Old books exert a strange fascination for me -- their smell, their feel, their history; wondering who might have owned them, how they lived, what they felt. — Lauren Willig Copy Share Image
“This was what the poets couldn't put in their poetry, she thought dumbly, the rush of desire so fierce and pure it made one… — Lauren Willig Copy Share Image
It was lovely to see cynicism in one so young. It positively restored his faith in human nature. — Lauren Willig Copy Share Image
“That's a good point, I suppose,' he said in that way people have when you've just said something that's so off the mark it… — Lauren Willig Copy Share Image
“Such kindness wasn't a gift but a goad, scraping against one's skin like a yoke of thorns. She would have preferred him stiff, defensive,… — Lauren Willig Copy Share Image
“He admired her for throwing off her aristocratic shackles -- his terms, that -- and making her own way in the world. He didn't… — Lauren Willig Copy Share Image
“From far across the sea I come, Through fire, frost,and blazing sun, That you might, with your own fair hand, Enjoy the bounties of… — Lauren Willig Copy Share Image
Hard to believe that so nearby, just across the Channel, such atrocities could still occur in their supposedly civilized world, that one could wake… — Lauren Willig Copy Share Image
“Her eyes were as hard and bright as stars. Not the pretty sort that poets mooned about, but the kind that made men's destinies.” — Lauren Willig Copy Share Image
“I’m not your gilded prince with the gilded chairs, Letty,” Geoff said simply. “I couldn’t be if I tried.” “I wouldn’t want you to… — Lauren Willig Copy Share Image
“After an initial startled gasp, his intended bride dissolved into his arms, returning his kiss with more fervor than she had ever shown before.… — Lauren Willig Copy Share Image
Patience is only a virtue when there is something worth waiting for. — Lauren Willig Copy Share Image
“Inside, the festivities would continue, probably well into the night, with flirtation and merriment and gratuitous use of mistletoe. It was an inexpressibly wearying… — Lauren Willig Copy Share Image
