Soap Quotes

“No short-haired, yellow-bellied, son of tricky dicky
Is gonna mother hubbard soft soap me
With just a pocketful of soap.”
― John Lennon

“You love me. You ignore me. You save my life, then you cook my mother into soap.”
― Chuck Palahniuk, Fight Club

“So, did you hold back during that test?"
"Maybe a little," Sophronia admitted.
Soap grinned. "That's my girl."
Sophronia glared at him. He was getting familiar.
"You are, miss." He continued to grin.
"I'm my own girl, thank you very much.”
― Gail Carriger, Curtsies & Conspiracies

“All we can hope for is that he will fall into the ocean with a bar of soap in his pocket.”
― Eoin Colfer, Airman

“We like the shadows. That's where all the power is.”
― Gail Carriger, Manners & Mutiny

“Blake looked around and gulped. He'd forgotten about the mess on the floor. Chamber pot shards, his
shaving kit, a towel or two...
"I... ah..." It seemed to him that it was far easier
to lie for the sake of national security than it was to his
older sister.
"Is that a bar of soap stuck to the wall?" Penelope asked.
"Um... yes, it appears to be.”
― Julia Quinn, To Catch an Heiress

“Trust is a lot to ask of someone.”
― Gail Carriger, Manners & Mutiny

“I knew this would happen," Marla says. "You're such a flake. You love me. You ignore me. You save my life, then you cook my mother into soap.”
― Chuck Palahniuk, Fight Club

“Truth is worse than soap in the eyes.”
― Suzanne Palmieri, The Witch of Belladonna Bay

“The bunk was a long, rectangular building. Inside, the walls were whitewashed and the floor unpainted. In three walls there were small, square windows, and in the fourth a solid door with a wooden latch. Against the walls were eight bunks, five of them made up with blankets and the other three showing their burlap ticking. Over each bunk there was nailed an apple-box with the opening forward so that it made two shelves for the personal belongings of the occupant of the bunk. And these shelves were loaded with little articles, soap and talcum-powder, razors and those Western magazines ranch-men love to read and scoff at and secretly believe. And there were medicines on the shelves, and little vials, combs; and, from nails on the box-sides, a few neck-ties. Near one wall there was a black cast-iron stove, its stove-pipe going straight up through the ceiling. In the middle of the room stood a big square table littered with playing-cards, and around it were grouped boxes for the players to sit on.”
― John Steinbeck , Of Mice and Men

“She's my pride, my winning prize, always a surprise, to look into her eyes, see her free soul, as soap that slips from the grip of control; a stroll through the park on a dark night with stars to spark the sky, heaven with no price tag I realize, love is the same: endless, priceless, full bliss; to have this princess I pinch myself thinking this is a dream, but to my reprise, I can only say I am now, at last, alive.”
― Anthony Liccione

“I hate when I'm not done with my cup but my mom decides to put it in the dishwasher anyway and the cup isn't dishwasher safe. I keep telling my mom that my origami coffee mugs are hand wash ONLY. Handshakes are also hand wash only.
-Karen Quan and Jarod Kintz”
― Karen Quan, liQUID PROse QUOtes

“Gasoline-scented soap is a great idea that’s a terrible idea. Plus, if I made soap that smelled like petroleum, The US Military would invade my shower and kill me.”
― Jarod Kintz, There are Two Typos of People in This World: Those Who Can Edit and Those Who Can't

“Their friendship sometimes struck Frances as being like a piece of soap-like a piece of ancient kitchen soap that had got worn to the shape of her hand, but which had been dropped to the floor so many times it was never quite free of its bits of cinder.”
― Sarah Waters, The Paying Guests

“Сравниться с ПХД может только наряд на кухню, но там все сразу обожрутся — дышать плохо, ходить того хуже, и уже трудовая страда не в радость. А трудовая — она страда, потому что на ПХД работают все без исключения. Ну, неодинаково, конечно. Одни перетаскивают кровати и моют пол, другие перетаскивают то же самое и носят первым воду, третьи подметают и крошат мыло, четвёртые — тоже крошат мыло рядом с третьими, но с ними не подметают, пятые — всеми командуют и всем показывают, как делать. Ну, шестые командуют пятыми. Ну, пускай седьмые дают общие указания шестым, сверху, так сказать. Но даже те, кто лишь пьёт в каптёрке чиф, помнят о ПХД. Пьют и помнят. Никто не остаётся совершенно в стороне.”
― Андрей Ильенков, Несгибаемая рота, или Сны полка

“After Twiss went out the barn, Milly went up to their bedroom with the brown paper bag. She looked out the window before she turned it upside down and the bars of lavender soap shaped like seashells and the card shaped like a rectangle came tumbling out. Asa's name graced the front of the card. A note graced the back.

'I know why you did it, Milly. Bella swings a golf club just like him.'

