Please come to me, Cat, because there's no surviving you. You don't have to love me back. You don't have to be mine. Just let me be yours.

The boy heaved a sigh. "I would ask to go with you," he said, " but I have to finish my lessons. I so look forward to the day when I know everything. Then I won't have to read any more books or do any more counting." Beatrix smiled. "I don't wish to be discouraging, Rye, but it's not possible to know everything." "Mama does." Rye paused reflectively. "At least, Papa says we mus t pretend she does, because it makes her happy." "Your father," Beatrix informed him with a laugh, " is one of the wisest men I've ever known.

What you should really be sorry for," he continued, "is that for the rest of my life, I'll have to avoid wine cellars to keep from thinking about you." "Why? Was kissing me that bad?" A devil-solf whisper. "No sweetheart. It was that good.

Girlfriend, if you're waiting for a fairy godmother to show up with a dress and a ride, you're not going to make it to the party.

One can't help but marvel at the variety of ways that women had devised to make us look like flaming idiots.

We’ll continue our discussion later. Right now I intend to escort Miss Peyton to her room.” “That is not a wise idea, in my opinion,” the earl said. “I’m glad I didn’t ask for it, then,” Simon returned pleasantly

Was this some new level of depravity? Had he developed a spinster fetish?