gran say in my head. But when they are all bad days, with no pleasant ones, then it’s time to reconsider things.

People are a mystery that can never be solved.

Vile and evil are composed of the same letters. One begets the other.

No one is too high or too low for common courtesy.

Cheryl may be my boss, but she’s definitely not my superior. There is a difference, you know. You can’t judge a person by the job they do or by their station in life; you must judge a person by their actions.

Laughs are just like smiles. People use them to express an array of confounding emotions.

The longer you live, the more you learn. People are a mystery that can never be solved. Life has a way of sorting itself out. Everything will be okay in the end. If it’s not okay, it’s not the end.

I don't believe that some people are more important than other people. We're all very important in our own way.

For the first time in my life, I think I understand what a true friend is. It isn't just someone who likes you; it's someone willing to take action on your behalf.

Monday, floors and chores. Tuesday, deep cleaning to give meaning. Wednesday, bath and kitchen. Thursday, dust we must. Friday, wash-and-dry day. Saturday, wild card. Sunday, shop and chop.

I've been called many a thing in my quarter century, and what I've learned is that the common expression about sticks and stones often hurt far less than words.

That's how a friendship is built, one small truth at a time. [Molly Gray]

I am your maid. I know so much about you. But when it comes down to it: what is that you know about me?

Gran used to say, Never mind what others think; it's what you think that matters. And I agree. One must live by their own moral code, not follow like a sheep blindly.

We are all the same in different ways.

It’s funny the way memories bubble up whenever I clean. I do wonder if that’s the same for everyone—for everyone who cleans, that is.

A good cup of tea cures all ills. And if it doesn't, have another.

In real life, the actions you take can change the results, from sad to happy, from disappointing to satisfactory, from wrong to right.

That’s the trouble with pain. It’s as contagious as a disease. It spreads from the person who first endured it to those who love them most. Truth isn’t always the highest ideal; sometimes it must be sacrificed to stop the spread of pain to those you love. Even children know this intuitively.

I don’t cut corners, I shine them.

You can't judge a person by the job they do or by their station in life; you must judge a person by their actions.

You can be so important, so crucial to the fabric of things and yet be entirely overlooked.

Never leave a mess to be discovered by a guest.

When all else fails, tidy up.

One thing I’ve learned in my business is that you can hide dirt for a while, but at some point, it all comes to the surface.

.. it doesn't matter if you understand another person's pain because their injury is real nonetheless.

Everything will be okay in the end. If it’s not okay, it’s not the end.

The truth is, I often have trouble with social situations; it’s as though everyone is playing an elaborate game with complex rules they all know, but I’m always playing for the first time.

If only it were that easy,” she said. “But time, Miss Molly. Time heals all wounds, as they say.” She was right. As time passes, the wound doesn’t hurt as much as it did at first, and that’s always a surprise—to feel a little bit better and yet to miss the past.

Poor company is worse than none.

God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

As for order, it is my express wish to live as ordered a life as possible. But the world is filled with random chaos that often devils my attempts at arrangement.

It’s a fault of mine, to be quick to judge or to want the world to function according to my laws.

We're all entitled to a bad day now and again, I heard Gran say in my head. But when they are all bad days, with no pleasant ones, then it's time to reconsider things.

Never mind what others think; it's what you think that matters.

The world is a better place seen through a prism of colors rather than merely in black and white. In this new world, there is room for versions and variations, for shades of gray.

I’ve been called many a thing in my quarter century, and what I’ve learned is that the common expression about sticks and stones is backward: sticks and stones often hurt far less than words.

What a day it has been, what a day indeed. It is one I'd rather forget than remember, and yet it doesn't work that way. We bury the bad memories deep, but they don't go away. They're within us all the time. [Molly Gray]

Today at work, I found a guest very dead in his bed. Mr. Black. The Mr. Black. Other than that, my work day was as normal as ever.

Perhaps it’s an occupational hazard: I see dirt where others don’t.

I do sometimes feel angry. Especially when guests are careless. When they forget that their actions have an impact on others, when I’m treated like I don’t matter.

Treat others the way you wish to be treated. We’re all the same in different ways. Everything will be okay in the end. If it’s not okay, it’s not the end.

