Why does anyone write anything? To make known and to be known.
Her voice sounding young and nearly giddy in her ears, she asked, “Are you certain, sir, you ought to kiss a housemaid?” No answering chuckle. “I have never been more certain of anything in my life,” he whispered, his breath tickling her upper lip with each syllable.
I am glad you came to Fairbourne Hall.” She glanced at him, uncertain. “Are you?” “Yes,” he said, mouth quirked in a lopsided grin. “We needed a new maid.” He leaned in for another kiss.
Did you tell her?” “Tell her what?” “That you love her?
How foolish was the fox. How blind. To not see, not value the friendship, the affection, the trust the brown bird offered him.
Yet never have I longed to kiss any woman’s hands as I long to kiss these.
Flogging will continue until morale improves.
What do you suppose it means, Hudson, when I dream of a beautiful blond lady and awaken to find a long blond hair in my bed?” Hudson chuckled. “My goodness, sir. What vivid dreams you must have!” “You have no idea.
He says if we are all very good, and pray hard, Mother will get better. Do you think it true?” “It’s certainly not fair.” “Fair?” “For your father to put that responsibility on you. Forgive me, I mean no disrespect, but do you really think God works that way? If we do the things we ought, He’ll preserve those we hold dear, but if we forget or neglect our duty, He’ll bring down calamity upon us and those we love?
A portrait is like an ornamental headstone. It is not for the subject, but for those who look upon it. For those you want to remember.
And what did you never get to do, Emma Smallwood?” he asked lightly, brushing the tears from her face. “Nothing that really matters, in hindsight.” She shrugged. “Though I would have liked to travel. And perhaps encourage Aunt Jane to live her life. Live enough for the both of us.” “No ordinary dreams? Of marriage, perhaps? A family?” She ducked her head. “Perhaps.” Tears filled her eyes once more. He cupped her face in both of his hands and kissed her again.
Whenever you give any living creature cause to depend on you, be careful on no account to disappoint it.
Henry would like to make Emma Smallwood smile like that. He would have to make it his aim next time they were together.
You are so appealing, Miss Foster, every bit as beautiful as your sister – more so, to me – that I almost lost my head. I want nothing more than to let this romantic current sweep us along.
Mr. DuPont mused aloud, “Why is it, Captain, that we only appreciate what we have after it is gone? If only the thought of losing something or someone would cause us to value it while it’s right under our nose.
Twelfth Night, or the eve of Epiphany, marked the coming of the magi. This year, instead of the usual masquerade ball, costumes, and revelry, the Brockwells’Twelfth Night party became more of a celebration of not one but two engagements:.
That is not how love works. It is not blind to faults, nor must it accept the wrongdoing of those dear to us.
God seemed silent and forgiveness not forthcoming.
I find we often worry too much about how people see us. When the truth is, everyone else is more worried about how we view them.
This is how love should be, Mariah thought. Two honest people, forthright in their intentions, loving and protecting one another.
You’re right. You don’t deserve it. Love and forgiveness are not something you earn. They are gifts. My, my, have I neglected your education so terribly? My dear boy, none of us can do enough good deeds to atone for our own failings. If we could, God would not have had to send the Son He loved into the world to die for us.