Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Clarissa. Share them with your friends on social media platforms like Facebook, Twitter, or your personal blogs, and let the world be inspired by their powerful messages. Here are the Top 100 Clarissa Quotes And Sayings by 96 Authors including Donna Leon,Roxanne St. Claire,Alexander Lowen,Cassandra Clare,John Green for you to enjoy and share.
Roberta Marieschi
Mandy Mitchell's up to her elbows in someone else's shit." Of all the other housekeepers to be assigned to the same floor, she had to get Tori. "As you know, I go by Amanda Lockhart now." "Ah, you'll
Mabel Elsworth Todd,The Thinking Body,
Isabelle.
It was always Isabelle.
AHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!' he screamed.
'So that's Sara,' I said.
'Yes.'
'She seems nice.
Bless thy simplicity, Tess
I'd like to think I'm Elizabeth, but deep down I think I'm the one whose name no one can remember. Not Lydia the slut or Mary the nerd or Jane the beauty or Elizabeth the opinionated. I'm the second-youngest. The forgotten one. - Francesca Spinelli
From now on, she was Juliette Gervaise, code name the Nightingale.
We'll tell the nurses she's a new student with an interest in nursing. They'll be charmed.'
Tess flips her braids over her should. 'I am particularly adorable today.
My name's Margareta, by the way." "Oh," I said, then thought that I ought to say something more. She looked as if she were expecting a reply, but what could I say? What could I possibly have to say about her name? Her name was Margareta. Okay. Good. Nice name.
My Becca's home.
Miss Andrews is really nice
Agatha - You're somewhat odd. You know that, don't you?
Felicia - I'll take that as a compliment.
Agatha - It wasn't meant as such ...
Grace-" He scowled, then laughed. "What the devil is your middle name?"
"Catriona." she whispered.
"Grace Catriona Eversleigh," he said, loud and sure, "I love you.
Nancy writes romantic cookbooks!
Now Suzanne takes your hand
and she leads you to the river
She is wearing rags and feathers
from Salvation Army counters
And the sun pours down like honey
on our lady of the harbour
And she shows you where to look
among the garbage and the flowers
As I consider myself nothing nor nobody more than Peter Sellers in Being There or at my liveliest as Inspector Clousseau, it is difficult to make "Susie" sound interesting?
Abby. She's a pigeon. A demonic pigeon that fucks with my head so bad I can't think straight. Nothing makes sense anymore, Cam. Every rule I've ever made's getting broken one by one. I'm a pussy. No ... worse. I'm Shep.
Brooke Dumas. I'm Remington.
Florence Nightendick
Recently returned from Boston, where she was staying with her Aunt, to broaden her education. She has turned out a charming young woman, everything one might wish for, and displayed a courtesy and gentle kindness many would admire, and which is worth so much
First off, what the hell kind of name is that?
Wow, her parents were pretentious naming their daughter Temperance!
What the actual fuck?
comfort. I'd decided Lucy
Dear, gentle, patient, noble Nell . . . .
Drinks on the closed-in porch. The exactness of her
She named me Daisy St. Patience and never wanted to know what name I walked in the door with.
Rosabelle - answer - tell - pray, answer - look - tell - answer, answer - tell.
You're a real Polly-fucking-Anna, aren't you?"
"I am. Also, Polly Fucking Anna would make a great name for a lesbian porno.
Oh, Len, isn't she a darling? Just because she saw how our Bandboxful of furniture would rattle about in that big house like a peanut in a cocoanut shell, to lend us all hers! She is a darling.
Hadley Grayson is my lightning, my speed, my hearts, my candy.
I've never tried any of my own products and I'm glad I haven't.
It might have reduced my tolerance for happy.
Who's that little brunette?" Suzanne asked. "I hate little petite types. Gregory doesn't look right with someone petite. Little face, little hands, little dainty feet."
"Big boobs," Beth said, glancing up.
Then, who is Matilda?' I asked.
Toby tilted his cup and poked at the slush with his straw. 'I suppose Matilda's the girl who felt like home.
