Prim Quotes

#1. I can almost hear Haymitch groaning as I team up with this wispy child. But I want her. Because she's a survivor, and I trust her, and why not admit it? She reminds me of Prim. #Quote by Suzanne Collins

#2. Later on in Culture and Society, Williams scores a few points by reprinting some absolutist sentences that, taken on their own, represent exaggerations or generalisations. It was a strength and weakness of Orwell's polemical journalism that he would begin an essay with a bold and bald statement designed to arrest attention - a tactic that, as Williams rightly notices, he borrowed in part from GK Chesterton and George Bernard Shaw. No regular writer can re-read his own output of ephemera without encountering a few wince-making moments of this kind; Williams admits to 'isolating' them but has some fun all the same. The flat sentence 'a humanitarian is always a hypocrite' may contain a particle of truth - does in fact contain such a particle - but will not quite do on its own. Other passages of Orwell's, on the failure of the Western socialist movement, read more convincingly now than they did when Williams was mocking them, but are somewhat sweeping for all that. And there are the famous outbursts of ill-temper against cranks and vegetarians and homosexuals, which do indeed disfigure the prose and (even though we still admire Pope and Swift for the heroic unfairness of their invective) probably deserve rebuke. However, Williams betrays his hidden bias even when addressing these relatively easy targets. He upbraids Orwell for the repeated use of the diminutive word 'little' as an insult ('The typical Socialist ... a prim little man,' 'the typical little bowlerhatted sneak,' etc. #Quote by Christopher Hitchens

#3. Then I am pushing through the crowd, just as I did before. Trying to shout out her name above the roar. I'm almost there, almost to the barricade when I think she hears me. Because just for a moment, she catches sight of me, her lips form my name.
And that's when the rest of the parachutes go off. #Quote by Suzanne Collins

#4. I hate this image of me as a prim Edwardian. I want to shock everyone. #Quote by Helena Bonham Carter

#5. It is not," Valency could hear her mother's prim, dictatorial voice asserting, "it is not MAIDENLY to think about MEN. #Quote by L.M. Montgomery

#6. Up until recently, Milton thought of Tessie as his prim cousin. Whenever one of his friends expressed interest in her, Milton told them to give up the idea. "That's honey from the icebox," he said, As Artie Shaw might have. "Cold sweets don't spread. #Quote by Jeffrey Eugenides

#7. Rumors chase the dead like flies, and we follow them with our prim noses. None of us are gossips, but we love listening to those who are. #Quote by Stephen L. Carter

#8. A woman can be demure, lady-like and the most prim and proper character, and still have a toughness and resiliency as apparent as a superhero-type female character or a warrior or soldier type. It's all about the story, the character, and the course of events in that piece of work and how that character is presented. #Quote by Katherine McNamara

#9. What am I? Chopped liver? Is there some specific reason he never pulls me over close to him as we drive around the countryside? Why doesn't he hook his right arm affectionately around my neck and claim me as the woman of his pickup? I never knew I had such a yearning to ride next to a man in a pickup, but apparently it had been a suppressed lifelong dream I knew nothing about. Suddenly, sitting in that pickup with Marlboro Man, I'd apparently never wanted anything so badly in my life.
I couldn't keep quiet about it any longer. "So…," I began. Was it just a high school thing? Or worse, I imagined, is it just that I'm not and never will be a country girl? Is it that country girls have some wild sense of abandon that I wasn't born with? A reckless side, a fun, adventurous side that makes them worthy of riding next to boys in pickups? Am I untouchable? Am I too prim? Too proper? I'm not! I'm really not! I'm fun and adventurous. Reckless, too! I have a pair of jeans: Anne Kleins! And I want to be Middle Seat Worthy. Please, Marlboro Man…please. I've never wanted anything this much. "So, um…why don't you do it anymore?" I asked.
"Bucket seats," Marlboro Man answered, his hand still resting on my leg.
Made sense. I settled in and relaxed a bit. #Quote by Ree Drummond

#10. The typical socialist ... a prim little man with a white-collar job, usually a secret teetotaler and often with vegetarian leanings. #Quote by George Orwell

#11. Let's have a little honesty," I said instead. "You want me every day. You want me every hour, just as I want you. You fantasize about my control, my commands, my gaze on your naked skin. You want me to hurt you. You want my cock inside you, fucking you until everything else falls away." With every word, her gaze flickered a little. The front of prim professionalism would never hide the need inside her. "Just admit it," I said quietly. "To me and to yourself. #Quote by Annabel Joseph

#12. Child of woe is wane and delicate ... sensitive and on the quiet side, she loves the picnics and outings to the underground caverns ... a solemn child, prim in dress and, on the whole, pretty lost ... secretive and imaginative, poetic, seems underprivileged and given to occasional tantrums ... has six toes on one foot ... #Quote by Charles Addams

#13. What I mean is that modern women like you are all, to a greater or lesser extend, hard...It's the yearning. Plainly and simply, it's the yearning."

Yearning? For what? {Miss Prim]

The yearning you all display to prove your worth, to show that you know this and that, to ensure that you can have it all. The yearning to succeed and, even more, the yearning not to fail; the yearning not to be seen as inferior, but instead even as superior, simply for being exactly what you believe you are, or rather what you've been made to believe you are. The inexplicable yearning for the world to give you credit simply for being women. {Lulu Thiberville] #Quote by Natalia Sanmartin Fenollera

#14. I reviewed in thought the modern era of raps and apparitions, beginning with the knockings of 1848, at the hamlet of Hydesville, N.Y., and ending with grotesque phenomena at Cambridge, Mass.; I evoked the anklebones and other anatomical castanets of the Fox sisters (as described by the sages of the University of Buffalo ); the mysteriously uniform type of delicate adolescent in bleak Epworth or Tedworth, radiating the same disturbances as in old Peru; solemn Victorian orgies with roses falling and accordions floating to the strains of sacred music; professional imposters regurgitating moist cheesecloth; Mr. Duncan, a lady medium's dignified husband, who, when asked if he would submit to a search, excused himself on the ground of soiled underwear; old Alfred Russel Wallace, the naive naturalist, refusing to believe that the white form with bare feet and unperforated earlobes before him, at a private pandemonium in Boston, could be prim Miss Cook whom he had just seen asleep, in her curtained corner, all dressed in black, wearing laced-up boots and earrings; two other investigators, small, puny, but reasonably intelligent and active men, closely clinging with arms and legs about Eusapia, a large, plump elderly female reeking of garlic, who still managed to fool them; and the skeptical and embarrassed magician, instructed by charming young Margery's "control" not to get lost in the bathrobe's lining but to follow up the left stocking until he reached the bare thigh - upon the wa #Quote by Vladimir Nabokov

