Old Fashioned Quotes

“Good, old-fashioned ways keep hearts sweet, heads sane, hands busy.”
― Lousia May Alcott

“Take care of your costume and your confidence will take care of itself.”
― Amit Kalantri, Wealth of Words

“You see, unlike most writers today, I do not use a computer. I write the old-fashioned way: on the walls of caves.”
― Cuthbert Soup, Another Whole Nother Story

“By God, I may be old-fashioned in my ideas, but women run around too much these days to suit me. They meet all kinds of crazy fish.”
― F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby

“It's time to shop high heels if your fiance kisses you on the forehead.”
― Amit Kalantri, Wealth of Words

“Dresses don't look beautiful on hangers.”
― Amit Kalantri, Wealth of Words

“Dresses won't worn out in the wardrobe, but that is not what dresses are designed for.”
― Amit Kalantri, Wealth of Words

“If you are unsure about love, then look for a man who understands gentleness; who it passionate about honorable things; who will act swiftly to protect you, whether it be from the sword or even from little things—like cruel words and things that frighten you; who is patient and certain in his own strengths and abilities, and does not need to prove to any man or woman that he is better than they are.”
― Elizabeth D. Marie, Seeking Giants

“Preserve the spirit of a ‘lost’ age, when time moved slower.”
― Fennel Hudson, Traditional Angling: Fennel's Journal No. 6

“Things used to be so much easier.”
― Jordan Hoechlin

“A traditionalist’s values are gleaned from all that is good in the past.”
― Fennel Hudson, Traditional Angling: Fennel's Journal No. 6

“With the heady scent of yeast in the air, it quickly becomes clear that Langer's hasn't changed at all. The black-and-white-checked linoleum floor, the tin ceiling, the heavy brass cash register, all still here. The curved-front glass cases with their wood counter, filled with the same offerings: the butter cookies of various shapes and toppings, four kinds of rugelach, mandel bread, black-and-white cookies, and brilliant-yellow smiley face cookies. Cupcakes, chocolate or vanilla, with either chocolate or vanilla frosting piled on thick. Brownies, with or without nuts. Cheesecake squares. Coconut macaroons. Four kinds of Danish. The foil loaf pans of the bread pudding made from the day-old challahs. And on the glass shelves behind the counter, the breads. Challahs, round with raisins and braided either plain or with sesame. Rye, with and without caraway seeds. Onion kuchen, sort of strange almost-pizza-like bread that my dad loves, and the smaller, puffier onion rolls that I prefer. Cloverleaf rolls. Babkas. The wood-topped cafe tables with their white chairs, still filled with the little gossipy ladies from the neighborhood, who come in for their mandel bread and rugelach, for their Friday challah and Sunday babka, and take a moment to share a Danish or apple dumpling and brag about grandchildren.”
― Stacey Ballis, Wedding Girl

“A hot dry day was perfect for cutting hay, but Sunday in those days was a true day of rest, and no hay would be taken from the fields, nor any labour done inside or outside of the house.”
― Arlene Stafford-Wilson, Lanark County Collection: Winding Our Way Down Memory Lane

“He had this in common with Oedipus, that he was growing old. Even to himself it had become obvious. He had lost interest in other people’s affairs, and seldom attended when they spoke to him. He was fond of talking himself but often forgot what he was going to say, and even when he succeeded, it seldom seemed worth the effort. His phrases and gestures had become stiff and set, his anecdotes, once so successful, fell flat, his silence was as meaningless as his speech. Yet he had led a healthy, active life, had worked steadily, made money, educated his children. There was nothing and no one to blame: he was simply growing old.”
― E.M. Forster, The Celestial Omnibus and other Stories

“It was hard to imagine wearing lace underwear and 'sexting,' but easy to imagine wearing lots of complicated layers and rolling around in front of a fireplace.”
― Emma Törzs, Ink Blood Sister Scribe

“Is the princess still in the fitting room?"
"Oh no, darling. She appeared about half an hour ago. Poured herself a black coffee, and looked longingly at the cakes. That child is starving herself if you ask me. Now she's definitely too thin. European men do like a woman to have a little meat on her bones."
"And Prince Nicolas, have you seen him recently?"
"I haven't seen him since lunch. I gather he and Antone went out to shoot. And I expect Max went with them. They're only happy when they're shooting something. Apart from sex of course."
"Mother!" I gave her a warning frown. My mother glanced around at the other women, who were tucking into their tort with abandon.
"They won't understand. Their English is hopeless, darling. Besides, it is about time you are acquainted with the facts of life. I've hopelessly neglected my duty in that area. Men only have two thoughts in their heads. And those are killing or copulating."
"I'm sure there are plenty of men with finer feelings who are interested in art and culture."
"Yes, darling. Of course there are. They are called ferries. And they are quite adorable. So witty and fun to be with. But in my long and varied life I've found that the ones who are witty to be with are no use in bed. And vice versa.”
― Rhys Bowen, Royal Blood

“Those with traditional sense will follow what their heart tells them is right.”
― Fennel Hudson, Traditional Angling: Fennel's Journal No. 6

“Be batty, be traditional, and be proud.”
― Fennel Hudson, Traditional Angling: Fennel's Journal No. 6