Her dress is the colour of marmalade, she chirps songs that have no words
Eliza, my pancreas.
I know I'm immature in some ways, but inside me there's a cranky old lady yelling at the damn kids to get off her lawn. She's been there awhile. I've decided to call her Mabel.
Anne Shirley. Anne with an e.
Her given name was Lucinda but she'd called herself Juveline since age fifteen, when she'd been caught selling knockoff Burberry totes and a cop at the booking desk misspelled the word "juvenile." Big
Katy. Her name was Katy. Reminded me of Kitty. Kitty cat. Kitten. Look at me, putting all these words together.
Melissa Pritchard's prose, that darkly lyrical firmament, is brightened by the dizzy luminous arrangement of her stars and satellites, her great gifts to us: humor, irony, kindness, brilliance.
She has the care of a mother, the love of a sister, a prostitute in bed. Who is she?
What's her name? Claire, what's her name?
I wondered if anybody had ever called her "ma'am," or "Miss Mayella" in her life; probably not, as she took offense to routine courtesy. What on earth was her life like? I soon found out.
No one had ever looked at me before Suzanne, not really, so she became my definition. Her gaze softening my centre so easily that even photographs of her seemed aimed at me, ignited with private meaning.
Her name is Maya Rudolph! She is a goddamn baby champion and she pushed her cuties out Little House on the Prairie style!
'Seanan McGuire' is my real name; if I'm being silly and third-person about it, she's a frequently cranky, foul-mouthed Disney Princess on vacation in the real world, where she studies diseases, cuddles reptiles, watches lots of horror movies, and goes to as many corn fields as possible.
There's a murderer on the loose in Sugarcomb Lake," Clarissa reminded her. "I'm positive the wrong person has been arrested. So be on high alert until the real killer is caught, okay? Lock your door tonight and don't open it for anyone." Liana
Jane Austen Emma
Janelle, you're my home.
Oooh, intrigue?' Sylvie said playfully. 'Want to know a secret? I am someone else. Nobody knows the real me.'
Jess opened the door, sick of being toyed with, wanting to get away. Her voice was flat. 'You're a girl. It's the same for all of us.
I have a sister and her name is Mimsy, like from 'Alice in Wonderland,' so we've got some strange names in our family.
She is dark browed, sarcastic and occasionally mean spirited. A knife amongst all this flesh, The kind of woman who starts chaos in strangers all day.
Could there be a slenderer, more insignificant thread in human history than this consciousness of a girl, busy with her small inferences of the way in which she could make her life pleasant?
Violet Lynn Parker, you'd better spill or I'll start bellowing 'Happy Birthday' to you in my Bobcat Goldthwait voice.
The real Sallie has returned and her portrayal of Mother has disappeared
She had such unusual eyes. They made me think of the seaside, and so I called her Ocean, and could not have told you why.
Amelia, meet my Honeydew.
Juliette," I whisper. "My name is Juliette.
Your sister Betsey Trotwood...
The old-boobs Pamela or the new-boobs Pamela?
Her letters were bubbly and girlish. Her handwriting made her seem happier than she actually was.
There are the dirtstreaked glass panes of the bay windows, there are the heavy, moth-eaten drapes, and there, half hidden by the curtains, pointed face peeking out with that familiar worried look, is Elsie.
jessamine. Flowering
She spilled your secrets," said Quinn
"Yeah?" He sliced off a piece of chicken and glanced across the table. "What's my name Becca?"
Busted. Becca wanted to melt into a puddle.
Quinn grinned. "You mean it's not really New Kid?
Out of the blue Sylvia said, 'People are like boxes. You would like to open them up and see what's inside, but you can't.' Sylvia was interested in people and recognizing how individuals create their own kind of camouflage- the 'lids on the boxes', so to speak.
She had a pretty name but she knew she wasn't pretty.
She's my Tallahassee lassie down in FLA.