#15. [She] had the indefinable charm of someone who said little but thought much. Miss Prim had always felt that such people were at a marked advantage. They never said anything tactless, never spouted nonsense, never had cause to regret their words or justify themselves. #Quote by Natalia Sanmartin Fenollera

#16. Now people are so concerned with virtue and innocence that they are blinded to the fact that when people get together, sex happens. We are held by societal standards that the body needs to be covered up and that we need to speak in prim and proper tones and words. Why, back in my day, clothing was optional! If you didn't want to wear trousers, you didn't have to! It was okay to go out and for everyone to see your( ... )dedication to freeing your spirit from the confines of rigid morals and ethics that had no bearing on who we were as individuals and as a whole. #Quote by T.J. Klune

#17. Zippers are primal and modern at the very same time. On the one hand, your zipper is primitive and reptilian, on the other mechanical and slick. A zipper is where the Industrial Revolution meets the Cobra Cult, don't you think? Ahh. Little alligators of ecstasy, that's what zippers are. Sexy, too. Now your button, a button is prim and persnickety. There's somethin' Victorian about a row o' buttons. But a zipper, why a zipper is the very snake at the gate of Eden, waitin' to escort a true believer into the Garden. Faith, I should be sewin' more zippers into me garments, for I have many erogenous zones that require speedy access. Mmm, old zipper creeper, hanging head down like the carcass of a lizard; the phantom viper that we shun in daytime and communicate with at night. #Quote by Tom Robbins

#18. I have always liked reading biographies. It is the ideal literary genre for someone too prim, like me, to acknowledge a gossipy interest in the living - don't you hate gossips, aren't they too awful? - but avid for any nuggets from the private lives of the dead because that is perfectly respectable, an altogether worthy and informative way of spending one's time. #Quote by Jill Tweedie

#19. I notice her blouse has pulled out of her skirt in the back again and force myself to stay calm. "Tuck your tail in, little duck," I say, smoothing the blouse back in place.
Prim giggles and give me a small "Quack."
"Quack yourself," I say with a light laugh. The kind only Prim can draw out of me. #Quote by Suzanne Collins

#20. But I feel as if I did know Rue, and she'll always be with me. Everything beautiful brings her to mind. I see her in the yellow flowers that grow in the Meadow by my house. I see her in the Mockingjays that sing in the trees. But most of all, I see her in my sister, Prim. #Quote by Suzanne Collins

#21. To the American, English writers are like prim spinsters fidgeting with the china, punctilious about good taste, and inwardly full of thwarted, tepid and perverse passions.
We see the Americans as gushing adolescents, repetitive and slangy, rather nasty sometimes in their zest for violence and bad language. #Quote by Evelyn Waugh

#22. I need you to find me a recipe for poison," he snapped. "Something that can kill the varmints that riddle this town."
"Animal varmints, or the human variety?" She was so prim when she said it, earning a reluctant twist of his lips as he tried not to smile. #Quote by Elizabeth Camden

#23. For Anne to take things calmly would have been to change her nature. All 'spirit and fire and dew,' as she was, the pleasures and pains of life came to her with trebled intensity. Marilla felt this and was vaguely troubled over it, realizing that the ups and downs of existence would probably bear hardly on this impulsive soul and not sufficiently understanding that the equally great capacity for delight might more than compensate. Therefore Marilla conceived it to be her duty to drill Anne into a tranquil uniformity of disposition as impossible and alien to her as to a dancing sunbeam in one of the brook shallows. She did not make much headway, as she sorrowfully admitted to herself. The downfall of some dear hope or plan plunged Anne into 'deeps of affliction.' The fulfillment thereof exalted her to dizzy realms of delight. Marilla had almost begun to despair of ever fashioning this waif of the world into her model little girl of demure manners and prim deportment. Neither would she have believed that she really liked Anne much better as she was. #Quote by L.M. Montgomery

#24. Almost all of my early art dealt with the fallout from middle-class taboos, the messy, the ambivalent emotions couples felt, the inherent racism, the sexual tensions and the unhappiness roiling below the surface of our prim suburban lives. Meanwhile I was a suburban bad boy - cynical, sarcastic, contemptuous of all authority. #Quote by Eric Fischl

#25. Mouth to continue, Haymitch plummets off the stage and knocks himself unconscious. He's disgusting, but I'm grateful. With every camera gleefully trained on him, I have just enough time to release the small, choked sound in my throat and compose myself. I put my hands behind my back and stare into the distance. I can see the hills I climbed this morning with Gale. For a moment, I yearn for something ... the idea of us leaving the district ... making our way in the woods ... but I know I was right about not running off. Because who else would have volunteered for Prim? Haymitch is whisked away on a stretcher, and Effie Trinket is trying to get the ball rolling again. What an #Quote by Suzanne Collins

#26. I protect Prim in every way I can, but I'm powerless against the reaping. #Quote by Suzanne Collins

#27. As for what I might wear, my mantra is that, no matter how chic the event, I don't want to look too prim. I like wearing short cocktail frocks to black-tie events; it just always feels more like me, and a bright red lip is always a staple. #Quote by Elisabeth Von Thurn Und Taxis

#28. Hailey Dashford Reid, with her silky brown hair and big, smoky blue eyes, all prim and proper and so fucking sexy it makes my nuts ache. Also, totally off-limits. #Quote by Ainsley Booth

#29. Don't think you'll shame me with your prim silence. I'm not ashamed in the least. Just because you make friends by acting as though you were found under a turnip leaf and raised by gnomes, it doesn't mean everyone takes pleasure in being prudish. #Quote by Tessa Dare

#30. When your friend is decomposing, surely you owe it to them to inhale their death. To do otherwise seems impossible prim. #Quote by Nick Harkaway

