Quotes About Apron

Our friendship is made of bendy straws, long midnight letters, my so-called life marathons, sleepless sleepovers, diner milk shakes, apron strings, a belief in beauty, sucking helium, and the most trust I've ever felt for anyone, including myself.

The morning air was like a new dress. That made her feel the apron tied around her waist. She untied it and flung it on a low bush beside the road and walked on, picking flowers and making a bouquet… From now on until death she was going to have flower dust and springtime sprinkled over everything.

The morning road air was like a new dress. That made her feel the apron tied around her waist. She untied it and flung it on a low bush beside the road and walked on

I had no occasion for an apron on that morning.

No one dared agree with her. She was temperamental in the best of times, and pregnancy wasn't one of them. No one wanted to risk their neck, not when her apron said it all: K*SS MY *SS— Would you like to buy a vowel?

Cooking is 80 percent confidence, a skill best acquired starting from when the apron strings wrap around you twice.

The next day there was a sign in front of the school: "Welcome, Ms. LaGrange!" Mr. Klutz was standing at the front door next to a lady I never saw before. Her hair stuck out from under a big chef's hat, and she was wearing an apron with the words "Make Lunch, Not War" on it. "Ms. LaGrange, this is A.J.," Mr. Klutz said when I reached the top of the steps. "Maybe you can get him to eat some vegetables.

I'm in need of a man apron. A very manly apron.

Bud edged up next to a young man in a butcher's apron who had a baseball cap on backwards.

One of the few articles of clothing that a man won't try to remove from a woman is an apron.

Pino ignored her, focusing instead on the locomotive in an apron chugging out of the kitchen

Someone's hand clamps down on my shoulder and it's one of the men trimming the vegetables on Baldwin Street. He wears a white apron stained with dirt and smears of green and red. "Go from here," he says to me.

Ama wipes her hands on her apron, looks up at our old roof with new eyes, and lifts the baby from his basket. She twirls him in the air, her skirts flying around her ankles the way the clouds swirl around the mountain cap--her laughter fresh and strange and musical to my ears.