Courtney Milan Quotes
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But to call it looking was like calling an eighteen-course feast a snack.
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"Maybe that’s what I have been looking for. When storms and rockslides threaten, I am looking for someone who will hold on to me and not let go.” He was talking about friendship, but the way he looked at her… She would crackle like fire if he touched her.
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She looked like a woman talking about astronomical parallax, and that made her brilliantly beautiful.
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“Oh, dear.” Free looked down, fluttering her eyelashes demurely. “Is my punctuation showing once more?
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It would be like loving the ocean, but wishing it would change into a glass of water.
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He was nothing but a deep abyss of want, and only she could fill him. He didn’t want to turn at the sound of her voice. If he simply stared into the hydrangea for long enough…then he would be a coward. He turned to face the woman who could bring him to his knees.
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Some servent with no sense of the symbolic had kept the hinges well-oiled during the years of his absence, as if their marital life had merely been cast into temporary abeyance.
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You really shouldn’t blame men for everything.” “No, just the ninety-eight percent of society’s ills they’re responsible for.
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But the Duke of Clermont was smiling and cheerful, and he’d thrown it out there as if it were merely one more fact to be recounted. The weather is lovely. The streets are paved with cobblestone. Your tits are magnificent.
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"Family isn’t a matter of history. Or biology,” he said softly. “It’s a matter of choice.”
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“Violet,” he said. “How could I say I loved you and expect you to do something you didn’t want?
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She felt like a juggler tossing torches into the air. The circus-master kept throwing more in. Sooner or later, one would fall, and the life she'd built would burn to cinders.
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If eyes were windows to the soul, hers had been bricked up to avoid taxation.
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The Bible got it wrong when it intimated that the valley contained the shadow of death. Death dwells in the high places.
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If it must be done, it's best done bravely.
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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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God gave one sisters to teach one to love the inexplicable.
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Miss Marshall spent her life daring those more powerful than her to swat her down. The hell of it was, her determination was some kind of contagion. He could feel it infecting him, making him believe. Making him tell himself lies like 'I could do some good' and 'I want her forever'.
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He was 'susceptible' to her. If he wasn't careful, he might end up nursing a full-blown interest.
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An unreadable response was heaps better than an unprintable one.
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Friendship was a concept men bandied about to save face when they were rejected.
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He couldn't bring himself to look directly at her. Her gown was the color of daylight just before sunset; if he looked at her too long, he feared he might be left blind once she was gone.
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“Jessica," he said gravely. "I will be your champion, if you let me. If I have to take on the role of knight, I want to be yours. Let me be your protector.
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You see, I'm not some shiny bauble to be strung onto a necklace and displayed for all the world to see. I'm too proud to ever be anyone's conquest.