#31. It's like a detective novel, Prudencia. Just like one," the florist was saying. "What do you mean?" "Love, I mean love. It already exists, you can be sure. You just have to find out where, follow the trail, investigate. Exactly like a detective." Miss Prim laughed and replied: "But that's ridiculous. What you're telling me is that a candidate - the Candidate - already exists and I just have to find out who he is, is that right?" The #Quote by Natalia Sanmartin Fenollera

#32. Gentlemen, be courteous to the old maids, no matter how poor and plain and prim, for the only chivalry worth having is that which is the readiest to to pay deference to the old, protect the feeble, and serve womankind, regardless of rank, age, or color. #Quote by Louisa May Alcott

#33. Victories and defeats form part of everyone's life - everyone, that is, except cowards, as you call them, because they never lose or win. #Quote by Paulo Coelho

#34. Prim a doctor. She couldn't even dream of it in 12. Something small and quiet, like a match being struck, lights up the gloom inside me. This is the sort of future a rebellion could bring. #Quote by Suzanne Collins

#35. How did we go from tea to death so quickly?" wondered Quesnel. "Sometimes," said Prim darkly, "there is a very fine line between the two." "There's #Quote by Gail Carriger

#36. The cat that Prim got hates me, I think partly because I tried to drown it. #Quote by Suzanne Collins

#37. I lay in bed last night and thought of G.P. I thought of being in bed with him. I wanted to be in bed with him. I wanted the marvellous, the fantastic ordinariness of him. His promiscuity is creative. Vital. Even though it hurts. He creates love and life and excitement around him; he lives; the people he loves always remember him.
I've always felt like it sometimes. Promiscuous. Anyone I see, even just some boy in the Tube, some man, I think what he would be like in bed. I look at their mouths and their hands, put on a prim expression and think about them having me in bed.
Even Toinette, getting into bed with anyone. I used to think it was messy. But love is beautiful, any love. Even just sex. #Quote by John Fowles

#38. I've had a wonderful time in 'Foyle's War' and I don't mind being typecast. But I'm not prim. I'm chaotic, happy, and desperate to have some laughs. I'd love to do a comedy next, or something modern. #Quote by Honeysuckle Weeks

#39. And by the way, my dear,' he said, 'you might just mention to Mrs. Sutton that if she must read the morning paper before I come down, I should be obliged if she would fold it neatly afterwards.'
'What an old fuss-box you are, darling,' said his wife.
Mr. Mummery sighed. He could not explain that it was somehow important that the morning paper should come to him fresh and prim, like a virgin.
Women did not feel these things. ("Suspicion") #Quote by Dorothy L. Sayers

#40. And what of your children?" I gestured to the others at the table. "The only thing that divides us from that laborer who toils far beneath the surface of the earth in our fathers' mines is the blood that runs through our veins."
"Or half our blood," Vivian said with a sniff.
"Vivian,"Mr Kensington warned.
I didn't flinch. "Half my blood, then," I said with a prim nod back at Vivian. "But if I cut open my wrist alongside yours, would it not appear as the very same red? Despite your effort to be a blueblood, sister, you are as red-blooded as I. #Quote by Lisa Tawn Bergren

#41. Faith, you worry about the propriety of having one lover. At Court you would be considered uncommonly prim." "One lover is all I need," I said, snuggling deeper into his chest. "'Tis all you'll have." "And when my uncle promises me in marriage to some merchant?" I shifted my head, curious. "What will happen then?" "I'd not allow it. I'd marry you myself." His arm tightened. "I will not lose you. #Quote by Susanna Kearsley

#42. Games anyway. Who cares what they do to me? What really scares me is what they might do to my mother and Prim, how my family might suffer now because of my impulsiveness. Will they take their few belongings, or send my mother to prison and Prim to the community home, or kill them? They wouldn't kill them, would they? Why not? What do they #Quote by Suzanne Collins

#43. Who thinks they're not open-minded? Our hypothetical prim miss from the suburbs thinks she's open-minded. Hasn't she been taught to be? Ask anyone, and they'll say the same thing: they're pretty open-minded, though they draw the line at things that are really wrong. (Some tribes may avoid "wrong" as judgemental, and may instead use a more neutral sounding euphemism like "negative" or "destructive".)

When people are bad at math, they know it, because they get the wrong answers on tests. But when people are bad at open-mindedness they don't know it. In fact they tend to think the opposite. #Quote by Paul Graham

#44. No, of course not. The Redemption is nothing like a fairy tale, Miss Prim. Fairy tales and ancient legends arelike the Redemption. Haven't you ever noticed? It's like when you copy a tree from the garden on a piece of paper. The tree from the garden doesn't look like the drawing, does it? It's the drawing that's a bit, just a little bit, like the real tree. #Quote by Natalia Sanmartin Fenollera

#45. The girl behind the counter was prim, but bad at tying ribbons. Inexcusable. #Quote by Haruki Murakami

#46. Glancing at Danika, I notice she isn't wearing her normal 'look at me, all proper' style. Instead she has on jeans, a red t-shirt with the image of a smiling mushroom on it, and a pair of tennis shoes.
"Wow, you look ... different."
She cast a peek down at her clothes. "This was always my preferred style, but I thought I had to dress prim and proper to be taken seriously. But you know what I realized when I met you?"
"What?"
She takes a step forward, placing her hand over my heart. "It's not about appearances, it's about heart. #Quote by Brandy Nacole

#47. He glanced down at his naked chest. "Where's my shirt?" Cheeks heating, Tori reached behind him and snagged the dangling shirt sleeve and held it open for him to push his left arm through. When she finally found the wherewithal to look him in the face again, the teasing look in his pain-filled eyes nearly toppled her onto her backside. "Knew you liked my muscles." Of all the . . . Oh, who was she kidding? She did like his muscles. Though they both knew that had nothing to do with his shirt being undone. "Modesty is obviously not one of your virtues." She'd tried to make the statement sound prim, but it filtered through her smile and came out sounding flirtatious instead. Her. Flirtatious. Good grief. Head injuries must be contagious. Offering #Quote by Karen Witemeyer

