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Princess Jasmine Quotes

Browse 37 quotes about Princess Jasmine.

Princess Jasmine Quotes

“Especially because you have the most important quality of a sultana, at least in my mind." "And what is that?" Jasmine asked, mentally running through the key words from her coronation vows. Noble descent, innate worth, wisdom, justice. "Your kindness," Nadia answered. "The fact that you don't look down on anyone. I know of no other princess or noble lady who would treat a handmaiden as a close friend, or choose a man of Aladdin's background as a future husband. You see beyond rank, and I know that will make you a beloved sultana." She smiled. "Sultana of the people's hearts.”

“He looked around for a plank he could lay down between the rooftops for her to walk across. But before he could think of some way of changing the subject- or staying on this one- the girl had found a pole of her own and leapt nimbly across to him. Far, far more gracefully than he had. Her robes swirled around her as she landed like a queen of the djinn alighting on the golden sands on the desert. "I learn pretty quickly," she said with mock haughtiness. Aladdin was once again speechless. What sort of rich girl was this? One who could leap like a mountain goat and play crazy at a moment's notice? Who had never seen poverty before and now, confronted with it, thought about it quietly rather than making rash statements? Who didn't care that Aladdin was a thief, except when he applied different standards to her? He was a loner, not a hermit; he had known other girls. Morgiana the Shadow, Abanbanu the tailor's daughter, Nefret with the strange green eyes, who came from the desert when the moon was new to trade trinkets from faraway lands. None of them was like this girl.”

“Jasmine emerged from her bedroom in a crystal-embellished ivory organza dress over sheer trousers with a turquoise beaded peacock cape over her shoulders. She felt like she was floating in the dress as Nadia walked behind her, holding the train of her cape. Suddenly, Jasmine realized something was missing. "Just a moment, please." She turned back swiftly, returning to her bedroom and dressing table. Pulling open the drawer, she found the marble jewelry box she was looking for, with a jade cuff bracelet inside. It wouldn't match her coronation robes, but it was just the finishing touch Jasmine needed: her mother's favorite piece of jewelry.”

“History is my strong suit." She had long ago taken it upon herself to read every book in the palace library, after discovering just how flimsy her education was. While the sons and daughters of palace courtiers came home from school each day brimming with new knowledge, Jasmine was kept at home with a tutor--- and her private lessons in etiquette and art weren't exactly the foundation that kings were built on. Sometimes Jasmine had the sneaking suspicion that Taminah never expected her to end up on the throne at all, that she was preparing the princess to be a royal wife instead. After all, she had mentioned more than once the possibility of Jasmine having a son in the future who could rule in her stead. But one other thing the older woman had done right was introduce Jasmine to books, especially Agrabah's myths and fables, in which terrors jumped from every page. Stories with heroes and demons so vivid, they could have been real. After she had read all the stories she could get her hands on, Jasmine moved on to history texts and illustrated maps. Hers might have been an incomplete education, but those books allowed a sheltered princess to see some of the world, both real and imagined. And they gave her a window into the past.”

“Her breath caught as a memory hit her like a tidal wave: ten-year-old Jasmine, curled up with a book at her father's feet while he worked through the piles of parchment in the box, full of official correspondence from his ministers and satraps, the governors who ruled neighboring provinces in the sultan's name. "One day, Jasmine azizam, this will be your job too," he had said, peering down at her with a serious expression. "It's the most important work a mortal could ever do: taking care of an entire kingdom and its people. Is that something you can see yourself doing one day? Ruling just like your Baba?" "I only have to do it if you don't have a son." Jasmine had shrugged off the question with all the carefree obliviousness of a child. An inscrutable expression had come over her father then. He opened his mouth to say something and stopped, as if thinking better of it. And then he reached down to squeeze her shoulder. "There will be no son, Jasmine," he had said. "You are the one.”

