Solitaire Diamond Quotes

A joker is a little fool who is different from everyone else. He's not a club, diamond, heart, or spade. He's not an eight or a nine, a king or a jack. He is an outsider. He is placed in the same pack as the other cards, but he doesn't belong there. Therefore, he can be removed without anybody missing him.

I don't belong anywhere. I am neither a heart, a diamond, a club, nor a spade. I am neither a King, a Jack, an Eight, nor an Ace. As I am here - I am merely the Joker, and who that is I have had to find out for myself. Every time I toss my head, the jingling bells remind me that I have no family. I have no number - and no trade either. I have gone around observing your activities from the outside. Because of this I have also been able to see things to which you have been blind. Every morning you have gone to work, but you have never been fully awake. It is different for the Joker, because he was put into this world with a flaw: he sees too deeply and too much. Truth is a lonely thing.

I don't belong anywhere. I am neither a heart, a diamond, a club, nor a spade. I am neither a King, a Jack, an Eight, nor an Ace. As I am here - I am merely the Joker, and who that is I have had to find out for myself.

All geniuses are peculiarly inclined to solitude, to which they are driven as much by their difference from others as the inner wealth with which they are quipped, since among humans, among diamonds, only the uncommonly great are suited as solitaires: the ordinary ones must be set in clusters to produce any effect.

Girls from my graduating class come into the store brandishing solitaire diamonds like Legion of Honor medals, as if they’ve accomplished something significant—which I guess they think they have, though all I can see is a future of washing some man’s clothes stretching ahead of them.

Rain-diamonds, this winter morning, embellish the tangle of unpruned pear-tree twigs; each solitaire, placed, it appears, with considered judgement, bears the light beneath the rifted clouds - the invisible shared out in endless abundance.

For some reason she found that Allan Harrington's attitude of absolute detachment made the whole affair seem much easier for her. And when Mrs. Harrington slipped a solitaire diamond into her hand as she went, instead of disliking it she enjoyed its feel on her finger, and the flash of it in the light. She thanked Mrs. Harrington for it with real gratitude. But it made her feel more than ever engaged to marry her mother-in-law.

I don't have diamonds or solitaires now, but with this water of the pool and this bottle of beer, I vow before you to love you forever.

The old woman sat in her leather recliner, the footrest extended, a dinner tray on her lap. By candlelight, she turned the cards over, halfway through a game of Solitaire. Next door, her neighbors were being killed. She hummed quietly to herself. There was a jack of spades. She placed it under the queen of hearts in the middle column. Next a six of diamonds. It went under the seven of spades. Something crashed into her front door. She kept turning the cards over. Putting them in their right places. Two more blows. The door burst open. She looked up. The monster crawled inside, and when it saw her sitting in the chair, it growled. “I knew you were coming,” she said. “Didn’t think it’d take you quite so long.” Ten of clubs. Hmm. No home for this one yet. Back to the pile. The monster moved toward her. She stared into its small, black eyes. “Don’t you know it’s not polite to just walk into someone’s house without an invitation?” she asked. Her voice stopped it in its tracks. It tilted its head. Blood—from one of her neighbor’s no doubt—dripped off its chest onto the floor. Belinda put down the next card. “I’m afraid this is a one-player game,” she said, “and I don’t have any tea to offer you.” The monster opened its mouth and screeched a noise out of its throat like the squawk of a terrible bird. “That is not your inside voice,” Belinda snapped. The abby shrunk back a few steps. Belinda laid down the last card. “Ha!” She clapped. “I just won the game.” She gathered up the cards into a single deck, split it, then shuffled. “I could play Solitaire all day every day,” she said. “I’ve found in my life that sometimes the best company is your own.” A growl idled again in the monster’s throat. “You cut that right out!” she yelled. “I will not be spoken to that way in my own home.” The growl changed into something almost like a purr. “That’s better,” Belinda said as she dealt a new game. “I apologize for yelling. My temper sometimes gets the best of me.

The words on the page swam together as a black velvet box holding an enormous diamond solitaire burned a hole in his pocket.

They watched in silence as the sliver turned into a semicircle, and the semicircle became a glowing pink globe, balanced on the horizon. She was in awe of the beauty. Of the very idea that this happened every morning behind the scenes while she slept. Beau shifted, his hand leaving her stomach, and she missed it. But it returned a moment later, holding something small and square. He opened the box, and her eyes widened. She sucked in a breath. A solitaire diamond winked back, reflecting the pink rays of dawn. She turned and met his eyes, those beautiful brown eyes, focused solely on her. “I love you, Eden Martelli,” he said in that low, smoky voice. “I love your beautiful smile and the way your laugh brightens the whole room. I love your warm heart and your quiet strength. I love how tender you are with Micah.” She placed her palm over her aching heart, catching her breath as he continued. “I want nothing more than to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to cherish you every day. I want to laugh together and celebrate every new beginning together. I want to be Micah’s daddy—and maybe give him a brother or sister or two . . .” His lips kicked up at the corners. They went flat again as a somber look washed over his eyes. “You’re the love of my life, Eden. Will you marry me?” “Oh, Beau . . .” He took her breath away. He made her believe in new beginnings and happily-ever-afters. “I don’t want to rush you. We can be engaged for as long as you want, but you’re it for me. You’re the one. There’ll never be another.” “Yes,” she breathed. “I want all of that, and I want it with you.

