I suppose we all tend to want the impossible. And sometimes in attempting it we achieve something near enough to the impossible to elicit satisfaction.
He would ask nothing else from life if he would be allowed to protect and cherish her for the rest of his.
But love, real love, the kind that you fall in, isn’t like Corinthians. The “suffereth long” and “is kind” nonsense. It’s like the Song of Solomon. It’s jealousy and fire and floods. It’s everything that consumes.” – Lady Fennimore.
It isn’t a weakness to accept kindness. It isn’t a weakness to allow yourself to be cared for.
It’s just a part of her life. Sewing her world back together again, sometimes even daily.
Oh, God. She’d now have to invent a bawdy verse on the spot. She’d never had to improvise so much in her entire life as she had in the last five minutes. Improvise being another word for lie, of course.
When Phoebe glanced back at the marquess he swiftly lifted that rogue lock of hair, pointed at his forehead and mouthed: Good aim. She clapped a hand over her mouth. Dear God, he was sporting a bruise! So that’s where she’d clocked him with his hat! And this explained the forelock.
We think we’re so clever. And yet we’re always surprised to find ourselves entrapped or made fools of.
Gentleness was sometimes perilously close to pity.
Plain girls who were also clever were a ha’pence a dozen.
There are those who think beauty is a thing of surface, and forget that it’s really of the soul. But good is something you are, not something you do. – Vicar Adam Sylvaine.