“Spread over what must have been at least a hectare or two was the most beautiful garden he had ever seen. There was an entire miniature forest of cedar, cypress, and other sweet-smelling pines that couldn't normally live in the hot and dry Agrabah. There were formal rows of roses and other delicately petaled flowers. There was a garden just of mountain plants. There was a pool filled with flowering white lilies and their pads, and pink lotuses taller than most men. There was a fountain as big as a house and shaped like an egg. There was a delicate white aviary that looked like a giant's birdcage. Strangely, there were no birds in it. And everywhere, entwined around every tiny building and every balustrade and every topiary ball, was jasmine. White jasmine, pink jasmine, yellow jasmine, night-flowering jasmine... the smell was heady enough to make Aladdin feel a little drunk. Jasmine. This was her garden.”

“She wore a tan robe and headscarf, the clothes of a local... but didn't feel like a market regular. She moved slowly and gazed at everything with a child's wonder. Her eyes were large and clear, her hair as black as midnight. She had a warm smile on her pretty lips and was obviously murmuring 'hellos' and 'excuse mes' to people who really didn't care or want to talk. She walked with the grace of a cloud in the wind, like her body weighed nothing at all, and held her head high with easy dignity. Easy. Aladdin felt his heart contract. He had never seen her- or anyone like her- before. When the girl adjusted her scarf, she revealed an intricate diadem in her hair that had a ridiculously sized emerald in it. 'Ah, a rich girl, out for a day of shopping in the market without her servants. Living dangerously, playing hooky.”

“She watched the children and he watched her face as she tried to process everything she had just learned. She was innocent; that was true. But there was intelligence in those large eyes. She picked up things very, very quickly. It was more than Aladdin could usually say about those who weren't Street Rats. What a waste, for some father to trap such a smart, interesting girl behind a garden gate, like a prized animal...”

“That girl, the girl he had spent the afternoon with, the girl who had leapt off the sides of buildings and pole-vaulted off others, who had charmed Abu and shared an apple with him, was not some rich girl off for a jaunt or running away from home. She was a princess. The royal princess. Jasmine. Her eyes were black and hard. Her back was straight; her arms hung gracefully at her sides as if she had too much power even to need to put them on her hips or cross them in anger. Her diadem sparkled. "The princess...?" Aladdin said faintly. It was said that Jasmine was beautiful; it was said she was quick-witted. Both of these were without question true. It was also said that she was a witch with a tiger for a familiar. It was said she tore her suitors to shreds- verbally and, vis-a-vis the tiger, occasionally literally. "Princess Jasmine," Rasoul said immediately, lowering his eyes and bowing. "What are you doing outside the palace? And with this... Street Rat?" "That is none of your concern," Jasmine said. She put her hands on her hips and marched right up into the captain's space as if he was no more to her than an irritating camel. "Do as I command. Release him.”

“She walked to the doorway and looked up at the sky; even with the dust she could see Hormozd, the large red planet, just beginning to sink behind the mountains. On the other side of the sky, the heavens were a shade lighter than they had been just a while ago. The sun was preparing to rise. "I will do what needs to be done." "Of course, Princess. You would... you would make the warriors of old proud.”

“So Jafar knows I'm in the city- he probably already knew that. He doesn't know where I'll be next. Because... I never stay still. I never sleep in the same place twice. I move like the wind and the shadows. I am sheltered by the good and faithful all over Agrabah, in every neighborhood. Go crawling back to your master, scum. Tell him that I am the eyes and ears of my people, and they do not want him.”

“Can we get outside?" he asked Jasmine in a gasp. "Up ahead," she said between breaths. "There is a columned loggia that leads to the Courtyard of the Rose-Scented Footstools." Aladdin looked at her. "Just kidding," she said with a quick smile. "They don't really smell." The tiger bounded ahead as if he knew the plan. The carpet stayed behind them as if he was guarding the rear. Aladdin wasn't sure what a loggia was, but ahead there was a hall dotted with columns that opened up into a large courtyard with no ceiling overhead. There were lemon trees, sweet-scented myrtle, and pots of roses. More columns, ornamental and abstract, decorated the interior of the courtyard along with statues depicting ancient river gods. There were indeed footstools- carved into the shape of roses.”