Oh my God, of course she was Lily - and she was sickeningly beautiful. Suddenly, I was even more nauseous than usual. I was going to vomit all over myself and be dubbed hurl-girl for the rest of eternity. I was going to throw up all over Lillian Hunt. - Nicole Abbot
The picturesque doctor's daughter, Miss Manette.
What's she like, the Peeping Tammy?" "She doesn't think about it that way, and you get it when she talks. She likes people.
You don't give an inch. That's why I like you, Olivia - no middle name - Kaspen. You make me work for every smile, every giggle ...
She's a mystery, a cipher, something nearly extinct these days: a person not controlled by ambition or greed or a crass need for attention, but by a desire to experience life completely and to make life a little easier for the people around her
Try as i do, i can't recall her surname. Indeed, her very abstractedness and insubstantial personality seemed to say 'forget me'; she seemed to live in parenthesis; ...
I didn't mean to interupt you if you were looking for your friends Miss
'
'Callihan,' but you can call my Jasmine. Or Jas.' Or Snookums. Honeybunch. Hotsie Totsie Cowgirl. My Little
'It's nice to meet you Jasmine, I'm Jack.
Mallory Quinn was sweet, warm, and caring. She was a white picket fence and two-point-four kids. She was a diamond ring. She was someone's keeper.
leaving Sobriety City on the Alcohol Express). She
Bethyl Ann has vomited words like she ate the dictionary.
comely Savannah Frost approaching my front door. She
The whore, who said her name was Sandra, offered me delights unobtainable outside of Place Pigalle and Port Said. I said I wasn't interested, and she was bright enough to say that she wasn't really interested either. As things turned out, we had both overestimated our apathies, but not by much.
Emily Williamson never thought she would find commitment so liberating, that her conviction to her cause could promote such happiness within her. She stands in the London sunshine, watching Mrs. Phillips model as a heron, and she feels nothing but gratitude and wonder at the beauty of life.
My name is Tess Little. But everyone calls me Red.
I'd like to add her initial to my monogram...
[On her UNICEF work:] I'm glad I've got a name, because I'm using it for what it's worth ... I do not want to see mothers and fathers digging graves for their children.
Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?
pocket. "Tanner," Nathaniel
Coop introduced her as Ingrid, his massage therapist. "Piper Dove," she said. "I'm actually Mr. Smith's sobriety coach." "Well, God bless you," Marilyn said with a cheery smile. "There's no shame in admitting you need help, Mr. Smith.
A 'T' for Tess, a 'T' for Toby.
People named Tinkerbell name their daughters Susan.
You know Boosha, of course." "Yeah," Lena says. "What is she, exactly?" "Eccentric," Jett answers immediately and without further explanation.
ultimate demonstration of Constance's taste for the
You are my mere jaan, my life, Kelsey Hayes.
Maxi-Cosi. This life? She should already know that this
Agatha has a dangerous ease about her. She's the kind of person you want to like you.
DeLois lived up the block on 142nd Street and never had her hair done, and all the neighbourhood women sucked their teeth as she walked by. Her crispy hair twinkled in the summer sun as her big proud stomach moved her on down the block while I watched, not caring whether or not she was a poem.
He picked up the biscuit box and said, "Come on, Marlene. Back into hiding in case somebody comes looking for you, although only God knows why anybody would."
"Marlene?" Nell said.
"I'm not calling anything SugarPie," Riley said. "That's obscene.
Tonight, when Frankie sits at the table and innocently knocks over her glass of Diet Coke, Aunt Jayne starts to cry, and the translucent veil of general okayness evaporates to reveal the honest, ugly parts underneath.
Aunt Agatha is my tough aunt, the one who eats broken bottles and conducts human sacrifices by the light of the full moon.
She was good-natured with a ribald sense of humour, breaking wind fairly frequently and uninhibitedly, then asking in a loud voice: "Who's let Johnny out of prison?" I
Sandy is kind. But she has a smart mind
Another girl? That's awesome Shea. What are you guys going to name her, Sheanana?
her husband, when Sally was just a baby. How they hadn't believed Noelle.