I will not be browbeaten, however nicely you do it. I am done with things happening to me. From here on out, I am going to happen to things.
You’re perfectly right. There’s no two ways about it. When you leave, it will slay me.
I only said I would stop talking to you, he’d written. I never promised to stop loving you.
This is why people are so hard to understand. I cannot even estimate their gravitational pull.
He was nothing but a deep abyss of want, and only she could fill him.
A life without risk is one where I tell myself I’m not worthy of taking a chance.
If you were a shadowy, anonymous figure, it made sense to pretend everything had gone according to some diabolical plan. Never mind if it hadn’t.
Perhaps God gave one sisters to teach one to love the inexplicable.
I am small,” she said, “but mighty.
The vicar gave him permission and he kissed her – not hard, for lust, nor long, for love, but a light brush of his lips for the brief space of time that she would stay in his life.
I think we may have started this conversation off on the wrong foot,” Robert said finally. In fact, if the conversation had been animate, the merciful thing to do would have been to take it out behind the barn and shoot it.
She walked away from him with swift, sure strides, as if she knew her destination. As if it had nothing to do with him.
That memory was a knife that kept on cutting.
Is it a thorny question of ethics? Or is it the sort of ethical question where the right choice is easy, but the unethical answer is too tempting?
The Countess of Cambury is like a deep, dark hole – secrets go in, but none of them ever come out.” “Sebastian,” Violet replied, calmly looping the yarn about one of her needles, “it is neither proper nor respectful to let a woman know that you think of her as nothing more than a hole.