Parasols Quotes

• Gira la sombrilla tres veces y repite después de mí: Me escudo en nombre de la moda. Yo accesorizo para todos y cada uno. La búsqueda de la verdad es mi pasión. Lo juro por la gran sombrilla.

  Gail Carriger

  Fashion, Passion, Names

  Gail Carriger (2012). “Timeless: Book 5 of The Parasol Protectorate”, p.66, Hachette UK

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• What happened to the good old days of "Woman as passive recipient?" What happened to being courted? What happened to sitting back under a parasol and granting someone a chance to try to win us over?

  Cathy Guisewite

  Winning, Trying, Sitting

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• Se tomó un momento para lamentar la falta de su sombrilla. Cada vez que salía de casa, sentía profundamente la ausencia de su hasta entonces omnipresente accesorio.

  Gail Carriger

  House, Accessories, Moments

  Gail Carriger (2012). “Timeless: Book 5 of The Parasol Protectorate”, p.29, Hachette UK

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• What a circus act we women perform every day of our lives. Look at us. We run a tightrope daily, balancing a pile of books on the head. Baby-carriage, parasol, kitchen chair, still under control. Steady now! This is not the life of simplicity but the life of multiplicity that the wise men warn us of.

  Anne Morrow Lindbergh

  Wise, Running, Baby

  "The New York Times Biographical Service, Volume 32". Book by Anne Morrow Lindbergh (p. 224), 1975.

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• The circus tent was flowing pale in the rain like a fleshy flower lit from within. It seemed to bloom in the downpour. Drops of rain caught on Rafe's eyelashes, blinding him as the circus light struck them. He groped for the flap, that slit in the fabric that would reveal her to him. She was on the rope again, her skirt flashing with tiny mirrors, hair braided with petals. He looked up at her, dizzy with it, seeing her face framed in the parasol. There were bluish shadows around her eyes.

  Francesca Lia Block

  Rain, Flower, Eye

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• Sophie did not care to think how Howl might react if Fanny woke him by stabbing him with her parasol.

  Diana Wynne Jones

  Thinking, Sophie, Care

  Diana Wynne Jones (2002). "El castillo del mago"

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• Lady Maccon stopped suddenly. Her husband got four long strides ahead before he realized she had paused. She was starring thoughtfully up into the aether, twirling the deadly parasol about her head. "I have just remembered something," Alexia said when he returned to her side. "Oh, that explains everything. How foolish of me to think you could walk and remember at the same time.

  Gail Carriger

  Husband, Thinking, Long

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• I kissed her," he explained, aggrieved. "Mmm, yes, I had the dubious pleasure of witnessing that, ah-hem, overly public occurrence." Lyall sharpened his pen nib, using a small copper blade that ejected from the end of his glassicals. "Well! Why hasn't she done anything about it?" the Alpha wanted to know. "You mean like whack you upside the noggin with that deadly parasol of hers? I would be cautious in that area if I were you.

  Gail Carriger

  Mean, Dubious, Would Be

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• The general must be the first in the toils and fatigues of the army. In the heat of summer he does not spread his parasol nor in the cold of winter don thick clothing. In dangerous places he must dismount and walk. He waits until the army's wells have been dug and only then drinks; until the army's food is cooked before he eats; until the army's fortifications have been completed, to shelter himself.

  Sun Tzu

  Summer, Art, War

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• La ropa icónica se ha secularizado. . . . Un guardia con uniforme de gala es ostensiblemente un icono de la agresión; su abrigo es rojo como la sangre que espera derramar. Visto en una percha, sin ningún hombre en su interior, el uniforme pierde toda su rotunda significación y, para el ojo inocente seducido por el color decorativo y el trenzado táctil, es tan abstracto en información simbólica como una sombrilla para un esquimal. Se convierte en algo sencillamente magnífico.

  Angela Carter

  Esperanza, Ojo, Hombres

  Angela Carter (1998). "Shaking a Leg: Collected Writings", Penguin Group USA

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• Lady Maccon.” “By George, Boots! How the deuce can you possibly tell that there is Lady Maccon?” queried the other top-hated gentleman. “Who else would be standing in the middle of a street on full-moon night with a raging ruddy fire behind her, waving a parasol about?” “Good point, good point.

  Gail Carriger

  Moon, Night, Fire

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