Top 100 She Rose Quotes
#1. Patricia Nixon gave up a career to become a political wife. She rose to the pinnacle of glory and then fell to disgrace because of deeds over which she had neither control nor knowledge.
Karen DeCrow
#2. Apparently unaffected, she rose. "Yeah, you're probably right. I should be going." She feigned a yawn. "You've gotta head back to work and I've gotta head to jail. Big night for me. I'm planning to shiv someone for a bar of soap.
Kresley Cole
#3. I'm not strong." "You're wrong," Eve said as she rose. "You came here, you asked to help someone who needs help. You're no weak sister, Mrs. Patrick, and he can't make you one.
J.D. Robb
#5. She cries,
I laugh,
She becomes numb,
I become filled with joy,
She slowly crumbles,
I feel on top of the world,
Yet somehow in the end,
Out of the ashes,
She rose like a Phoenix,
As if nothing had ever touched her
Tanzy Sayadi
#6. For me to help him," said Dorothea, ardently. "You have quite made up your mind, I see. Well, my dear, the fact is, I have a letter for you in my pocket." Mr. Brooke handed the letter to Dorothea, but as she rose to go away, he added, "There is not too much
George Eliot
#7. She rose. 'You mean,' Catherine d'Albon said, 'I have agreed to marry a libertine?'
'Everyone marries libertines,' Lymond said comfortably, rising and taking her elbow. 'But not everyone knows it beforehand.
Dorothy Dunnett
#9. She rose. Lindsey was pretty in a way that only the young are, with that enthusiasm and smile that belong exclusively to the innocent or the cult recruiter.
Harlan Coben
#10. That naked childlike surrender, before she rose to assume an adult's armour, seemed first thing this morning like a essential from which she was banished.
Ian McEwan
#11. She rose to his requirement, dropped The playthings of her life To take the honorable work Of woman and of wife.
Emily Dickinson
#12. She rose and she remembered, remembered and rose, until she had gone too far for fear to snatch her back.
Peni R. Griffin
#13. She rose on her tiptoes and brushed a slow kiss to his lips. "This doesn't have to be a relationship, okay? Just let me be your muse."
He bent to taste her again and smiled. "And I'll be your Guardian.
Lisa Kessler
#14. She rose with the grace that was inherent to her every move ... Perhaps she did everything to a rhythm only she could hear.
Eloisa James
#15. He gripped her hips tightly. "I need you," he whispered, and her heart pounded in answer.
She rose up over him and slowly settled onto his erection, moaning as each inch of him filled her, enjoying every second.
"Made for me," he growled beneath her.
Lisa Kessler
#16. She rose too, not as if to meet him or to flee from him, but quietly, as though the worst of the task were done and she had only to wait; so quietly that, as he came close, her outstretched hands acted not as a check but as a guide to him.
Edith Wharton
#17. Instead, she rose a little onto her toes and they kissed again.
Scott Westerfeld
#18. She rose. "I'll just go get the wine."
"I'm not interested in wine."
She walked away, tossed a glance over her shoulder. "You will be. When I start licking it off you.
J.D. Robb
#19. The worker must have bread, but she must have roses, too. Help, you women of privilege, give her the ballot to fight with.
Rose Schneiderman
#20. Fall in love with me, Gary! She thought. Please. Please sit here holding me and think there's nowhere on earth I'd rather be than here, and no girl I'd rather have in my lap than Beth Rose Chapman!
Caroline B. Cooney
#21. It didn't matter that Daniel had already seen her at her absolute, tear-streaked, bedraggled worst. She still had an overwhelming desire to be pretty for him. Which made her resent herself.
Frankie Rose
#22. There's a vulnerability about Rose, even a sweetness in her eyes, but there's no mistaking her priorities. Smart, tough, determined, she is essential, but rarely the dog that people melt over or want to take home. Yet she's a great dog.
Jon Katz
#23. Well, we're originally from Glace Bay."
Grandma Elsie's eyes glittered. She was looking at one of her own, a lost Cape Bretoner in need of help and offering a new story. "Tell me all about it, dear.
Beatrice Rose Roberts
#24. They laughed too, even Rose Dear shook her head and smiled, and suddenly the world was right side up. Violet learned then what she had forgotten until this moment: that laughter is serious. More complicated, more serious than tears.
Toni Morrison
#25. And then something blossomed deep within and opened almost like the multitude petals of a rose, pushing back the tension in rippling waves as they bloomed until she surrendered to relaxation with a soft exclamation of surprise
Mary Balogh
#26. I will kill him."
"Erra's eyebrows rose. "You'd have to go through me first."