#48. And there it was. The prim face of censure he'd been seeking. A strange sense of satisfaction descended on him. Divine justice, perhaps. Other men, better men, confessed their sins to priests and saints, but Gray had chosen for his confessor this governess. The most beautiful woman he'd ever set eyes on, in all his years of chasing pleasure from one horizon to the next. The only woman to stir this desperate yearning in his breast. And this was his penance-to watch her shrink back into her chair, to see those clear eyes glaze with mistrust as she at last recognized him for the devil he was.
Yes, this was his due. And she wasn't finished yet, his petite, austere inquisitor. #Quote by Tessa Dare

#49. I reach for Prim in the twilight, clamp my hand on her leg and pull myself over to her. Her voice remains steady as she croons to Buttercup. "It's all right, baby, it's all right. We'll be OK down there."
My mother wraps her arms around us. I allow myself to feel young for a moment and rest my head on her shoulder. #Quote by Suzanne Collins

#50. gives a faint shriek and Prim buries her face in her hands, but I feel more like the people I see in the crowd on television. Slightly baffled. What does it mean? Existing pool of victors? Then I get it, what it means. At least, for me. District 12 only has three existing victors to choose from. Two male. One female . . . I am going #Quote by Suzanne Collins

#51. [ ... ] in his whole life he had never acted as he wished to act. He considered himself the administrator of his own immortality, and that responsibility tied him down and turned him stiff and prim. #Quote by Milan Kundera

#52. The first 'Polly and the Pirates' is about a prim and proper girl who gets kidnapped out of her comfy boarding school by a bunch of pirates that think she's the daughter of their long lost queen. In the course of the adventure, she discovers she has a natural penchant for swashbuckling, despite her sheltered childhood. #Quote by Ted Naifeh

#53. Your prim faith in the True Sect's canon serves naught. The temple preaches a loveless morality that cares not one jot for the plight of our livelihood. The priests are fat parasites, theosophizing on their rumps while folk like us break our backs, milked dry by their tithes and their rote obligations. Where does their doctrine show the least concern for our chance to enjoy the fruits of our happiness? #Quote by Janny Wurts

#54. One feels almost laughably heavy-footed in pointing out that Mrs. Clinton's prim little book, It Takes a Village, proposes sexual abstinence for the young, and that the president was earnestly seconding this very proposal while using an impressionable intern as the physical rather than moral equivalent of a blow-up doll. #Quote by Christopher Hitchens

#55. She didn't overreact. It may have crossed her mind to march down to the woman responsible for sending this charity shitbox, but she didn't. She swallowed the glint of anger. She packed it into her prim-and-proper voice, and like her son, moved on. #Quote by Markus Zusak

#56. There is San Diego - this retirement village, with its prim petticoat, that doesn't want to get too near the water. San Diego worries about all the turds washing up on the lovely, pristine beaches of La Jolla. San Diego wishes Mexico would have fewer babies. And San Diego, like the rest of America, is growing middle-aged. #Quote by Richard Rodriguez

#57. Incredibly, there are people - smart people - who think a prim disdain for drama is somehow a sign of "good taste." It is more often the reverse: a lamentable insensitivity to the essence of the art, a failure to "get it" on the most essential level. It is more often a sign not of good taste but of artistic insecurity. Not knowing how far to go, the writer goes nowhere. Lifelessness is not a form of elegance you should pursue. #Quote by Stephen Koch

#58. So seek beauty, Miss Prim. Seek it in silence, in tranquillity; seek it in the middle of the night and at dawn. Pause to close doors while you seek it, and don't be surprised if it doesn't reside in museums or in palaces. Don't be surprised if, in the end, you find beauty to be not in Something but Someone. #Quote by Natalia Sanmartin Fenollera

#59. My character in 'Fresh Meat' is quite prim and tidy, and then I basically had no make-up for the whole shoot of 'Kidnap and Ransom' - apart from a bit of Vaseline to make me look even sweatier! #Quote by Kimberley Nixon

#60. ...I knew at times I have a loud chirp for such a petite bird, a chirp that some think is slanted, opinionated, and way too unladylike coming from a mouth as prim-looking as mine. Until I open it and the space between my two front teeth shoes. It's the space that everyone blames for my outspokenness, and although my parents don't really believe it, they use it, too. Whenever I say things that embarrass them, they're the first to tell people, 'It's that space between her two front teeth. Things just slip out of it, and she can't help it. We don't know what to do about it. #Quote by Christine Lemmon

#61. Ode to a Dressmaker's Dummy"

Papier-mache body; blue-and-black cotton jersey cover.
Metal stand. Instructions included. --Sears, Roebuck Catalogue

O my coy darling, still
You wear for me the scent
Of those long afternoons we spent,
The two of us together,
Safe in the attic from the jealous eyes
Of household spies
And the remote buffooneries of the weather;
So high,
Our sole remaining neighbor was the sky,
Which, often enough, at dusk,
Leaning its cloudy shoulders on the sill,
Used to regard us with a bored and cynical eye.

How like the terrified,
Shy figure of a bride
You stood there then, without your clothes,
Drawn up into
So classic and so strict a pose
Almost, it seemed, our little attic grew
Dark with the first charmed night of the honeymoon.
Or was it only some obscure
Shape of my mother's youth I saw in you,
There where the rude shadows of the afternoon
Crept up your ankles and you stood
Hiding your sex as best you could?--
Prim ghost the evening light shone through. #Quote by Donald Justice

#62. Back inside, I'm shown an antique cabinet in which members of the community, famous for their homegrown produce, dried herbs.
The Oneida Community was an upstate tourist attraction right from the start, second, Valesky says, to Niagara Falls. I'm taking the same guided tour offered a hundred and fifty years ago to prim rubbernecks who came here to peep at sex fiends. I wonder how many of my vacationing forebears went home disappointed? They thought they were taking the train to Gomorrah but instead they got to watch herbs dry. Valesky opens a drawer in the herb cabinet so I can get a whiff. He mentions that back in the day, when one tourist was shown the cabinet she rudely asked her community-member guide, "What's that odor?" To which the guide replied, "Perhaps it's the odor of crushed selfishness." Valesky grins. "How about that for a utopian answer?" To my not particularly utopian nose, crushed selfishness smells a lot like cilantro. #Quote by Sarah Vowell

#63. Love this job," Sanya murmured. "Just love it."
"I need to challenge more people to duels," Thomas said in agreement.
"Men are pigs," Murphy said.
"Amen," said Molly.
Lea gave me a prim look and said, "I've not sacrificed a holy virgin in ages. #Quote by Jim Butcher

