By the time we left college, I had become my own image: a dandelion in the flower bed of society. Kinda cute, but still a weed. — Anne Fortier Copy Share Image
Romeo was cute …” “Cute?” Alessandro rolled his eyes. “What kind of man is cute?” “… and an excellent dancer …” “Romeo had feet of lead! He said so himself!” “… but most importantly,” I concluded, “he had nice hands! — Anne Fortier Copy Share Image
“Shush!” said Ambrogio to the dog, “I advise you to hide, in case it is the horned one trying to get in. I know… — Anne Fortier Copy Share Image
Think about it. He drinks poison. What kind of man drinks poison? She is the one who stabs herself with his dagger. The manly… — Anne Fortier Copy Share Image
I’ll be back tomorrow,” he said, “at nine o’clock. Don’t open your door to anyone else.” “Not even my balcony door?” “Especially not your… — Anne Fortier Copy Share Image
...it is fifty percent what they see, and fifty percent what they think they see. — Anne Fortier Copy Share Image
In many ways, a degree in the history of ideas is the ideal training for an aspiring writer. — Anne Fortier Copy Share Image
Verona is a very beautiful city, but Siena just never ceases to fascinate me. — Anne Fortier Copy Share Image
“Juliet by Ann Fortier. The Maestro (Chapter5) ... the slight nausea he was feeling must be somewhat near what God was feeling every minute… — Anne Fortier Copy Share Image
Janice used to say that instinct was reason in a hurry; I was not so sure about the reason part. — Anne Fortier Copy Share Image
“There are some things," he said softly, "that a princess has to do alone.” — Anne Fortier Copy Share Image
“Happiness is the worst threat to my business. Dreams are what it's all about. Frustrations. Fantasies that never come true.” — Anne Fortier Copy Share Image
