Beatrice Quotes

“I have something I need to tell you," he says. I run my fingers along the tendons in his hands and look back at him. "I might be in love with you." He smiles a little. "I'm waiting until I'm sure to tell you, though."
"That's sensible of you," I say, smiling too. "We should find some paper so you can make a list or a chart or something."
I feel his laughter against my side, his nose sliding along my jaw, his lips pressing my ear.
"Maybe I'm already sure," he says, "and I just don't want to frighten you."
I laugh a little. "Then you should know better."
"Fine," he says. "Then I love you.”
― Veronica Roth, Divergent

“He slides his hand over my cheek, one finger anchored behind my ear. Then he tilts his head down and kisses me, sending a warm ache through my body. I wrap my hands around his arm, holding him there as long as I can. When he touches me, the hollowed-out feeling in my chest and stomach is not as noticeable.”
― Veronica Roth, Insurgent

“but it's far too late for us; ring, hair, letters, photographs--all traces of our love will be scattered then, like an anagram...”
― Lemony Snicket, The Beatrice Letters

“I will love you as a drawer loves a secret compartment, and as a secret compartment loves a secret, and as a secret loves to make a person gasp, and as a gasping person loves a glass of brandy to calm their nerves, and as a glass of brandy loves to shatter on the floor, and as the noise of glass shattering loves to make someone else gasp, and as someone else gasping loves a nearby desk to lean against, even if leaning against it presses a lever that loves to open a drawer and reveal a secret compartment. I will love you until all such compartments are discovered and opened, and until all the secrets have gone gasping into the world. I will love you until all the codes and hearts have been broken and until every anagram and egg has been unscrambled. I will love you until every fire is extinguished and until every home is rebuilt form the handsomest and most susceptible of woods, and until every criminal is handcuffed by the laziest of policemen. I will love you until M. hates snakes and J. hates grammar, and I will love you until C. realizes S. is not worthy of his love and N. realizes he is not worthy of the V. I will love you until the bird hates a nest and the worm hates an apple, and until the apple hates a tree and the tree hates a nest, and until a bird hates a tree and an apple hates a nest, although honestly I cannot imagine that last occurrence no matter how hard I try. I will love you as we grow older, which has just happened, and has happened again, and happened several days ago, continuously, and then several years before that, and will continue to happen as the spinning hands of every clock and the flipping pages of every calendar mark the passage of time, except for the clocks that people have forgotten to wind and the calendars that people have forgotten to place in a highly visible area. I will love you as we find ourselves farther and farther from one another, where once we were so close that we could slip the curved straw, and the long, slender spoon, between our lips and fingers respectively. I will love you until the chances of us running into one another slip from skim to zero, and until your face is fogged by distant memory, and your memory faced by distant fog, and your fog memorized by a distant face, and your distance distanced by the memorized memory of a foggy fog. I will love you no matter where you go and who you see, no matter where you avoid and who you don’t see, and no matter who sees you avoiding where you go. I will love you no matter what happens to you, and no matter how I discover what happens to you, and no matter what happens to me as I discover this, and no matter how I am discovered after what happens to me happens to me as I am discovering this. I will love you if you don’t marry me. I will love you if you marry someone else – your co-star, perhaps, or Y., or even O., or anyone Z. through A., even R. although sadly I believe it will be quite some time before two women can be allowed to marry – and I will love you if you have a child, and I will love you if you have two children, or three children, or even more, although I personally think three is plenty, and I will love you if you never marry at all, and never have children, and spend your years wishing you had married me after all, and I must say that on late, cold nights I prefer this scenario out of all the scenarios I have mentioned. That, Beatrice, is how I will love you even as the world goes on its wicked way.”
― Lemony Snicket, The Beatrice Letters

“Foul words is but foul wind, and foul wind is but foul breath, and foul breath is noisome; therefore I will depart unkissed.”
― William Shakespeare, Much Ado About Nothing