#64. The white blouse can be light and floating, impeccable and austere, sumptuous and all-enveloping, tight and close-fitting. It rises up to frame the face. It sculpts the body by transforming itself into a second skin. Imputed with glamour and poetry, freedom and impetuousness, the prim white shirt turns out to have a thousand identities ... #Quote by Gianfranco Ferre

#65. I'm not very good with conventional, prim-and-proper people who are well-behaved, grown-up. #Quote by Lesley Nicol

#66. I'll keep the girl out of trouble," Gray said, in what seemed to him a rather magnanimous gesture. "I'll watch out for her."
"Oh, I've no doubt you will. But who's going to watch out for you?"
Gray's nerves prickled. So, it wasn't the girl Joss was concerned about. No, he expected Gray to cock it all up.
"Right, Joss. I'm an unprincipled, lecherous bastard." He paused, waiting for his brother to argue otherwise.
He didn't.
Gray protested. "She's a governess, for the love of gold. Prim, proper, starched, dull." Soft, he thought in counterpoint. Delicate, sweet. Intriguing.
"Ah. So you'll dally with any chambermaid or serving wench who'll lift her skirts, but you'd draw the line at seducing a governess?"
"Yes. Have a look at me, man." Gray smoothed his brushed velvet lapel, then gestured upward at the banners trimming the freshly tarred rigging. "Look at this ship. I'm telling you, my libertine days are over. I've gone respectable."
"It's easy to change your coat. It's a great deal harder to change your ways. #Quote by Tessa Dare

#67. Dreams. The face of the redheaded girl intertwines with gory images from earlier Hunger Games, with my mother withdrawn and unreachable, with Prim emaciated and terrified. I bolt up screaming for my father to run as the #Quote by Suzanne Collins

#68. I'm interested in a lot. Like right now, I'm just really excited for 'Catching Fire' and 'Mockingjay' Part 1 and 2. But I love playing characters like Prim - I mean, Prim is like my dream character - but after 'The Hunger Games', it would be fun to look and see what else I could do well. But right now, Prim is like my dream role. #Quote by Willow Shields

#69. Perhaps you are making a cat's paw of me with Phillotson all this time. Upon my word it almost seems so
to see you sitting up there so prim. #Quote by Thomas Hardy

#70. I only took off my shirt, Daniel. The bra isn't even all that revealing," she replied, cool as can be, plush mouth set all prim and proper. "If all it takes for you to lose your cool is the hint of hard nipple then I'm concerned on your behalf."
"Shit. Say hard nipple again."
Her body vibrated beneath him with soft laughter. "No. #Quote by Kylie Scott

#71. A pipe? A pipe?! Your mother would turn in her grave if she knew she'd spawned a daughter who smokes a pipe! Your poor mama was a pure lady. Prim and ladylike. She smoked menthol cigarettes, now that's feminine. #Quote by Jonathan Dunne

#72. Are you born again?" he asked, as we taxied down the runway. He was rather prim and tense, maybe a little like David Eisenhower with a spastic colon. I did not know how to answer for a moment.
"Yes," I said. "I am."
My friends like to tell each other that I am not really a born-again Christian. They think of me more along the lines of that old Jonathan Miller routine, where he said, "I'm not really a Jew -- I'm Jew-ish." They think I am Christian-ish. But I'm not. I'm just a bad Christian. A bad born-again Christian. And certainly, like the apostle Peter, I am capable of denying it, of presenting myself as a sort of leftist liberation-theology enthusiast and maybe sort of a vaguely Jesusy bon vivant. But it's not true. And I believe that when you get on a plane, if you start lying you are totally doomed.
So I told the truth; that I am a believer, a convert. I'm probably about three months away from slapping an aluminum Jesus-fish on the back of my car, although I first want to see if the application or stickum in any way interferes with my lease agreement. And believe me, all this boggles even *my* mind. But it's true. I could go to a gathering of foot-wash Baptists and, except for my dreadlocks, fit right in. I would wash their feet; I would let them wash mine. #Quote by Anne Lamott

#73. Some days, I want to be prim and proper, and others, I want to be in a band. #Quote by Melissa McCarthy

#74. In theory I rather admire the Spaniards for not sharing our Northern time-neurosis; but unfortunately I share it myself. #Quote by George Orwell

#75. This week I was watching the Rachel Maddow Show (you'd love her: she's funny and brilliant and just happens to be a stunning butch), and she was interviewing the outgoing attorney general, Loretta Lynch, about the country's post election future. The entire show was like a burst of hope so bright I almost had to put on sunglasses. The African American attorney general, prim and plump, sat perched on a barstool talking to a white butch lesbian who has her own national television news show! The event was being recorded in the Stonewall Inn, the site of one of the first places where queer people fought back against police violence! (I was so nervous about being a lesbian in 1969, I hid the tiny newspaper clipping from you.) Simply that the interview was happening made me remember that there are people in the world who are not such egotistical, political careerists as to believe that human rights don't matter. Then, as if just showing up wasn't enough, Attorney General Lynch spoke a truth that is hard to remember from our short-lived perspective: "History is bigger than one turn of the electoral wheel." During your eighty-eight years on this plane, you saw numerous turns of the wheel, and many of them did not land on a prize. Still, toward the end of your life, you took me in and bestowed not just a roof and clothes and food but the gift of your history and the knowledge that we find hope inside ourselves. #Quote by Jewelle L. Gómez

#76. Those children are right," he would have said. "They stole nothing from you, my dear. These things don't belong to you here, you now. They belonged to her, that other you, so long ago."
Oh, thought Mrs. Bentley. And then, as though an ancient phonograph record had been set hissing under a steel needle, she remembered a conversation she had once had with Mr. Bentley--Mr. Bentley, so prim, a pink carnation in his whisk-broomed lapel, saying, "My dear, you never will understand time, will you? You've always trying to be the things you were, instead of the person you are tonight. Why do you save those ticket stubs and theater programs? They'll only hurt you later. Throw them away, my dear."
But Mrs. Bentley had stubbornly kept them.
"It won't work," Mr. Bentley continued, sipping his tea. "No matter how hard you try to be what you once were, you can only be what you are here and now. Time hypnotizes. When you're nine, you think you've always been nine years old and will always be. When you're thirty, it seems you've always been balanced there on that bright rim of middle life. And then when you turn seventy, you are always and forever seventy. You're in the present, you're trapped in a young now or an old now, but there is no other now to be seen."
It had been one of the few, but gentle, disputes of their quiet marriage. He had never approved of her bric-a-brackery. "Be what you are, bury what you are not," he had said. "Ticket stubs are trickery. Saving thing #Quote by Ray Bradbury

