A book had always been a door to another world... a world much more interesting and fantastical than reality. But she had finally discovered that life could be even more wonderful than fantasy. And that love could fill the real world with magic.

As we talked, I had the sense of uncovering something precious and long-buried, fully formed. Our conversation was a process of removing layers, some of them easily dusted away. Other layers, requiring chisels or axes, were left alone for now. We revealed as much as we dared about what had happened during the years that separated us. But it wasn't what I had expected, being with Hardy again. There was something in me that remained stubbornly locked away, as if I were afraid to let out the emotion I had harbored for so long.

You're always looking for some new way to tell the same story, but it's how they get to the happy end that is the challenge and the fun for a writer.

One of the servants had reported that Daisy had been sneaking around the house at night, deliberately tripping all the traps to keep the mice from being killed. “Is this true, daughter?” Thomas Bowman had rumbled, his gaze filled with ire as he stared at Daisy. “It could be,” she had allowed. “But there is another explanation.” “And what is that?” Bowman had asked sourly. Her tone turned congratulatory. “I think we are hosting the most intelligent mice in New York!

Catherine went still. Her eyes closed against a sudden wet sting. 'Did you accept her proposal?' Leo nuzzled tenderly into the hollow beneath her ear. 'Of course not, pea-goose.

Good God. I don’t believe St. Vincent and the word ‘celibacy’ have ever been mentioned in the same sentence before.

A man's vanity is more fragile that you might think. It's easy for us to mistake shyness for coldness, and silence for indifference.