“I will love you with no regard to the actions of our enemies or the jealousies of actors. I will love you with no regard to the outrage of certain parents or the boredom of certain friends. I will love you no matter what is served in the world’s cafeterias or what game is played at each and every recess. I will love you no matter how many fire drills we are all forced to endure, and no matter what is drawn upon the blackboard in a blurring, boring chalk. I will love you no matter how many mistakes I make when trying to reduce fractions, and no matter how difficult it is to memorize the periodic table. I will love you no matter what your locker combination was, or how you decided to spend your time during study hall. I will love you no matter how your soccer team performed in the tournament or how many stains I received on my cheerleading uniform. I will love you if I never see you again, and I will love you if I see you every Tuesday. I will love you if you cut your hair and I will love you if you cut the hair of others. I will love you if you abandon your baticeering, and I will love you if you retire from the theater to take up some other, less dangerous occupation. I will love you if you drop your raincoat on the floor instead of hanging it up and I will love you if you betray your father. I will love you even if you announce that the poetry of Edgar Guest is the best in the world and even if you announce that the work of Zilpha Keatley Snyder is unbearably tedious. I will love you if you abandon the theremin and take up the harmonica and I will love you if you donate your marmosets to the zoo and your tree frogs to M. I will love you as the starfish loves a coral reef and as kudzu loves trees, even if the oceans turn to sawdust and the trees fall in the forest without anyone around to hear them. I will love you as the pesto loves the fetuccini and as the horseradish loves the miyagi, as the tempura loves the ikura and the pepperoni loves the pizza. I will love you as the manatee loves the head of lettuce and as the dark spot loves the leopard, as the leech loves the ankle of a wader and as a corpse loves the beak of the vulture. I will love you as the doctor loves his sickest patient and a lake loves its thirstiest swimmer. I will love you as the beard loves the chin, and the crumbs love the beard, and the damp napkin loves the crumbs, and the precious document loves the dampness in the napkin, and the squinting eye of the reader loves the smudged print of the document, and the tears of sadness love the squinting eye as it misreads what is written. I will love you as the iceberg loves the ship, and the passengers love the lifeboat, and the lifeboat loves the teeth of the sperm whale, and the sperm whale loves the flavor of naval uniforms. I will love you as a child loves to overhear the conversations of its parents, and the parents love the sound of their own arguing voices, and as the pen loves to write down the words these voices utter in a notebook for safekeeping. I will love you as a shingle loves falling off a house on a windy day and striking a grumpy person across the chin, and as an oven loves malfunctioning in the middle of roasting a turkey. I will love you as an airplane loves to fall from a clear blue sky and as an escalator loves to entangle expensive scarves in its mechanisms. I will love you as a wet paper towel loves to be crumpled into a ball and thrown at a bathroom ceiling and an eraser loves to leave dust in the hairdos of the people who talk too much. I will love you as a taxi loves the muddy splash of a puddle and as a library loves the patient tick of a clock. I will love you as a thief loves a gallery and as a crow loves a murder, as a cloud loves bats and as a range loves braes. I will love you as misfortune loves orphans, as fire loves innocence and as justice loves to sit and watch while everything goes wrong.”
― Lemony Snicket, The Beatrice Letters

“Oh, wow."

"What do you think?"

"I tried to imagine, but--I mean...it's so much more--"

"Think it's large enough to keep you satisfied for a while?"

"It's so much bigger than I expected"

He backed away, leaving Beatrice to gaze in wonder at the library that took up half of the second floor.

"I think I'll just leave you two alone for a bit," he said with a chuckle.”
― Elizabeth Hunter, A Hidden Fire

“For Beatrice- I would much prefer it if you were alive and well.”
― Lemony Snicket, The Wide Window

“For Beatrice —
I cherished, you perished,
The world's been nightmarished.”
― Lemony Snicket, The End

“Love rules me. It determines what I ask.”
― Dante Alighieri, The Divine Comedy

“Is your underwear purple, too?”
― F. Scott Fitzgerald, This Side of Paradise

“It's been a while since I've had sex. I figured it was just like riding a bike, the only difference is that after a while, the bike doesn't turn you over and ride you.”
― Beatrice Stark Girl Detective

“Go to hell."
A flicker of madness crept into his eyes. "Already there.”
― Elizabeth Hunter, A Hidden Fire

