Pick up your clothes. I am not your maid. How do I know this? A maid cannot kill you with a tube sock. I can.
Charters: You can't expect to put the two of us up in the maid's room. Hotel Manager: Well don't get excited. I'll remove the maid out.
How rough your hands still are.” Embarrassed, she made to pull them away, but he held them fast. “Yet never have I longed to kiss any woman’s hands as I long to kiss these.
I remember everything about you, Miss Macy. Every moment between us—the good and the bad.” He chuckled dryly. “Though I prefer to linger on more recent pleasant moments.
Most of [her ashes] fell into the river in a long gray curtain. But some was caught by the wind and blown upward toward the blue spring sky where it swirled a moment in the air, before dissolving into sunlight.
I need to hear the words of this book—its truth, forgiveness, hope—as much as anybody.” Nathaniel looked up with an apologetic smile. “I know I’m no great orator. But I ask you to bear with me as I fumble through this new duty.
Edward was dead. The magnitude of the news reverberated through me, thickening the air. His suffering was over. Yet what had he left behind? An England torn between Catholic and Protestant.
She also watched Miss Upchurch as she danced with Mr. Hudson. They bounded through the steps in lively abandon. Mr. Hudson’s form was a bit ungainly, but he had never seemed so young and handsome as he did while dancing with Miss Upchurch.
Ray Fremick: Do you go by another name? Plato: They call me Plato. Crawford Family Maid: He was a Greek philosopher. They [Plato turns away] Crawford Family Maid: You talk nice to the man, John, he's going to help you. Plato: Nobody can help me.
We all wear masks to veil the truth. Truth is nakedness. Truth is fear. Truth is the gardener making you sit on his lap asking you to light his cigarette. Truth is father— with a limp cigarette on his lips —telling you to never use his matches to...
I'm a real Kentish maid, you know.
To this day I clean better than most maids.
Well, every art requires appreciation, doesn't it? I mean people who paint, sculpt, or write books want an audience. that's the reason they're doing it for, and it's the same when you're a cook. You need somebody who savours it, not one who just says...
When you see me in a scarf you may think “Oh, she went to some trouble there.” But no, when I wear a scarf it means "this grey blouse was unwrinkled and those mocha pants make my behind look fine and voila I have a vivid grey and brown silk scarf...
[about the newspaper clipping Ron was showing Harry and Hermione] George Weasley: Not flashing that clipping again, are you, Ron? Ron: I haven't shown anyone! Fred Weasley: No, not a soul! Unless you count Tom. George Weasley: The day maid. Fred Weas...
In my opinion, giving a kiss is a much better prize than receiving one.
I've given every maid I've portrayed soul and heart.
Aren't maids the ultimate art critics?
Old maids do not mind giving people trouble.
Be good, sweet maid, and let who will be clever.
Mr. Upchurch,” she fumbled. “I . . . I must take my leave directly. But before I go, allow me to say how sorry I am for the callous way I treated you in the past. I regret it most keenly.” His heart squeezed even as he felt his brows rise. �...