“Today wasn't the first time that Jasmine had sensed something supernatural within the palace. With so many storied figures having lived and died between these walls over the past centuries, it was only fitting that they would make their presence felt. She recognized them in the strange ring of light that sometimes skimmed across a sculpture of one of her ancestors in the Hall of Monarchs, or when her pet tiger, Rajah, would suddenly look up and growl at thin air--- as if seeing something that shouldn't be there. Eerie as it was, she had always found it strangely comforting to live with ghosts in her midst. It meant that even in her solitary childhood, she had never been alone.”

“The sultan had proven himself on the battlefield back when he was crown prince he'd earned the people's love and reverence before he'd ever taken the throne. Meanwhile, as much as Jasmine had longed to leave the palace gates, in all her eighteen years she'd barely been allowed outside. The comparisons were inevitable, and yet impossible for her to match. I'll have to find my own way, Jasmine realized as she gazed out the crowd. To turn my differences into strengths and prove myself a true leader. Maybe she too could be a diamond in the rough.”

“Aladdin may be a part of your... personal life, but he is no statesman. If you want to be taken seriously by the ministers who run your government, you would do well to separate your young romance from your role as our country's leader." His voice dripped with condescension. Jasmine felt a flash of fury. "And you would do well to remember to whom you are speaking," she said, lifting her chin to meet his gaze. "This isn't just some 'youthful romance,' as you call it. Aladdin is my intended husband. The future consort to your sultana. Speak of him with respect.”

“Baba used to tell me that there are many ways to lead," she said, remembering the words he shared with her. "Some people are strong in their physical being, others mentally, but he would say that a battle is never won on the front lines alone. It's won through hearts and minds, through commitment and strategy. As my father's daughter, I know I have what it takes within me." She stood straighter, gaining confidence. "Besides, isn't the purpose of the royal council to fill in the gaps, to balance the monarch's strengths and weaknesses? If I didn't need help defending Agrabah, then wouldn't that mean I didn't need... you?”

“She dove to the foot of the bed, dodging for the knife just before it sliced through her curtains. Rajah leaped up off the floor, roaring in fury as he tore toward the intruder, giving Jasmine a moment to slide off the edge of the bed. Her feet hit the carpet and she readied her fists, ill-equipped but determined to fight back. Whatever monster belonged to this shadow... she wouldn't let it take her.”

“I must have forgotten how young you would be, Princess. Has there ever been a sovereign of such tender age?" Jasmine paused. He might have been simply making idle conversation, or maybe this was his way of paying her a compliment, but she had a feeling it was something else. He was sizing her up, and he didn't see a leader. "Perhaps you also forgot the boy king of Egypt," she said, keeping her tone sweet as honey. "I am eighteen--- ten years older than Tutankhamun was." "Ah, yes. Of course.”

“But no matter what they did, the sultan always used their time together to share with her the business of running the kingdom, the rewards and judgements he'd handed down during the week. It occurred to Jasmine now, as she awoke on her first Friday without him, that he had been preparing her. Every time he'd told her the reasons for one decision or another, whether he'd said yes or no to a subject's plea, he was giving Jasmine a road map to follow when it was her turn to rule. He believed I could do it. And if he believed... then so do I.”

“Outside the closed doors to the throne room, Sharif the high elder waited, holding a kaftan robe of red silk and velvet in one hand and a long spear nearly twice his height in the other. Jasmine's heart beat faster as she recognized the gold trim and signature jewels lining the robe, the ancient craftsmanship of the spear. These had belonged to Cyrus the Great, the first ruler of the empire. And in mere moments, she would be the first woman to feel them against her skin. Nadia untied Jasmine's peacock cape while the high elder held out the red robe. "Today you shed the persona of Jasmine, the princess," he said, "and step into the skin of a sultana." Jasmine took a deep breath, slipping her arms into the preserved silk. The material was more fragile than anything she'd worn before, and she was conscious that one wrong step, one tear of the fabric, would be rip through history. Yet she felt stronger in the cape too, as though Cyrus were transferring his power through it to her. When Sharif handed her Cyrus's spear, she could barely contain her awe.”

