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P Quotes

Browse famous quotes beginning with P. This page is a child index of the full Popular Quotes A-Z directory.

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“Phobos et dysthymiè circonscrivent l'un et l'autre une difficulté intime, un désordre intérieur du sujet par rapport aux sollicitations extérieures. Le phobos, expression d'abord cynégétique ou militaire de l'effarouchement, signifie la fuite angoissée, soudaine, irréfléchie, devant la réalité, engageant tour à tour l'agitation panique et le repli prostré. La dysthymie, c'est l'atteinte de ce principe de vie qu'est le thymos, sorte de plexus solaire de l'âme ; le vocable suggère la déroute de la ligne de vie, un malaise écœuré devant l'existence : plus même que la crainte, presque la hantise de vivre, le mal de vivre, une éclipse du plexus solaire, prenant comme la phobie la double voie du repli sur soi et de la perte panique de soi. Se profile dans l'un et l'autre vocable ainsi compris la double extension du modèle mélancolique promise par l'histoire ancienne et moderne : d'un côté vers la dépression, figure de prostration ; de l'autre vers le délire, manifestation panique.”

“Phoebe had recounted some injustice done to her by a playmate, saying she wouldn’t accept the girl’s apology, Evie had persuaded her to reconsider for the sake of kindness. “But she’s a bad, selfish girl,” Phoebe had said indignantly. Her mother’s reply was gentle but matter-of-fact. “Kindness counts the most when it’s given to people who don’t deserve it.” “Does Gabriel have to be kind to everyone too?” Phoebe had demanded. “Yes, darling.” “Does Father?” “No, Redbird,” Sebastian had replied, his mouth twitching at the corners. “That’s why I married your mother—she’s kind enough for two people.” “Mother,” Gabriel had asked hopefully, “could you be kind enough for three people?” At that, their father had taken a sudden intense interest in his newspaper, lifting it in front of his face. A quiet wheeze emerged from behind it. “I’m afraid not, dear,” Evie had said gently, her eyes sparkling. “But I’m sure you and your sister can find a great deal of kindness in your own hearts.”

“Phoebe is disappointed, too. She didn’t have a speech, but she was still looking forward to getting up there, speaking in front of the crowd, saying nice things about what Lila has meant to her this week, and really taking her place as Lila’s friend. But maybe this is why Lila has no real friends, Phoebe thinks. She doesn’t know how to keep them. She keeps trading them in for something else.”

“Phoebe knew West couldn't see beyond his own fears of being unworthy, of someday causing her unhappiness. But this high degree of concern was precisely what inclined her to trust him. One thing was clear: if she wanted him, she would have to be the pursuer. West lounged on the floor between her two sons, a heavy forelock of dark hair falling over his forehead. "What does a chicken say?" he asked Stephen, holding up a wooden figure. The toddler took it from him and answered, "Rowwr!" West blinked in surprise and began to chuckle along with Justin. "By God, that is a fierce chicken." Delighted by his effect on West, Stephen held up the chicken. "Rowwr," he growled again, and this time West and Justin collapsed in laughter. Quickly West reached out to the toddler's blond head, pulled him closer and crushed a brief kiss among the soft curls. Had there been any doubts lingering in Phoebe's mind, they were demolished in that moment. Oh, yes... I want this man.”

“Phoebe!" Lady Phoebe Ravenel turned and came to her with a laugh of delight. They had known each other their entire lives, growing up together, sharing secrets, joys, and sorrows. Phoebe was strikingly beautiful, as tall and willowy as Merritt was short and solid. Like Merritt, she had been widowed a few years ago, although in Phoebe's case, the loss had not been unexpected. Her first husband, Henry, had suffered from a prolonged wasting disease, and had passed away before the birth of their second son. Then West Ravenel had come into Phoebe's life, and they had married after a courtship so brief, it hardly even qualified as whirlwind.”