Perfection I love the irony that only something flagrantly flawed, like us, can create perfect contempt (perfection being the most elusive of states), and something flawless, like a diamond (a solitaire which boasts no inclusions or blemishes), can create endless misgivings if it winds up on the finger of the wrong woman. On the other hand, marrying that bitch was a perfect mistake.

He watched the scene unfolding at Rashtrapati Bhavan. The President was administering the oath of office to the charismatic woman. She was dressed in her usual off-white cotton saree, trimmed with a pale gold border, and wore no jewellery except for a pair of simple solitaire diamond earrings. She quite

Just glad he’s not in pain anymore. He’ll have fun drawing pictures on the cast, getting autographs. When the itching starts, tell him to use a blow drier set on cool to blow air inside it.” “You’ve broken an arm?” “And a leg and a wrist.” “Oh my. You must’ve been a handful.” He chuckled. “And then some.” He had a feeling some of his escapades would shock the stockings right off her. But with the kind of childhood he’d had, he was lucky he wasn’t rotting in jail. “Never broke a bone?” he asked. She shook her head. She’d probably never stepped in a mud puddle, much less broken a bone. The same could probably be said for her anal-retentive fiancé. Not fair, Walker. You don’t even know him. He glanced at her hand in the darkened cab. The diamond glimmered under a passing streetlamp—an ordinary solitaire diamond. Boring. He’d buy his woman something unique, something that suited her, something different and special. Not that he had a woman. “Sit

We were putting everything away when a guitar started coming through the speakers. Figuring one of the guys had turned on the music, we thought nothing of it and I kept talking to Bryce until I heard a husky voice join in. I abruptly stopped talking and stood there with two glasses in my hands just staring at the wall that separated us from the area that held the stage. I bit my lip to contain my smile as I heard the first few lines of “Your Guardian Angel.” It didn’t matter what type of song it was; Kash could sing it. And in his deep voice? Lord, it was a treat. He’d just started the second verse of the song by The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus when I rounded the corner and leaned up against the wall to watch him. His lips curled up when he saw me enter the dim room, and other than the few times he’d look down when he was only playing the guitar, he kept his gray eyes trained on me. I took in the words like I was hearing them for the first time, because Kash had told me last week after dancing with me in my kitchen that he would only sing me songs that meant something for us. My heart beat wildly as I felt every word go straight to my soul, and I subconsciously grabbed at my warming chest. When his words trailed off and his hand stopped strumming the guitar, I was still leaning against the wall, hoping it would keep me standing as he set the guitar down and stepped off the stage. Much like the first night he sang to me in the bar, his stride was purposeful as he made his way toward me. Only this time, I didn’t turn and run. His smile grew when he got closer to me, but he didn’t pull me into his arms like he normally would. Just as I started to push myself off the wall, he spoke, his voice gruff. “I didn’t do this right the first time.” Dropping slowly to one knee, he grabbed my left hand and brought a diamond solitaire up to my ring finger. “Rachel Masters, I promise to love you and take care of you . . . no matter the cost, every day for the rest of my life. Will you marry me?” “Yes,” I whispered, and bounced on my toes when he slid the ring onto my finger. Grabbing his face, I pulled him up and kissed him with every bit of passion in my body.

drawing pad. He withdrew it and

It’s a three-carat, round-cut solitaire diamond on a yellow gold band. I bought it the week she moved in with me last year. You know…just in case.

Arie looked at the book. There was a little piece of paper that marked a page near the front cover. She opened up the book. Arie – Remember that wherever your heart is, there you will find your treasure. Be always faithful to your destiny. Paulo Coelho Arie gasped. It was a signed copy. Made out to her. How could that be? She looked from the book, at Noah, and noticed that he was down on one knee. “Arabella, I love you because the universe conspired to help me find you. You are more than the love of my life. You are my best friend, my confidant, and a mirror of who I am. Paulo Coelho said, ‘To realize one’s destiny is a person’s only obligation.’ Mine is to be with you. Will you make me the happiest person on earth and be my wife?” “Oh my gosh!” Arie exclaimed. Noah pulled out a navy velvet box. It held a beautiful three-carat, white diamond, princess cut solitaire ring. “Will you marry me?” Noah asked.

The solitaire diamond ring on my finger still felt a bit foreign against my knuckle. But someday, after I’d worn it for decades, I hoped that whenever I slipped it off, I’d see its indentation in my skin.

Life often changes the rules, but there is nothing a diamond cannot make brighter.

However, the good news was that smaller, more flawed diamonds could potentially yield exceptional brilliance if given just the right cut and polish—only at a lesser price, which often gave more people hope. It is thanks to these smaller, more imperfect diamonds that the vast majority with modest means could experience the elation of sporting the empress of gemstones. Smaller diamonds undoubtedly possessed this unique power in their numbers.

If only children could be more like diamonds. At least they could then be faceted by the numbers and shine according to the maker’s cut and polish grade. Plus, diamonds did not get hurt. I almost slapped myself for constantly thinking about diamonds, even in terms of my own children, who, unlike diamonds, could actually love me back.

I am the Joker!” he exclaimed. “Don’t forget that, dear master. I’m not as clear-cut as all the others, you see. I am neither King nor Jack, nor am I diamond, club, heart, or spade.