“Jasmine dressed carefully the next morning, choosing her clothes like they were her armor. She paired a regal purple waistcoat and blouse with matching wide-legged trousers gathered at the ankle and bordered in gold thread, while Nadia dressed her hair with a diamond-studded tiara inherited from Jasmine's mother. As she surveyed herself in front of the mirror, the ensemble had just the effect she'd hoped for. There was nothing delicate about Princess Jasmine today. She looked the picture of power. Now it was time for her to claim it.”

“Out of all the palace's awe-inspiring interiors, the Round Library had always been Jasmine's favorite. A marble floor painted with a lotus-flower motif gave way to three tiers of balconies lined with books, stretching up to an arched ceiling where a bronze chandelier flooded the circular space with candlelight. Bound books had still been a novelty when the sultan was young, but in the intervening years, he'd amassed a collection of nearly three thousand titles from across the East. This was where Jasmine had come to fill in the gaps in her knowledge while her nonroyal peers were sent off to school. It was thanks to the books in this room that she'd learned to read and write in Greek and Latin along with Persian and Arabic, that she could look at an astrolabe and point out the different planets in the universe. It was where she'd fallen in love with studying maps and imagining other lands, far from here”

“Jasmine ran her hand along the knife's cool, smooth edge. She had never been allowed to so much as touch weaponry before, but with the blade in her hands, she felt instantly less vulnerable. The three of them spent the better part of an hour up on the roof, with Malik teaching Jasmine the basics of knife skills and defense techniques while Aladdin played the role of opponent. She was clumsy at first, but before long she was unsheathing the blade from her cloak and pointing it up to Aladdin's chin in two seconds flat, while using her other arm as a shield. "Well done, Princess," he said in her ear. "You're a quick study," Malik agreed, and Jasmine flushed with pride.”

“That which is above is from what which is below, and that which is below is from that which is above. A casual reader could have easily interpreted the line to mean that the sun and moon and earth are all connected. But when she read it, all Jasmine could think of was... another world. A world beyond this one. Especially when later sections of the text described the principles of turning base metals into gold and predicted the future creation of an "Elixir of Life"--- immortality--- Jasmine knew her father's interest in this book ran far deeper than mere curiosity. She could feel it.”

“That's when she saw the black ink strokes, underlining four words of the poem: Door. Veil. Thee. Me. And in a flash, the code to the sultan's combination lockbox flew into her mind. D V J S. Door. Veil. Jasmine. Sultan... or sultana. Even though the meaning was still opaque, even though she still hadn't the slightest clue which door or veil her father was trying to draw her toward, something lifted in her chest as she looked at the words. Hope. He was still talking to her, communicating with her, even from another plane. "As above, so below," she whispered.”

“Jasmine turned to see Fatimah, who was chanting something in an unfamiliar language, her eyes locked on Dahish's. Jasmine's mouth fell open as Fatimah's body jerked forward and began to spin, shedding her mortal skin... and revealing herself to be a magnificent blue genie. Dahish roared in fury, focused solely on the genie now. Fatimah extended her arm, sparks flowing from her fingertips as she fought Dahish's breaths of fire with flashes of lightning. While the genie and the ifrit battled on the landing above, and Aladdin and the street fighters defended the palace from the ghūls and monsters, Scheherazade's words echoed in Jasmine's ears. Create the ending of your story that you choose. Forget what is possible... And with the power of her conviction, Jasmine raced up the staircase two at a time to where the ifrit and the genie battled. Taking a steely breath, she leaped up onto the ifrit's fiery back, catching it by surprise--- and with Scheherazade's knife, Jasmine stabbed Dahish in the eye. Dahish flailed blindly, tumbling to the floor. Fatimah swooped down next to him and something materialized in her palm. The brass bottle. The atrium echoed with the sound of his defeated screams as Fatimah captured Dahish and forced him back into his brass bottle, throwing it into the last flames of the fire with Payam's bloodied body. As they burned, the remaining ghūls and snakes disintegrated before Jasmine's eyes, turning to ash now that the ifrit who controlled them was gone. Jasmine and Aladdin ran into each other's arms, exhausted and elated. The battle was won. Fatimah floated toward them, bowing gracefully, as if they hadn't all just been through a war. "Well done, Sultana.”