#77. Ll I can think about, every day, every waking minute since they drew Prim's name at the reaping, is how afraid I am. #Quote by Suzanne Collins

#78. They'd been attacked by lions,
stampeded by elephants, flooded out by rains, made war on by "natives." The tales they told were simply incredible.
There they sat on a heavily antimacassared horsehair sofa, two prim and proper ladies in ruffles and lace, telling these
stupendous stories over tea. #Quote by Alice Walker

#79. It was my first visit to the scene of the crime
a high, dingy, narrow-chested house, prim, formal, and solid, like the century which gave it birth. #Quote by Arthur Conan Doyle

#80. Time and tragedy have forced her to grow too quickly, at least for my taste, into a young woman who stitches bleeding wounds and knows our mother can hear only so much. #Quote by Suzanne Collins

#81. Prim. I need only to think of Prim and all my resolve disintegrates. It's my job to protect her. I pull the blanket up over my head, and my breathing is so rapid I use up all the oxygen and begin to choke for air. I can't let the Capitol hurt Prim.
And then it hits me. They already have. They have killed her father in those wretched mines. They have sat by as she almost starved to death. They have chosen her as a tribute, then made her watch her sister fight to the death in the Games. She has been hurt far worse than I had at the age of twelve. #Quote by Suzanne Collins

#82. Then I know Prim is right, that Snow cannot afford to waste Peeta's life, especially now, while the Mockingjay causes so much havoc. He's killed Cinna already. Destroyed my home. My family, Gale, and even Haymitch are out of his reach. Peeta's all he has left.
"So, what do you think they'll do to him?" I ask.
Prim sound about a thousand years old when she speaks."Whatever it takes to break you. #Quote by Suzanne Collins

#83. Oh dear, thought Demelza, how strange it all is! Me, sitting here, a mother, like a middle-aged dowager, moving in the best circles, behaving with prim propriety, hands folded on reticule, feet politely together, smiling graciously when spoken to, inclining the head this way and that, the perfect lady; when I've still got two scars on my back from my father's leather strap, and I learned to swear and curse and spit before I was seven, and I crawled with lice and ate what food I could find lying in the gutter, and had six dirty undernourished brothers all younger than me to look after. #Quote by Winston Graham

#84. I'm relieved Peeta's alive. I tell myself again that if I get killed, his winnings will benefit my mother and Prim the most. This is what I tell myself to explain the conflicting emotions that arise when I think of Peeta. The gratitude that he game an edge by professing his love for me in the interview. The anger at his superiority on the roof. The dread that we may come face-to-face at any moment in this arena. #Quote by Suzanne Collins

#85. What, suddenly I am a figure from an ancient bit of nursery nonsense?" He lifted a forepaw and began chewing his toes, the picture of dismissive indifference. "And the next egg you come across you'll ask, 'Tell me, sir, what were you doing up on that wall anyway?'"
"Are you ashamed to answer?"
"I am ashamed of nothing. I am a cat." The cat gracefully placed his paw next to the other, sitting as prim as a perfect statue. #Quote by Anne Elisabeth Stengl

#86. Street law dictated that for a parley of this kind each lieutenant be seconded by two of his foot soldiers and that they all be unarmed. Parley. The word felt like a deception - strangely prim, an antique. No matter what street law decreed, this night smelled like violence. #Quote by Leigh Bardugo

#87. ...we spoke about dying. [Prim] told me how she'd nearly died of malaria. She said that she didn't mind the thought of death. That realizing you're going to die actually makes life better as it's only then that you decide to live the life you really want to live. #Quote by Jennifer Ryan

#88. I don't have a talent, unless you count hunting illegally, which they don't. Or maybe singing, which I wouldn't do for the Capitol in a million years. My mother tried to interest me in a variety of suitable alternatives from a list Effie Trinket sent her. Cooking, flower arranging, playing the flute. None of them took, although Prim had a knack for
all three. Finally Cinna stepped in and offered to help me develop my passion for designing clothes, which really required development since it was non-existent. #Quote by Suzanne Collins

#89. Oh, well, it might look like a patterned world, laid out in prim design, but to those living there it could never be so simple. They were as alive as she: that old peasant contriving to outwit the cold; that woman anxiously counting her comical flock lest one goose escape her vigilance; all those who slept, or toiled, or loved under the low-hung roofs or the sharp turrets. Those people out there, if they caught sight of her own face pressed close to the window pane, might be speculating about her. To them she was part of the pattern of the lumbering train with its trail of smoke and little boxlike carriages. Perhaps they envied her, riding at ease to distant Paris. How little they knew of that! How little she herself know what awaited her at the end of the journey! #Quote by Rachel Field

#90. He found something mean in the pretty furniture which he had bought for his house on the hire system. Annie had chosen it herself and it reminded him of her. It too was prim and pretty. A dull resentment against his life awoke within him. Could he not escape from his little house? Was it too late for him to try to live bravely like Gallaher? Could he go to London? There was furniture still to be paid for. If he could only write a book and get it published, that might open the way for him. #Quote by James Joyce

#91. Why are you so angry at me?" she asked. The question ratcheted him even closer to the boiling point. "Because for some insane reason, I adore you. For three solid years I have thought you were the closest thing to perfection on this earth, and I can't watch you risk your life crossing that bridge!" Had she understood correctly? After all these years of cold decorum, Zack's eyes glittered in a face streaked with soot and sweat as he stepped closer, shouting over the roar of wind and fire. "I've been insane about you since the moment you waltzed into my office three years ago in that ridiculous suit and your hair as prim as a schoolmarm," he shouted. "Don't you dare get yourself killed on me now! #Quote by Elizabeth Camden

#92. How could I leave Prim, who is the only person in the world I'm certain I love? #Quote by Suzanne Collins