I shrugged. "I have to do something for a warm-up."
She laughed softly. "That's the spirit. I do think you might be my favorite niece.
Ilona Andrews
#27. She would see that in England, for reasons unknown, a woman can simultaneously be cute as a bug's ear, a serious rose gardener, and a nymphomaniac.
Nell Zink
#28. Mrs. Stubbs, and she pointed dramatically to the life-size head and shoulders of a burly man with a dead white rose in the buttonhole of his coat that made you think of a curl of cold mutting fat. Just below, in silver
Katherine Mansfield
#29. The dowager rose and slipped from her pew. There was the sound of tearing silk as she threw up her arms to embrace her son. Then:
"Oh, Rupert, darling," she exclaimed in tones of theatrical despair, "don't you see? The game's up!
Eva Ibbotson
#30. William glanced at her sword. His upper lip rose, showing her his teeth. My, my, Lord Bill, what big fangs you have. That was all right. She wasn't Red Riding Hood, she wasn't scared, and her grandmother could curse his ass so hard, he wouldn't know which way was up for a week.
Ilona Andrews
#31. Once we finished, she climbed off me, went to the bathroom to clean up, then came back to bed with a rag, wiping me off before crawling on top of me.
Aurora Rose Reynolds
#32. I'm talking about the language of flowers. It's from the Victorian era, like your name. If a man gave a young lady a bouquet of flowers, she would race home and try to decode it like a secret message. Red roses mean love; yellow roses infidelity. So a man would have to choose his flowers carefully.
Vanessa Diffenbaugh
#33. She turned back to the reporter, holding out the microphone. I'm not an expert, I'm a survivor. I hope you can learn how to be one yourself.
Rose Wynters
#34. Few would dispute with the rose her claim to be the queen of flowers, for where is her equal to be found? Is she not God's masterpiece?
Patience Strong
#35. Strew on her roses, roses, And never a spray of yew! In quiet she reposes; Ah, would that I did too!
Matthew Arnold
#37. I think Gypsy [Rose Lee] would be appalled at today's rawer, more blatant displays of the female form. She was, in her own way, a prude.
Karen Abbott
#38. Then a woman of good character will be very attracted to you, will consider you a wonderful potential husband, even if she does not show it." Avelina had to swallow the lump that rose into her throat. "She will count herself fortunate to have secured your good opinion." He
Melanie Dickerson
#39. At first, she loved nought else but flowers,
And then-she only loved the rose;
And then-herself alone; and then-
She knew not what, but now-she knows.
Ridgely Torrence
#41. Make no mistake, every child has his own light, no matter how difficult or defiant or unlikeable he or she might seem.
Nancy Rose
#42. My brows rose. "You want your jeans off?" She pressed her cheek against my chest and tapped my leg once. I guessed that was drunk Morse code for yes.
Jennifer L. Armentrout
#43. No, they're not starbusts." He continued to touch each mark. "They're angel kisses. It's like angels kissed your hands all over." His eyes rose to meet hers. They were filled with kindness and compassion. Something she had felt little of the past year. (Peter)
Angie Stanton
#44. Because she deserved more than me. She deserved someone who could give her the whole universe.
Jacqueline Rayner
#45. And it is silence that she hears, the silence of lost years that have no voice left in them.
Rose Tremain
#46. I hate when people say, "Oh, you're just a teenager," or "It's hormonal." It's like, if a woman is agitated one day, people go, "Oh, she's on her period." That's such garbage. I think I was dealing with a combination of my own inner demons and resentment toward my parents from my earlier days.
Katy Rose
#47. She smelled like a rose, and she tasted like a rose petal.
Rohit Sharma
#48. Jo's whimper rose slightly but the scream she yearned for wouldn't materialise. Instead, as she looked at her hand, she began to make a gurgling, gagging noise, more animal than human.
Martin Pond
#49. That last gallop had flayed her raw skin to shreds. "Saddle sores. Trivial hurts, for all that they are mine." His brows rose. "What do you call severe, then?" She staggered away past the beheaded commander. "That.
Lois McMaster Bujold
#50. The man chuckled. "You would do well to speak kindly of her. She will be your Queen before long.
"Over my dead body," Rose snapped.
Brandi Gillilan
#51. My mom used cold cream her whole life, and she's got great skin!
Rose McIver
#53. She's not what I expected. She's not what I wanted, but fuck me if she's not what I need.
Aurora Rose Reynolds
#54. I felt differently about her [Gypsy Rose Lee] during every phase of the research and writing process. Often, I felt incredibly sorry for her; she had an extremely difficult childhood and a complicated 'to say the least' relationship with her family, her mother especially.
