This thing between them, this bond—it wasn’t just passion, and it wasn’t wicked. It was love, and it was divine.

Any man, you'll soon learn, has an insurmountable need to blame someone else when he is made to look a fool.

When you walk into a room,” he said softly, “the air changes.

She needed him to be him. Even if he could not be hers.

Why don’t you purchase an Italian dictionary? I will assume the expense.” “I have one,” she said, “but I don’t think it’s very good. Half the words are missing.” “Half?” “Well, some,” she amended. “But truly, that’s not the problem.” He blinked, waiting for her to continue. She did. Of course. “I don’t think Italian is the author’s native tongue,” she said. “The author of the dictionary?” he queried. “Yes. It’s not terribly idiomatic.

You should be thankful that dark colors suit you. Not everyone wears black well." "Why, Lady Olivia, is that a compliment?" "Not so much as a compliment to you as an insult to everyone else," she assured him. "Thanks heaven for that. I don't think I would know how to conduct myself in a world in which you offered compliments.

I don't know whether to toss you through that window or shake your hand and say 'Well done'" Henry said in a tired voice.