Miss Wynter, I think you should be the evil queen,” Harriet said. “There’s an evil queen?” Daniel echoed. With obvious delight. “Of course,” Harriet replied. “Every good play has an evil queen.” Frances actually raised her hand. “And a un—” “Don’t say it,” Elizabeth growled. Frances crossed her eyes, put her knife to her forehead in an approximation of a horn, and neighed.

Heartache, Daphne eventually learned, never really went away; it just dulled. The sharp, stabbing pain that one felt with each breath eventually gave way to a blunter, lower ache—the kind that one could almost—but never quite—ignore.

Thou Shalt Not Covet Thy Cousin‟s Wife. Moses must have forgotten to write that one down

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.

Happy endings are all I can do. I wouldn't know how to write anything else.

There was a huge difference between dislike and disregard.

A man’s got to keep up appearances. I’ll be universally detested if everyone realizes how perfect you are.