My uniform is my freedom. It is the ultimate invisibility cloak.

Tuesday, deep cleaning to give meaning. Wednesday, bath and kitchen. Thursday, dust we must. Friday, wash-and-dry day. Saturday, wild card. Sunday, shop and chop.

You can fight monsters you can see, or you can run away from them. But the invisible ones are inescapable.

Yesterday was a jolt to my system. Today is also a jolt but in a much more pleasant and exciting way. It goes to show you that you just never know what surprises life has in store for you.

It’s not your station in life that matters. It’s how you conduct yourself that counts.

She believed in politeness and treating people with respect. It’s not your station in life that matters. It’s how you conduct yourself that counts.

Never ask what a gentleman did or didn’t do. If he’s a true gentleman, he did it with good cause. And if he’s a true gentleman, he’ll never tell.

If all of this has taught me anything, it is this: there’s a power in me I never knew was there.

Truth isn’t always the highest ideal; sometimes it must be sacrificed to stop the spread of pain to those you love.

And if I’ve learned anything about the way money works, it’s that it magnetized toward those born with it, leaving those who need it most without.

My truth is not the same as yours because we don’t experience life in the same way. We are all the same in different ways.

No one is too high or too low for common courtesy,

That’s the trouble with pain. It’s as contagious as a disease. It spreads from the person who first endured it to those who love them most.

Vanessa proves what Hamlet always knew: you really can smile and smile and still be a villain.

One foot in front of the other. It's the only way to get anywhere in this life.

One must live by her own moral code, not follow like a sheep, blindly.

Yes, sir. Would you like free salad and garlic bread?” “No, that’s fine,” Rodney answered, which, I’ll admit, was a minor disappointment.

And the more I understand, the more questions I have

What happened at school was bad enough, but Gran knowing about my suffering meant she experienced my pain too. That’s the trouble with pain. It’s as contagious as a disease. It spreads from the person who first endured it to those who love them most. Truth isn’t always the highest ideal; sometimes it must be sacrificed to stop the spread of pain to those you love. Even children know this intuitively.

A clean home, a clean body, and clean company. Do you know where that leads?' I could not have been more than five years old when she taught me this. I looked way up at her as she spoke. 'Where does it lead, Gran?' 'To a clean conscience. To a good, clean life.

Keep It Simple, Stupid.

We must be like bamboo. We must learn to bend and flex with the wind.

I'm not sure that I've enjoyed the doors that have opened today, nor the experiences I've had, but I do hope they lead to personal growth in the long run.

Sometimes, you must do one thing bad to do another thing good. It’s not always so clear, so black and white like everyone thinks. Especially when you don’t have choices.

Isn’t it interesting how luxury has an unmistakable scent, as unmistakable as fear or death?

There’s nothing quite like a perfectly stocked maid’s trolley early in the morning. It is, in my humble opinion, a cornucopia of bounty and beauty.

I say. “As for order, it is my express wish to live as ordered a life as possible. But the world is filled with random chaos that often bedevils my attempts at arrangement

Containment—an old actors’ trick. Arms by your sides. Put all that energy into your voice and eyes. Don’t move a muscle.

Isn’t it interesting how a person can be as present after death as they were in real life?

It's a matter of polish," I say. "With most things, especially masterpieces, it's about removing the tarnish to reveal the shine.

To err once is human; to err twice is idiotic.

We’re all the same in different ways. Everything will be okay in the end. If it’s not okay, it’s not the end.

But then something out of the ordinary occurs—such as finding Mr. Black very dead in his bed—and suddenly the day crystalizes, turns from gas to solid in an instant.

It’s always like this at dusk—as if the day is throwing the last of its energy up the steps while the hotel itself patiently waits for the calm of night to come.

When you assume, you make an ASS out of U and ME.

The truth is, I often have trouble with social situations; it’s as though everyone is playing an elaborate game with complex rules they all know, but I’m always playing for the first time. I make etiquette mistakes with alarming regularity, offend when I mean to compliment, misread body language, say the wrong thing at the wrong time.

