“What if," replied Inspector Fry in the same maddeningly curteous tone, "we were all to construct daisy chains and drape them so as to… — Lyndsay Faye Copy Share Image
“I looked up in curiosity. Behind us stood the Brown and Eagle Wool Warehouse and Schneider's Cap Factory, both constructed with that wholehearted devotion… — Lyndsay Faye Copy Share Image
“I have given up attempting to plumb the depths of the female psyche, Watson. It is not unlike contemplating infinity--a worthy, even a spiritual… — Lyndsay Faye Copy Share Image
“Besides, Watson,” he added, with a glint of humour in his grey eyes, “you, after all, are a man of the world. We must… — Lyndsay Faye Copy Share Image
“As he passed a hand over his eyes, I recalled the he could not have slept more than twenty hours in the last seven… — Lyndsay Faye Copy Share Image
“More accurately, on the bed and on the table lay various pieces of what had once been a body. Holmes was leaning with his back against the wall, his countenance deathly white. "The door was open," he said incongruously. "I was passing by, and the door was open." "Holmes," I whispered in horror. "The door was open," he said once… — Lyndsay Faye Copy Share
“Never have I seen a deadlier-looking collection of firemen, street brawlers, Party thugs, and fighting entrepreneurs in my life, and they made Chief Matsell's hiring practices pretty clear. If you were loyal to the Party or maybe even a good watchman, you could wear a copper star. If you looked like you've killed a man with your bare hands and… — Lyndsay Faye Copy Share
“Charles says that he does not care what sort of Jane I am so long as I am his Jane; Sardar says that he does not care what sort of Jane I am so long as I am my own Jane; Sahjara says that she does not care what sort of Jane I am so long as she is my… — Lyndsay Faye Copy Share
“If Mercy Underhill were any more perfect, it would take a long day's work to fall in love with her. But she has exactly… — Lyndsay Faye Copy Share Image
“I hope that the epitaph of the human race when the world ends will be: Here perished a species which lived to tell stories. We tell stories to strangers to ingratiate ourselves, stories to lovers to better adhere us skin to skin, stories in our heads to banish the demons. When we tell the truth, often we are callous; when… — Lyndsay Faye Copy Share
“And here you are, another practical sort - neither Catholic nor Protestant, nor wicked, I think. Let us pray that you are not one… — Lyndsay Faye Copy Share Image
