“And Jasmine, royal princess and daughter of the sultan..." the little old religious man trailed off, confused. "I'm sorry, daughter. I don't remember all of your names. Rose of Agrabah? Twice Great-Granddaughter of Elisheba the Wise?" "I think it was… — Liz Braswell Copy Share Image
“It wasn’t just one charmante,” Belle said slowly. “It was…dozens. It was like…they were helping all of them…escape….That’s why there were all of those… — Liz Braswell Copy Share Image
“So, Royal Princess- excuse me, Sultana Jasmine- coming to admire your soon-to-be kingdom?" he said with a smile. "Yes, I want to make some changes. I think it could use a few more lights," she said, finger to her chin in contemplation. "Torches there, there, and there. And maybe a different shade of white this time. More 'eggshell' or 'moon.'… — Liz Braswell Copy Share
“In adventure books there weren't awkward pauses or embarrassing social scenes. In morality plays and farces there were rarely serious discussions of racial tension, mob mentality, pogroms, or plague. In scientific books there were no dinnertime revelations of a terrible matter. Life is a strange mix of all these genres... and it doesn't have nearly as neat and happy ending… — Liz Braswell Copy Share
“Your generation has no sense of responsibility to a group, a calling higher than your own. You treat random friends like family and family… — Liz Braswell Copy Share Image
“Books were so simple about these things, fairy tales so straightforward! There were peasants, and then there were kings and queens. Sometimes there were people who made shoes or were soldiers. Occasionally there was priest supported by the church. But that was all; all the types of professions, all the different economic classes of people. Maybe, like hair color, wealth… — Liz Braswell Copy Share
“When other children dreamed of mansions with fountains and big silky beds and servants to do their bidding, this was what Belle dreamed about.… — Liz Braswell Copy Share Image
“When you're young, you think the world will make room for who you are and what you want… And then you find the world… — Liz Braswell Copy Share Image
“Perhaps, if you explain to the judge, he will be lenient. He will... weigh your circumstances. But that is his job. Mine is to… — Liz Braswell Copy Share Image
“Maurice,” she croaked one last time, as loudly as she could. His eyes widened. “Rosalind?” he murmured. Then his face went red in a… — Liz Braswell Copy Share Image
“Spread over what must have been at least a hectare or two was the most beautiful garden he had ever seen. There was an entire miniature forest of cedar, cypress, and other sweet-smelling pines that couldn't normally live in the hot and dry Agrabah. There were formal rows of roses and other delicately petaled flowers. There was a garden just… — Liz Braswell Copy Share
“I don't speak well as the pictures in my head do. I can't... fully... the possibilities... It's too much to explain all at once.… — Liz Braswell Copy Share Image
“She walked to the doorway and looked up at the sky; even with the dust she could see Hormozd, the large red planet, just beginning to sink behind the mountains. On the other side of the sky, the heavens were a shade lighter than they had been just a while ago. The sun was preparing to rise. "I will do… — Liz Braswell Copy Share