#93. The parrot holds its food for prim consumption as daintily as any debutante, [with] a predilection for pot roast, hashed-brown potatoes, duck skin, butter, hoisin sauce, sesame seed oil, bananas and human thumb. #Quote by Alexander Theroux

#94. At the moment, however, she had an ever larger problem: what to do now, when two defenseless women were completely lost in the wilds of Scotland, at night, in the rain and cold.
Shuffling footsteps sounded on the gravel path, and both women straightened, both suppressing the hope soaring in their breasts and keeping their faces carefully expressionless.
"Well, well, well," Jake boomed. "Glad I caught up with you and-" He lost his thought as he beheld the utterly comic sight of two stiff-backed women seated on a trunk together, prim and proper as you please, beneath a black umbrella in the middle of nowhere. "Uh-where are your horses?"
"We have no horses," Lucinda informed him in a disdainful voice that implied such beasts would have been an intrusion on their tete-a-tete.
"No? How did you get here?"
"A wheeled conveyance carried us to this godforsaken place."
"I see." He lapsed into daunted silence, and Elizabeth started to say something at least slightly pleasant when Lucinda lost her patience.
"You have, I collect, come to urge us to return?"
"Ah-yes. Yes, I have."
"Then do so. We haven't all night." Lucinda's words struck Elizabeth as a bald lie.
When Jake seemed at a loss as to how to go about it, Lucinda stood up and assisted him. "I gather Mr. Thornton is extremely regretful for his unforgivable and inexcusable behavior?"
"Well, yes, I guess that's the way it is. In a way."
"No doubt he intends to tell us that #Quote by Judith McNaught

#95. Damn, she's good."
"Of course she bloody is," Pearl murmured, her ace still stuffed against Jack's neck, even though she sounded like the prim English woman she was, her tone turning curt. "She's my mother. #Quote by Scarlett Dawn

#96. Some days I want to look like a hipster kid, and then other days I want to be prim and proper. I really wish I had, like, seven lives so I could go from being a hipster one day to a punk the next. But that's the great thing about fashion. In a way, it's like acting, because you can try on all these different roles. #Quote by Sophie Turner

#97. Sexual orthodoxy and the exercise of power. If a President can't keep his pants on, does he lose the right to rule us? If a public servant cheats on his wife does this make him more likely to cheat on the electorate? For myself, I'd rather be ruled by an adulterer, by some sexual rogue, than by a prim celibate or zipped-up spouse. As criminals tend to specialize in certain crimes, so corrupt politicians normally specialize in their corruption: the sexual blackguards stick to fucking, the bribe-takers to graft. In which case it would make more sense to elect proven adulterers instead of discouraging them from public life. I #Quote by Julian Barnes

#98. I live on a ship full of outcasts, populated by society's unacceptable. And yet, here I stand, happy. And I love them all.
It is time, Primrose thought, to tender myself the same level of courtesy. Or perhaps it is time that I simply accepted that I too am one of the strange and abandoned. Appearances be damned. #Quote by Gail Carriger

#99. And," Mae added, voice prim, "if you try to brag about this, no one's going to believe you. No one will believe someone like me would sleep with someone like you." That was the gut punch. It was also the last word, because he couldn't muster another response. #Quote by Richelle Mead

#100. No one really needs me," he says, and there's no self pity in his voice. It's true his family doesn't need him. They will mourn him, as will a handful of friends. But they will get on. Even Haymitch, with the help of a lot of white liquor, will get on. I realize only one person will be damaged beyond repair if Peeta dies. Me.
"I do," I say. "I need you." he looks upset, takes a deep breath as if to begin a long argument, and that's no good, no good at all, because he'll start going on about Prim and my mother and everything and I'll just get confused. So before he can talk, i stop his lips with a kiss. #Quote by Suzanne Collins

#101. The dust of thirty years hung lifeless in shafts of morning light, the gilding of perfectly prim pages shone incanescent, the shriek of rolling ladders mourned in perennial soliloquy. #Quote by Michelle Franklin

#102. Why must you hurt me, when I love you so? When I can do nothing else nor want to, for love made me and fed me and kept me in better days? Why will you cut me, and disfigure my face, and fill me with woe? I have only loved you for your beauty as you once loved me for mine in the days before the world moved on. Now you scar me with nails and put burning drops of quicksilver in my nose; you have set the animals on me, so you have, and they have eaten of my softest parts. Around me the can-toi gather and there's no peace from their laughter. Yet still I love you and would serve you and even bring the magic again, if you would allow me, for that is how my heart was cast when I rose from the Prim. And once I was strong as well as beautiful, but now my strength is almost gone. #Quote by Stephen King

#103. His gaze slid toward the back of the sanctuary and collided with Joanna, standing silently in the doorway. You ... Crockett's voice tapered off.
For a moment, all he could do was stare. Her rapt attention, the tiny smile that brought into relief the freckles dusting her cheekbones, the way the light passed through the doorway behind her to see her hair ablaze beneath the prim straw bonnet she wore. Yet it was her inner light that captured him the most. The serenity of her features. The glow in her blue eyes. This was a woman of authentic spirituality. No wonder the Master Weaver had chosen her to be the central thread to anchor his new tapestry. #Quote by Karen Witemeyer

#104. My mouth fell open. "Did you really just compare me to Olivia Newton-John?"
"I just meant like going from, y'know, prim to all sexed up."
"I feel . . . weird."
"You look amazin. Amazin."
He pulled me against him, hands snaking under the glamour cardigan to make the acquaintance of my arse.
Chloe gave a warning screech. "Don't smudge 'im!"
He grinned, tilting his head because, in my heels, I was just a little bit taller than he was. "You're giving me chills, babes."
"Is that so? Are they multiplying?"
"Hunjed pahcent."
"You'd better shape up, then."
"You're like totally the one that I want #Quote by Alexis Hall

#105. I vote yes....for Prim. #Quote by Suzanne Collins

#106. Prim... Rue... aren't they the very reason I have to try to fight? Because what has been done to them is so wrong, so beyond justification, so evil that there is no choice? Because no one had the right to treat them as they have been treated? Yes. This is the thing to remember when fear threatens to swallow me up. #Quote by Suzanne Collins