I wasn’t one hundred percent sure what it was I’d seen. I’ve learned to doubt myself and my perceptions of the world around me. I do realize I’m different, you know, different from most. What I perceive isn’t what you perceive. Plus, people don’t always listen to me. I’m often afraid I won’t be believed, that my thoughts will be discounted. I’m just a maid, a nobody. And what I saw in that moment, it felt like a dream, but I know now that it was real. Someone with a deep motive killed Mr. Black. And that wasn’t me,” I said. I looked at Rodney then, and he looked at me. There was a look on his face that was entirely new. It was as though, for the very first time, he was seeing me for who I really am.

Justice is like truth – it, too, is subjective. So many of those who deserve to be punished never receive their just deserts, and in the meantime, good people, decent people, are charged with the wrong crimes. It’s a flawed system – justice – a dirty, messy, imperfect system. But if the good people accept personal responsibility for exacting justice, would we not have a better chance of cleaning the entire world, of holding the liars, the cheaters, the users, and the abusers to account?

I didn’t tell the truth because the truth hurt. What happened at school was bad enough, but Gran knowing about my suffering meant she experienced my pain too. That’s the trouble with pain. It’s as contagious as a disease. It spreads from the person who first endured it to those who love them most. Truth isn’t always the highest ideal; sometimes it must be sacrificed to stop the spread of pain to those you love. Even children know this intuitively.

I knew she was in great pain, though she took great pains to deny it.

She believed in the three E’s—Etiquette, Elocution, and Erudition.

Today is not yesterday. Today is a brand-new day.

Count your blessings.

and suddenly the day crystalizes, turns from gas to solid in an instant.

You can’t judge a person by the job they do or by their station in life; you must judge a person by their actions.

make etiquette mistakes with alarming regularity, offend when I mean to compliment, misread body language, say the wrong thing at the wrong time.

Cleanliness is next to godliness, my gran used to say, and I believe that’s a better tenet to live by than most.

Cheryl may be my boss, but she’s definitely not my superior. There is a difference, you know. You can’t judge a person by the job they do or by their station in life; you must judge a person by their actions

Once I'm through the doors, I often pause to take in the grandeur of the lobby. It never tarnishes. It never grows drab or dusty. It never dulls or fades. It is blessedly the same each and every day. There's the reception and concierge to the left, with its midnight-obsidian counter and smart-looking receptionists in black and white, like penguins. And there's the ample lobby itself, laid out in a horseshoe, with its fine Italian marble floors that radiate pristine white, drawing the eye up, up to the second-floor terrace. There are the ornate Art Deco features of the terrace and the grand marble staircase that brings you there, balustrades glowing and opulent, serpents twisting up to golden knobs held static in brass jaws. Guests will often stand at the rails, hands resting on a glowing post, as they survey the glorious scene below—porters marching crisscross, dragging suitcases behind them, guests lounging in sumptuous armchairs or couples tucked into emerald love seats, their secrets absorbed into the deep, plush velvet.

That's the trouble with pain. It's as contagious as a disease. It spreads from the person who first endured it to theose who love them most. Truth isn't always the highest ideal; sometimes it must be sacrificed to stop the spread of pain to those you love. Even children know this intuitively.

It’s easier than you’d ever think—existing in plain sight while remaining largely invisible. That’s what I’ve learned from being a maid. You can be so important, so crucial to the fabric of things and yet be entirely overlooked. It’s a truth that applies to maids, and to others as well, so it seems. It’s a truth that cuts close to the bone.

I pick up one neat quarter of my raisin-bran muffin. How lovely. It’s fresh. Isn’t it interesting that this shop bakes goods in the late afternoon? You wouldn’t think many people would choose muffins in the afternoon, but there you have it. Perhaps there are others out there in the world just like me. People are a mystery that can never be solved.

Iwalk at a leisurely pace back to my apartment. It’s funny how when you’re feeling the impact of stress, it’s hard to appreciate the small, inspiring things around you—the birds chirping their last lullabies before puffing up for a night’s sleep, the cotton-candy sky as the sun sets, the fact that you’re on your way home and unlike every other day for the last several months, when you open your front door, there will be a friend there waiting for you. It may be the first time since Gran’s death that I feel such a sense of hope. Everything will be okay in the end. If it’s not okay, it’s not the end.