Karen Abbott
#55. Gypsy [Rose Lee] is as unique as she is timeless. Her story is classic Americana, and the strangest rags-to-riches saga you'll ever read; I like to call it Horatio Alger meets Tim Burton.
Karen Abbott
#56. Oh the irony life sometimes throws our way. It's almost like fate plays a sadistic joke on us just because she's in a mood that day - fickle bitch that she is.
Suzanne Steele
#57. He was cold and wet, but somehow he barely felt it. He kept remembering Rose snuggled against his chest, the feel of her body in his arms. He closed his eyes as he recalled the way she had looked at him, the way she said I love you.
Melanie Dickerson
#58. I think you can only make statements like 'She was pathological' if you are absolutely sure of your own sanity, which I consider a morally unacceptable position.
Jacqueline Rose
#59. what to do with her. She'd rebelled because she'd wanted their attention. Any of their attention. All of their
Karen Rose Smith
#60. The world is growing gentle, But few know what she owes To the understanding lily And the judgment of the rose.
Nathalia Crane
#61. When Gypsy was older, after she became Gypsy Rose Lee, I think she was both proud and slightly ashamed of her Seattle roots. She worked very hard to rid her voice of any trace of a local accent, cultivating an affected way of speaking that sounded as if she pinned the ends of her words.
Karen Abbott
#62. around here." She changed the subject and rose to her feet. "And
Debra Burroughs
#63. I think Paris smells not just sweet but melancholy and curious, sometimes sad but always enticing and seductive. She's a city for the all senses, for artists and writers and musicians and dreamers, for fantasies, for long walks and wine and lovers and, yes, for mysteries.
M.J. Rose
#64. The Rose does not preen herself to catch my eye. She blooms because she blooms. A saint is a saint until he knows he is one.
Anthony De Mello
#66. She's mine. You get that. You don't get to touch her - ever.
Nashoda Rose
#67. A song she heard
Of cold that gathers
Like winter's tongue
Among the shadows
It rose like blackness
In the sky
That on volcano's
Vomit rise
A Stone of ruin
From burn to chill
Like black moonrise
Her voice fell still ...
Robert Fanney
#68. When Nature gives a gorgeous rose, Or yields the simplest fern, She writes this motto on the leaves, "To whom it may concern!" And so it is the poet comes And revels in her bowers, And, though another hold the land, Is owner of the flowers.
John Godfrey Saxe
#69. We can retreat and retreat and let ourselves get backed into corners forever," she'd said once. "Or we can go out and meet the enemy at the time
and place we choose. Not them."
Okay, Tasha, I thought. Let's see if your advice gets me killed.
Richelle Mead
#71. She appreciated his protection, of course, but she was not sure if she wanted to be looked at ... as if she were fragile. A thing to hold gingerly, as one holds a delicate rose, careful not to bump its silken petals lest they should spill to the floor.
Michelle Zink
#72. She said that she would dance with me if I brought her red roses," cried the young Student; "but in all my garden there is no red rose.
Oscar Wilde
#73. Then, abrupt and decisive, the Emerald City rose before them. A city of insistence, of blanket declaration. It made no sense, clotting up the horizon, sprouting like a mirage on the characterless plains of central Oz. Glinda hated it from the moment she saw it. Brash upstart of a city.
Gregory Maguire
#74. But the only thing worse than remembering the feel of Rose in his arms, the softness of her black and white feathers, the sound of her voice when she sang quietly to herself, would be forgetting it.
Melissa Grey
#75. What she really loved was to hang over the edge and watch the bow of the ship slice through the waves. She loved it especially when the waves were high and the ship rose and fell, or when it was snowing and the flakes stung her face.
Kristin Cashore
#76. Her hand rose to her lips and she stared up at the stars, feeling her heart grow, and grow, and grow.
Sarah J. Maas
#77. Bluebell," she said, remembering from Erotique. "Pretty name."
"I call Dmitri Dark Overlord."
"Shae," Dmitri said and the female vampire rose at once to walk quickly into the house. "Now, pretty Bluebell" - another languid stroke across her skin - "tell the Overlord what you discovered.
Nalini Singh
#78. Her spirit rose with the horns and she was seized suddenly with a fierce love of all this country. She felt her mind a great wing stretched out protectively over the land.
Donna Gillespie
#79. You threaten my balls every day."
"That's because they're hanging around my sister," Rose snaps. I hate that she makes a good point. "And you have full right to threaten my eggs or fallopian tubes. Have at them."
I grimace. "I'm not going anywhere near your vagina.
