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She smiled. He’d joked once that he feared her gown might be contagious, but it was her smile that was catching. It caught him now. He felt hooked by it, no desire to do anything except smile back at her.
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If a man ever lets you know that he sees marriage as a trap, and women as nothing but scheming connivers, you are by no means to marry him. Any man that sees your entire sex in so harsh a light has nothing to offer you.
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Under any other circumstances, he’d have found himself stealing glances all evening. But looking at her was like picking up a luxurious peach and discovering it half taken over by mold.
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If people did not fear me so, how could anyone tolerate me?
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I’m sure your prick is as massive as your head is thick.
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All trace of the woman he had seen had vanished, leaving behind a shadow with perfect posture and no conversation. She was right. Everyone would wonder if he flirted with her. He wouldn’t even know how to manage it. One couldn’t flirt with a lump.
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"Lots of people live on farms,” Violetta added. “Many of them don’t die, I’ve heard.
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She walked away from him with swift, sure strides, as if she knew her destination. As if it had nothing to do with him.
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Anything is bearable if you can fight it, but if you must sit back and take it… That breaks you in a way I can’t explain.”
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There is no such thing as a fallen woman - you just need to look for the man who pushed her.
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She wagged a finger at him. “You’re mispronouncing that word.” “Your pardon?” He groped, trying to remember what he’d said. “Suffragette? How does one pronounce it, then?” “Suffragette,” she said, “is pronounced with an exclamation point at the end. Like this: ‘Huzzah! Suffragettes!
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I want solutions, not excuses. Whine to your shrink.
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Here’s the thing: Admitting I’m flirting is a big step for me. I don’t want to be ignored. It hurts, like I’m being told that it’s just me. That I’m flirting, and he’s just handing out equations.
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She was nothing. He had everything. And for what little it was worth, he was embarrassed by his own strength.
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“Ah, the rule that says that women aren’t allowed to be intelligent.” He brushed a kiss against her forehead. “Burn that one to the ground, Violet, and dance on the ashes. And damn anyone who tells you it’s selfish to do so.
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For everyone who has carried water in thimbles and teaspoons throughout the centuries. And for all those who continue to do so. For as many centuries as it takes.
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THERE WERE THREE SKILLS that Miss Emily Fairfield had found necessary in her current position in life: lying, smuggling, and - most important of all - scaling walls. It was the last she’d put to use at the moment.
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Sometimes I wish that this quest had not come to me. Justice is an impossible beast to track. The trail is lonely, and she offers no reward when she's caught but the promise of another hunt.
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Everything comes easily to Sebastian, don't you know? He drifts because of it - drifts from person to person, thing to thing, gadding about like a butterfly.
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I’m going to explode,” she muttered. “Into a cloud of dust and despair.
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In this world, you’re either playing the game or you’re a pawn on the board.
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I knew the instant Margaret spoke that she intended to use me as a weapon. What you fail to understand is this: I am her weapon to use.
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God gave one sisters to teach one to love the inexplicable.
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If eyes were windows to the soul, hers had been bricked up to avoid taxation.