“To recount these histories is like unravelling a thread: one means only to tell one little part, but then another comes in, and another, for they are all part of the same garment — Tudor, Lancaster, York, Plantagenet.” — Margaret George Copy Share Image
“Looking out the rain-fogged window at the gray November day, Mary felt almost grateful for the snug warmth of her well-heated chamber. Escape, the… — Margaret George Copy Share Image
We are more than our bodies, it is true; but we cannot be divorced from them. They are us, and the only way in… — Margaret George Copy Share Image
“I realized then how odd it must seem to them to be summoned by a woman. Roman women were at home quietly minding their… — Margaret George Copy Share Image
Mary awoke from her nightmare with a pounding heart, convinced that she had only imagined Elizabeth's cruel plot. A full moon was shining into… — Margaret George Copy Share Image
“Mary was like a caged tiger in the first days of her captivity. Keen, alert, and watchful, she listened tensely each dawn for the… — Margaret George Copy Share Image
Now I felt the long-forgotten urgency of lovemaking, when it seems one's human selves leave, to be replaced by hungry beasts bolting their food.… — Margaret George Copy Share Image
“Life as a whole is not happy. Only moments. This is my moment. It will pass.” — Margaret George Copy Share Image
“Mary fell asleep early, but her dreams were most unpleasant. She was a mouse running across the kitchen floor, and Elizabeth was a sharp-clawed… — Margaret George Copy Share Image
“But marrying within one's own family can get monotonous. One has heard all the same family stories, knows all the jokes and all the… — Margaret George Copy Share Image
To love someone is to catch your breath whenever he walks in the room. — Margaret George Copy Share Image