“In that moment I’m able to accept the inevitability of how I feel, though not with joy. I need to talk to someone. I need to trust someone. And for whatever reason, I know, I know it’s her.”
― Veronica Roth, Four: A Divergent Story Collection

“...you found me in my lonely labyrinth and like Beatrice, led me out of my own hell...”
― John Geddes, A Familiar Rain

“Ink to parchment, words to paper, glory to Beatrice.”
― Dante

“Could Beatrice have written like Dante,
or Laura have glorified love's pain?
I set the style for women's speech.
God help me shut them up again!”
― Anna Akhmatova, The Complete Poems of Anna Akhmatova

“É revelador da crueldade do destino que eu tenha de viajar com aqueles que odeio quando deixo para trás, já mortas, as pessoas que amo.”
― Veronica Roth, Divergent

“Cortesia é desilusão embrulhada em papel de embrulho.”
― Veronica Roth, Divergent

“Deixa que a culpa te ensine como agir da próxima vez”
― Veronica Roth, Insurgent

“The human race is a scummy thing, and so is Earth, and so are you.”
― Kurt Vonnegut

“Benedick was about to lose his ally. He asked, "What was it again you needed me to do?"
Prince considered and said, "Favor Beatrice with your company?"
"I hate you," Benedick thought.
Prince smiled as if he'd heard him.”
― McKelle George, Speak Easy, Speak Love

“Lady Beatrice's left eye stares boldly at me through the opening of a mask that she holds up to her face. Her light hair is piled half onto the top of her head, the other half arrayed around her shoulders. An unusual ring adorns her right hand, and I zoom in on the portrait to see it more clearly. The ring is a diamond in the shape of an icicle.
I return to the Wikipedia article and click on the next image--a painting of Beatrice on the night of her hanging. She is older in this painting, but her blond hair is styled the same as in the earlier, youthful portrait. The painting depicts screaming townspeople snatching at the skirts of her heavy gown as she attempts to flee. Leaves and flowers are woven through her hair, and a long garland drapes across her dress, giving her the appearance of nature itself.
I look closer. There is no doubt that I resemble her; our blue eyes, high cheekbones, and ivory skin are all a match. We could be sisters from different eras.”
― Alexandra Monir, Suspicion

“For more than a century now, Lady Beatrice Rockford (1811-1850) has been known as "that wicked American" and her husband, the fifth Duke of Wickersham, the victim forced to send her to the gallows. But these roles are ludicrously reversed. The real ugly stain in my family history is my ancestor, the duke who murdered his wife simply because she was capable of something he had never seen. He feared what he didn't understand, and let his fear drive him to evil.
Is there anything inherently wrong in having a paranormal talent? More than likely, Lady Beatrice didn't wish for her gift, and with the exception of the burned garden, which she instantly restored, there are no accounts of her ever using her skill to cause any harm.
If we misconstrue that which we don't understand as frightening or criminal, then we are lost. But if we recognize differences in others as something beautiful or miraculous---even, or especially, differences as astounding as Lady Beatrice's---then we all win in the end.”
― Alexandra Monir, Suspicion

“Lady Beatrice insisted that she was no witch, but an Elemental. This is an unfamiliar term to most, but certainly not one invented by the late duchess. References to Elementalism are found as far back as in Greek mythology and Ancient Egyptian writings.
An Elemental is known as a child of nature. Unlike mere humans, they are one with the four elements, able to manipulate the air, earth, water, and fire around them. There are those who find it a frightening concept, but I have interviewed two of the late duchess's acquaintances who profess that she used her gift for good. A Wickersham tenant farmer who was growing destitute from the lack of thriving crops recalls that Lady Beatrice visited his land, and shortly after her departure, the soil came back to life and grew fertile.”
― Alexandra Monir, Suspicion

“Beatrice hizo una referencia ante el ataúd de su padre cuando la procesión llegó a las puertas del palacio. Como insectos, las cámaras entonaron un coro de chasquidos mientras los fotógrafos se esforzaban por inmortalizar esa imagen icónica: la nueva y joven reina, inclinándose ante alguien por última vez.”
― Katharine McGee, Majesty