Quotes About Slippers

Faults shared are as comfortable as bedroom slippers and as easy to slip into.

So swift was the motion that her bedroom slippers were left standing on the stepladder rungs.

Like hell he was, said the first C.I.D. man. I'm the C.I.D. man arround here. Major Major could barely recognize him because he was wearing a faded maroon corduroy bathrobe with open seams under both arms, linty flannel pajamas, & worn house slippers with one flapping sole.

He woke up blearily, got up, wandered blearily round his room, opened a window, saw a bulldozer, found his slippers, and stomped off to the bathroom to wash. Toothpaste on the brush—so. Scrub. Shaving mirror—pointing at the ceiling. He adjusted it. For a moment it reflected a second bulldozer through the bathroom window.

If she did have to describe the kind of person who hunted vampires though, she was certain of one thing. It wouldn't be the kind of person who wore pink fluffy slippers at night and fell asleep in front of the television

History is only the pattern of silken slippers descending the stairs to the thunder of hobnailed boots climbing upward from below.

I've never walked home wearing just a pink robe and a pair of slippers.

First, you start carrying a man satchel. Next thing you know, you're running around in a bathrobe and pink bunny slippers, chasing chickens with a weed whacker.

the stately and slow-moving Turk, With freight of slippers piled beneath his arm.

By the end of his life, one has a far easier time picturing Hugh Hefner buying his girlfriend a comfy pair of slippers than one of the satin corsets the Bunnies used to wear.

At midnight I looked about to discover that I was the oldest living human being in the world. A twinge of shame. I should be at home, I thought, in my slippers and my bronchitic scarf.

One of these men told me at a book festival that if he did not transgress too many boundaries in his marriage, there would always be a comforting pair of slippers warming for him by the fire...Will there ever be a comforting pair of slippers (pink, feathered) warming for me by the egg-shaped fireplace? Not unless I became a female character in a vintage Hollywood movie and paid a housekeeper to put them there.

Mail finally arrived for some troops—many had received nothing for two months or more—and Christmas packages often implied a certain homefront incomprehension of life in the combat zone: bathrobes, slippers, and phonograph records were particularly popular.

to hike along a deep-rutted, pebbly lane in frail, silver-hued slippers with high French heels, is not an exhilirating experience.

My mug had a reindeer in a bathrobe and slippers with Christmas lights laced in its antlers, toasting the merry season with champagne and saying, "Bingle Jells.

bedroom. I am wearing my Freud slippers, the fuzzy ones made to look like his face, and Target pajamas, the ones with the purple monkeys. This is the clothing equivalent of my happy place.

I have no problem with the idea of comfort, but it is not an important thing aesthetically. If you look at a shoe and immediately say it looks very comfortable, in terms of design, it is not going to excite me. Of course, I am not putting nails in my shoes to ensure everybody is in pain, but a heel is not a pair of slippers and never will be.

Men, she thought, were one of the world's few sure comforts, like a fire on a cold October night, like cocoa, like broken-in-slippers. Their clumsy affections, their bristly faces, and their willingness to do what needed to be done - cook an omelette, change lightbulbs, make with hugging - sometimes almost made being a woman fun.

Men, she thought, were one of the world's few sure comforts, like a fire on a cold October night, like cocoa, like broken-in slippers.

Men, she thought, were one of the world's few sure comforts, like a fire on a cold October night, like cocoa, like broken-in slippers. Their clumsy affections, their bristly faces, and their willingness to do what needed to be done—cook an omelet, change lightbulbs, make with hugging—sometimes almost made being a woman fun.

In the reflection I see my shoulder-length curly brown hair. My lime-green pajamas. My striped slippers.

But how should women perform so wise and glorious an achievement, we women who dwell in the retirement of the household, clad in diaphanous garments of yellow silk and long flowing gowns, decked out with flowers and shod with dainty little slippers?

My mother always said bringing me up was a tiring business, which I 'believe. For instance, when we lived in Singapore, the Chinese staff used to leave their slippers at the bottom of the steps. Every night, I used to go and remove their slippers. I stopped being tiresome at about 14.

I'm not big on fuzzy or fleecy slippers. I just don't like the texture and the heat. It just gets to be too much.