#107. Many of the people who left the South never exactly sat their children down to tell them these things, tell them what happened and why they left and how they and all this blood kin came to be in this northern city or western suburb or why they speak like melted butter and their children speak like footsteps on pavement, prim and proper or clipped and fast, like the New World itself. #Quote by Isabel Wilkerson

#108. Gray waited a full verse before approaching her, prowling around her periphery and coming to rest behind her right shoulder. A few of the men gave him friendly nods, but most were too absorbed in their spirits and song to pay him any mind.
"What are you doing?" she asked, flicking him a glance through the swaying lamplight.
"Who, me?" he murmured. "I'm simply leaning against the foremast. You know, this tall bit of timber you weren't to go past."
She sipped her drink.
Gray pushed off the mast and crouched at her side. If she'd turn and look at him, they would be eye-to-eye. But she didn't. "The better question is, what the hell are you doing?"
"I'm enjoying myself," she said lightly, taking another drink. "I suggest you do the same." She passed the tankard to him and applauded with wild enthusiasm as the song came to its tuneless end.
Gray peered at the half-empty tankard, then lifted it to his nose and sniffed. Straight, unadulterated rum, the girl was drinking. That would explain the enthusiasm. Her applause concluded, she snatched the tankard back and downed a swallow to do a sailor proud.
Bloody hell. Gray suspected the only thing worse than watching over a prim governess would be watching over a soused one. #Quote by Tessa Dare

#109. To the everlasting credit of the people of District 12, not one person claps. Not even the ones holding betting slips, the ones who are usually beyond caring. Possibly because they know me from the Hob, or knew my father, or have encountered Prim, who no one could help loving. So instead of acknowledging applause, I stand there unmoving while they take part in the boldest form of dissent they can manage. Silence. Which says we do not agree. We do not condone. All of this is wrong. #Quote by Suzanne Collins

#110. Matthew shook his head. "Whoever said anything of women in the Victorian era being prim and proper apparently hadn't met Maxine Fleming."
Tahatan chuckled. "I'm sure a publisher somewhere would make a nice fortune with putting this into print. The fact is, people tend to look back on bygone times through rose-colored glasses. All eras have encouraged values that are pushed on the surface, but in the end, people are still people. #Quote by Tiffany Apan

#111. Was it just a high school thing? Or worse, I imagined, is it just that I'm not and never will be a country girl? Is it that country girls have some wild sense of abandon that I wasn't born with? A reckless side, a fun, adventurous side that makes them worthy of riding next to boys in pickups? Am I untouchable? Am I too prim? Too proper? I'm not! I'm really not! I'm fun and adventurous. Reckless, too! I have a pair of jeans: Anne Kleins! And I want to be Middle Seat Worthy. #Quote by Ree Drummond

#112. I am Cinna's bird, ignited, flying frantically to escape something inescapable. The feathers of flame that grow from my body. Beating my wings only fans the blaze. I consume myself, but to no end.
Finally, my wings begin to falter, I lose height, and gravity pulls me into a foamy sea the color of Finnick's eyes. I float on my back, which continues to burn beneath the water, but the agony quiets to pain. When I am adrift and unable to navigate, that's when they come. The dead.
The ones I loved fly as birds in the open sky above me. Soaring, weaving, calling to me to join them. I want so badly to follow them, but the seawater saturates my wings, making it impossible to lift them. The ones I hated have taken to the water, horrible scaled things that tear my salty flesh with needle teeth. Biting again and again. Dragging me beneath the surface.
The small white bird tinged in pink dives down, buries her claws in my chest, and tries to keep me afloat.
"No, Katniss! No! You can't go!"
But the ones I hated are winning, and if she clings to me, she'll be lost as well. "Prim, let go!" And finally she does. #Quote by Suzanne Collins

#113. Before anyone can ask anything, I empty my game bag and it becomes 18:00 - Cat Adoration. Prim just sits on the floor weeping and rocking that awful Buttercup, who interrupts his purring only for an occasional hiss at me. He gives me a particularly smug look when she ties the blue ribbon around his neck. #Quote by Suzanne Collins

#114. When Jo's conservative sister Meg says she must turn up her hair now that she is a "young lady," Jo shouts, "I'm not! and if turning up my hair makes me one, I'll wear it in two tails till I'm twenty ... I hate to think I've got to grow up, and be Miss March, and wear long gowns, and look as prim as a China aster! It's bad enough to be a girl anyway, when I like boys' games and work and manners! I can't get over my disappointment in not being a boy; and it's worse than ever now, for I'm dying to go and fight with Papa, and I can only stay at home and knit, like a poky old woman. #Quote by Louisa May Alcott

#115. People deal with me, but they are genuinely fond of Prim. Maybe there will be enough fondness to keep her alive. #Quote by Suzanne Collins

#116. Ah, to be young and agile again,' said Primrose.
'We were never that young,' replied Rue.
'More to the point, we were never that agile,' said Prim with a soft smile. #Quote by Gail Carriger

#117. Dango, dango, dango, dango, a big dango family
Dango, dango, dango, dango, a big dango family

The naughty fried dango, the kind red bean dango
The Mid-Autumn Festival dango tends to dream a little
The prim sesame dango, the four dango on a skewer
Everyone, everyone comes together and it's a family of 100s

The baby dango is always within happiness
The aged dango has its eyes narrowed

The chummy dango hold their hands together and make a big, round ring
They build a town on the dango planet and everyone laughs together
The rabbit is trying to wave in the sky; the huge moon
Is rounding up everything, happy things and sad things, too

The chummy dango hold their hands together and make a big, round ring
They build a town on the dango planet and everyone laughs together
The rabbit is trying to wave in the sky; the huge moon
Is rounding up everything, happy things and sad things, too

Dango, dango, dango, dango, a big dango family
Dango, dango, dango, dango, a big dango family

Dango, dango, dango, dango, a big dango family
Dango, dango, dango, dango, a big dango family #Quote by Chata

#118. The flowers were opulent, full-blown, topple shower petals at a touch. He thought that she might topple that way, falling all at once into his hand, a soft drift of blossom between his fingers. The roses bowed their extravagant heads, nodding, but she was all stiff prim and black, back in her bonnet, so that he could not see her face unless she looked directly at him. #Quote by Laura Kinsale