Krista Ritchie
#80. In a very bad breach of guardian protocol, he caught a hhold of my hand and pulled me towards him."and?" he asked, wrapping me iin his embrace.
"I think she'd ask,'What have we gotten ourselves into?
Michelle Read
#81. She knows not loves that kissed her She knows not where. Art thou the ghost, my sister, White sister there, Am I the ghost, who knows? My hand, a fallen rose, Lies snow-white on white snows, and takes no care.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
#82. Jean sat at the end of the bar, watching Jerry Springer as she drew deeply on a long cigarette. The woman smoked like a freight train, especially while watching talk shows.
Rose Wynters
#83. I always say a little prayer when I put cakes in the oven," remarked Eve, as she stopped to kiss Rose good-bye.
"What do you say?"
"I say, 'Please, God, don't let me forget I've put that cake in the oven.
Hilary McKay
#84. In the distance, Amanda heard the sirens. Just a little bit longer. She didn't know what was wrong with her, but she was scared of dying before she had the chance to tell Ryker goodbye. In their capable hands, though, surely they could keep her alive long enough for him to return. They had to.
Rose Wynters
#85. She looks like a fucking wet dream sitting on that bike. Her legs are covered in tight denim with black boots laced up to mid-calf. She has a leather jacket on and it's zipped up half way, showing off a good amount of cleavage.
Aurora Rose Reynolds
#86. Nah, if she's the rose, he can be her thorn." Calo snapped his fingers. "The Thorn of Camorr! Now, that's got some shine to it!"
"That's the dumbest fucking thing I've ever heard," said Locke.
Scott Lynch
#87. When he pressed his lips to hers, she was not surprised. It happened the way the sun rose, the way a flower blossomed, the way fain fell from the sky, the way the dead stopped breathing. Naturally. Inevitably.
Lauren Kate
#88. She has a small, sweet face that is blushing now, an innocent pale rose. I wonder briefly if all her skin is like that - flawless - and what it would look like pink and warmed from the bite of a cane.
E.L. James
#89. Eve rose stiffly when he strode out of the house. In silence, she watched Julia look after him. "The male ego," Eve murmured as she crossed the room to put an arm around Julia's shoulders. "It's a huge and fragile thing. I always envision it as an enormous penis made of thin glass.
Nora Roberts
#90. Emma fussed with the cinnamon-rose starts she had planted all over the backyard. She was as tender with the roses as if they were her children, and every hour or two she watered them.
Sandra Dallas
#91. How pale the Princess is! Never have I seen her so pale. She is like the shadow of a white rose in a mirror of silver.
Oscar Wilde
#92. She is so beautiful. My Rose. Finer than sculpture, softer than sand. Rose, I'm kissing you now. Oh God, I have to kiss her. I will die if I don't kiss her, I know that now. It is a fact. I will die. It will kill me.
Ann-Marie MacDonald
#93. The library at home when she was child had been her refuge. She gravitated to it. When she was anxious, just taking a book of a shelf calmed her. Opening the cover, feeling the paper's smoothness, smelling the sheets, the leather, even sometimes the ink, centered her.
M.J. Rose
#94. When Rose McDermott, a professor of political science at Brown University, got divorced two years ago, she noticed that a cluster of her friends were splitting up at around the same time.
Katie Hafner
#95. One of the guardians distracted Ryan while the other - Dimitri, I now saw grabbed Camille. She screamed, not faking her fear. She apparently didn't find being in Dimitri's arms as thrilling as I did.
Richelle Mead
#96. When I do a workshop, there is always at least one author who comes up afterward and asks if I'll take a look at his or her book and consider blurbing it. For some reason, I can turn someone down in e-mail, but when he or she is looking me in the eye, I cave.
M.J. Rose
#97. She married the prince
and all went well
except for the fear
the fear of sleep.
Briar Rose
was an insomniac ...
She could not nap
or lie in sleep
without the court chemist
mixing her some knock-out drops
and never in the prince's presence.
Anne Sexton
#98. propped up a little as her eyes adjusted. She hardly ever got to watch Roarke sleep. Most of the time he rose before she did. And sleep for her tended to be wandering in lucid, often disturbing dreams,
J.D. Robb
#99. The woman on the bed was old, her life was fading as the mist rose. She thought of her mother as already in the grave; and she would not let herself be strangled by the hands of the dead. "I'm going, Ma," she said. "I got to go.
James Baldwin
#100. Their eyes locked. Again, heat rose to Livy's cheeks. He needed to stop looking at her that way. She never should have noticed the captivating hue of his sky-blue eyes. When was the last time a man flustered her like this. Maybe never.
Teresa Tysinger