Milly sat a long time on her old twin mattress, staring at the fleur-de-lis carved into the headboard, at the life that didn't belong to her and the life that did, before she placed the soaps beneath the velvet tray in her jewelry box and closed it. She never washed her hands with a single one of the seashell-shaped soaps, although from time to time, when Twiss had gone for a walk or to the barn, she'd open her jewelry box and examine her only secret.
'La joie de vivre.' The scent of lavender. Forgiveness. Age-old love.”
― Rebecca Rasmussen, The Bird Sisters

“She picked through the bits of jewelry, the stud earrings and ruby ring that belonged to their mother, Shirin. There was something almost meditative about this ritual of hers, combing through the photos and small keepsakes, even if she touched on some painful memories. It was as if her fingers were actually tracing the milestones each piece represented.
Her hand closed on a smooth, round object, something resembling a marble egg. It was a miniature bar of lotus soap, still in its wrapper, bought on their last trip to the 'hammam'. The public bathhouse had been a favorite spot of theirs, a place the three of them liked to go to on Thursdays, the day before the Iranian weekend.
Marjan held the soap to her nose. She took a deep breath, inhaling the downy scent of mornings spent washing and scrubbing with rosewater and lotus products. All at once she heard the laughter once again, the giggles of women making the bathing ritual a party more than anything else. The 'hammam' they had attended those last years in Iran was situated near their apartment in central Tehran. Although not as palatial as the turquoise and golden-domed bathhouse of their childhood, it was still a grand building of hot pools and steamy balconies, a place of gossip and laughter.
The women of the neighborhood would gather there weekly to untangle their long hair with tortoiseshell combs and lotus powder, a silky conditioner that left locks gleaming like onyx uncovered. For pocket change, a 'dalak' could be hired by the hour. These bathhouse attendants, matronly and humorous for all their years spent whispering local chatter, would scrub at tired limbs with loofahs and mitts of woven Caspian seaweed. Massages and palm readings accompanied platters of watermelon and hot jasmine tea, the afternoons whiled away with naps and dips in the perfumed aqueducts regulated according to their hot and cold properties.”
― Marsha Mehran, Rosewater and Soda Bread

“Mr. Cuddleswithbubbles just asked me if I could make a soapy duck soup that’s scented like a Boxcar Willie song, to capture that classic 1991 Branson nostalgia. I’ll try, but I’m not sure if I have that much cactus extract.”
― Jarod Kintz, Music is fluid, and my saxophone overflows when my ducks slosh in the sounds I make in elevators.

“Everyone loves the smell of gasoline, but do you think it would make a good scent in a soap?

Gasoline-scented soap is a great idea that’s a terrible idea. Plus, if I made soap that smelled like petroleum, The US Military would invade my shower and kill me.”
― Jarod Kintz, 94,000 Wasps in a Trench Coat

“Well, there are the letter I deliver to the monks, and other things, too: tea and dishwashing soap, paraffin candles, tins of powered Ovaltine...”
― Christine Brodien-Jones, The Glass Puzzle

“The Scarehouse is like Turkey Soap. The Girl House is better as a film!”
― Deyth Banger

“Off this fucking predictable soap opera, this will happen now, then that, then that and you say that you are christian and you start watching series of Turkey people which believe in a very different god so far god of hell - Allah...”
― Deyth Banger

“Forget your troubles! Try these bubbles! You can’t say nope to extraordinary soap!”
― Amber McRee Turner, Sway

“Her hand closed on a smooth, round object, something resembling a marble egg. It was a miniature bar of lotus soap, still in its wrapper, bought on their last trip to the 'hammam'. The public bathhouse had been a favorite spot of theirs, a place the three of them liked to go to on Thursdays, the day before the Iranian weekend.
Marian held the soap to her nose. She took a deep breath, inhaling the downy scent of mornings spent washing and scrubbing with rosewater and lotus products. All at once she heard the laughter once again, the giggles of women making the bathing ritual a party more than anything else. The 'hammam' they had attended those last years in Iran was situated near their apartment in central Tehran. Although not as palatial as the turquoise and golden-domed bathhouse of their childhood, it was still a grand building of hot pools and steamy balconies, a place of gossip and laughter.
The women of the neighborhood would gather there weekly to untangle their long hair with tortoiseshell combs and lotus powder, a silky conditioner that left locks gleaming like onyx uncovered. For pocket change, a 'dalak' could be hired by the hour. These bathhouse attendants, matronly and humorous for all their years spent whispering local chatter, would scrub at tired limbs with loofahs and mitts of woven Caspian seaweed. Massages and palm readings accompanied platters of watermelon and hot jasmine tea, the afternoons whiled away with naps and dips in the perfumed aqueducts regulated according to their hot and cold properties.”
― Marsha Mehran, Rosewater and Soda Bread

“Soap never clean the stain of sin.
Only the blood of the blameless Lamb, the Lord Jesus Christ can wash the stain of sin to be made as white as snow.”
― Lailah Gifty Akita

“Different skin types require different types of cleanser, but there is one common cleanser nobody should ever use: common bar soap. Soap often contains a drying surfactant called sodium lauryl sulfate, which can leave a film on your skin that feels uncomfortable, strip it of essential oils, and deplete moisture. Even worse, drying your skin can increase the appearance of wrinkles.”
― Anthony Youn, The Age Fix: A Leading Plastic Surgeon Reveals How to Really Look 10 Years Younger

“Remember, Soap Cleans, Sanitizer Prevents.”
― Conagher Bluhm

“As far as I'm concerned, taking a bath is sort of like drowning, with soap.”
― Rodman Philbrick, The Mostly True Adventures of Homer P. Figg