“Open the windows wide some more;
For sake of the innovatory thoughtfulness
Close the doors for white-haired ideas;
Encumbered the dark hairs, wholly
From investment of the hybrid thoughts”
― Zakir Malik, The Wail Of The Woods

“The cab pulled up to our building on St. Louis between Decatur and Chartres Streets, a three-story cement stucco town house in the old creole style. It was painted pale pink and covered with delicate ironwork like a lace veil. It had an arched opening with a wrought-iron gate and an old metal lock.
Inside, the ground-floor hallway had high, rounded ceilings and a dark caramel tiled floor leading to a garden in the back. It was drippy and heavy with the scent of jasmine, just like me.
Wisteria rolled down from the top-floor balconies all the way to the garden below and curled around the legs of the iron tables and chairs like beautiful prison shackles. Everything about the building looked like it was from another century, and having never been to New Orleans I did not yet know that everything was.”
― Margot Berwin, Scent of Darkness

“She sipped her old-fashioned. Sweet and light, with notes of orange and the herb-spice flavor of bitters, all of it balanced with the subtle burn of brandy. It tasted like Wisconsin. It tasted like home.”
― Amy E. Reichert, The Kindred Spirits Supper Club

“Good Lord!" Henry Fairhurst did not often permit himself the use of strong language of this sort, but he felt that this was a privileged occasion.”
― John Rowland, Murder in the Museum

“It was a ticklish job chasing a man in these conditions, but Shelley had undertaken many ticklish jobs in his time, and he was quite prepared to do his best with this one.”
― John Rowland, Murder in the Museum

“Honor He Wrote Sonnet 41

Don't worship your past,
At the expense of your present.
Don't glorify the future,
At the expense of the present.
Don't worship the dead,
At the expense of the living.
Don't admire the unborn,
While overlooking the living.
It's only by lifting the living that,
We build a better world for all progeny.
It's only by being kind to the living,
That we truly honor our ancestry.
Honor is earned not begged for.
Honor the living, ‘n all time will be grateful.”
― Abhijit Naskar, Honor He Wrote: 100 Sonnets For Humans Not Vegetables

“Living in the midst of a world where there was a plethora of the new I attached myself to the old.”
― Henry Miller, Tropic of Cancer and Tropic of Capricorn: Boxed Set

“Nobody can get across now! We'll have to stay here days and days, and we've got nothing to eat, and we'll freeze to death at night, and I didn't even tell my dad I was coming here, and I'll get a whipping when I get home!"

Tom smiled thinly and tried to make a joke out of it. "I thought you were going to freeze to death," he said.”
― H. Maxwell Butcher, Rescue at Harper's Landing

“Dozens of shiny brass wall sconces created the sort of dim and atmospheric lighting I'd only ever seen in old movies and haunted houses. And the room wasn't just darkly lit. It was also just... dark. The walls were painted a dark chocolate brown that I vaguely remembered from art history classes had been fashionable in the Victorian era. A pair of tall, dark wooden bookshelves that must have weighed a thousand pounds each stood like silent sentinels on either end of the room. Atop each of them sat an ornate brass, malachite candelabra that would have seemed right at home in a sixteenth-century European cathedral. They clashed in style and in every other imaginable way with the two very modern-looking black leather sofas facing each other in the center of the room and the austere, glass-topped coffee table in the living room's center. The latter had a stack of what looked like Regency romance novels piled high at one end, further adding to the incongruity of the scene.
Besides the pale green of the candelabras, the only other color to be found in the living room was in the large, garish, floral Oriental rug covering most of the floor; the bright red, glowing eyes of a deeply creepy stuffed wolf's head hanging over the mantel; and the deep-red velvet drapes hanging on either side of the floor-to-ceiling windows.”
― Jenna Levine, My Roommate Is a Vampire

“Having savings is an old-fashioned idea from a past era of low inflation and high bank interest rates.”
― Steven Magee

“Old customs are not meant to make us old.”
― Tamerlan Kuzgov

“Two months later, Gail brought Bill home to meet her parents, and Beryl, a nervous mama having heard so much about the gallant Navy boy, served up her best pot roast with onions, a heap of buttery mashed potatoes with Gail’s favorite gravy, and boiled carrots for Sunday dinner. Before dinner was served, they sat on the porch and made homemade ice cream together. Gail sat on the ice cream bucket while Bill churned—abiding the flirting of Baby Lou and worldly Laila, though married with a baby.
The Navy boy couldn’t care less about the two sisters because he was busy pouring ice cubes and salt into the bucket, soon hidden again under Gail’s skirt.
Coalbert, the working boy, accompanied by his cute girlfriend, Ivy, wasn’t going to be outdone by a crew cut. He started making pig squeals and then said, “Come on, piggy, I wanna kiss you!” This was the story that humiliated Gail the most. She hated when Coalbert told stories from their Arkansas childhood.
“What’s with him?” Bill looked at Gail.
Coalbert took over and explained how Gail had fallen in love with the baby pigs they had bought to ward off starvation in Western Grove. “She’d run chasing them through the mud and shit, ‘Come on, piggy, I wanna kiss you!’”
Gail got off the ice cream bucket and walked into the house. Bill laughed and stayed on the porch with Coalbert and the sisters, shooting the breeze and catching up with stories to embarrass Gail.”
― Lynn Byk, The Fearless Moral Inventory of Elsie Finch