“The soft strings of the lute rippled with memories, and the maid's lilting voice made Mary sigh as she closed her eyes. She fell asleep filled with sadness, but without regret.” — Margaret George Copy Share Image
I was ever the realist, sometimes to my sorrow. But seldom to my regret. — 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