“Phoebe left a note asking me to go through our family genealogy books to see if we had any Scottish ancestors. She found none on your mother's side at all, and she said you'd be disappointed if there were none on Father's side." Surprised and touched by both sisters' concern, Keir shook his head with a smile. "Dinna worry about that, Seraphina. I decided 'tis enough to be Scottish in my heart." "Still, you wouldn't mind if I told you we have some Scottish blood, would you?" she asked, her eyes twinkling. "Because I've discovered that we do in fact have a Scot in our family tree! It's been overlooked because he's not in our direct line. I had to trace the connection through some female ancestors instead of going only through the male lineage. But we are very clearly indisputably descended from a Scot who was our great-great-great-great-great... well, let's say eighteen-times-great... grandfather. And just see who it is!" Seraphina unfolded the parchment, which was inscribed with a long vertical chart of connected names. And at the top- ROBERT I King of Scots "Robert the Bruce?" Keir could feel his heart expanding in his chest. "Yes," Seraphina said gleefully, leaping up and bouncing on her heels. Keir stood, laughing, and bent to kiss her cheek. "One drop of Robert the Bruce's blood will do the job. I could no' be happier. Thank you, sister." He tried to hand the chart back to her, but she shook her head. "Keep that if you like. Isn't it wonderful news? I have to go tell Ivo we're Scottish!" She left the room triumphantly.”

“Phoebe, the fact that I asked you to be a chaperone should have made it obvious that I didn't want a chaperone at all." "I have no desire to be one," Phoebe retorted. "However, the children are asking why you're taking so long, and I can't very well explain that you're a libidinous goat." "No," Gabriel replied, "because then you would sound like a parsimonious prig." Pandora was perplexed by the quick, fond grins the siblings exchanged after the sharp words.”

“Phoebe was relieved to discover she would be accompanied by Westcliff's oldest son, Lord Foxhall, whom she had known her entire life. He was a big, boldly handsome man in his twenties, an avid sportsman like his father. As the earl's heir, he had been accorded a viscountcy, but he and Phoebe were far too familiar to stand on ceremony. "Fox," she exclaimed, a wide smile crossing her face. "Cousin Phoebe." He leaned down to kiss her cheek, his dark eyes snapping with lively humor. "It seems I'm your escort. Bad luck for you." "To me it's good luck- how could it be otherwise?" "With all the eligible men present, you should be with one who doesn't remember you as a little girl in pigtails, sliding down one of the banisters at Stony Cross Manor.”

“Phoenicians pioneered a new style of writing that reproduced not images of the things described but the sounds used for them in speech--the first alphabetic script, As trade developed, writing became more common, for clay tablets had been replaced by an Egyptian technology: papyrus. The thinner more flexible material, made from the pith of reeds growing along the Nile, is the ancestor of the English word 'paper' (now being replaced by The Tablet).”

“Phoenix He already Walked through my soul, it's where he learned to fly Now I'm getting used to being ignored in a purposeful way Although it hurts when my heart shakes out of solitude’s grace To find only a mirror willing to pull my embrace Sometimes a title is dragged through its whole story like an anchor the reader's mind uses to decode ashes in the strokes It places heavy crowns on delicate heads which form into it As frail necks hurt from not being allowed to swing away from your sight I've seen the rising from death by someone who truly thought they weren't coming back And I've seen love cast into chains unexpectedly in the simpler sense of the word To accept silence in response to sincere apologies To stand in pain at requests our hearts don't want to fulfill It's the issue we created by not separating our universes”

“Phoenix Queen: You blaze so brightly You set fire to the heart of this world. You conjure up enormous love in all you give, And keep rising from the ashes as a Phoenix queen. Some will be burned by your flame, Try to cool you, put you out, Make you think that your passion is something to doubt, But the ones that truly matter will dance with your flame, Stoke you, stroke you, And stay lit right beside you.”

“Phoenix sank to the desk chair and stared at her computer screen. “I don’t know. I’ve lived like this for so long, it’s who I am. Everything seems so stupid. Like, look at this girl,writing to Sasha. She’s all”—he spoke in a falsetto voice—“‘OMG!’ and ‘LOL!’ and ‘WTF?’ and ‘Girl, you should totes go out with Tyler in Telluride!’” He looked up at her.“You’re seventeen years old, and this is how seventeenyear-olds talk to each other. I’m a thousand years old, and this stuff is like alien-speak to me. If I found another Anabo,she’d be writing OMG and I’d be thinking, You’re f’ing kidding me.”

“Phoenix." Tezuka's unfinished masterpiece. "Phoenix" is the Christ of manga's ode to change... Resurrection... Since I am such a noted manga scholar, you might think my life has always been a roaring success... But the truth is that I'm forever attempting to be reborn out of the flames of my own misery and painfully obvious worthlessness.”