Shaw...has a woman ever asked you to write a poem for her?" "Good God, no," Gideon replied with a snicker. "Shaws don't write poetry. They pay others to write it for them and then take the credit for it.

Can't you just tell me now?" "No, I need someone to eat with." A slight smile rose to my lips. "Am I supposed to believe that I'm your only option?" "No. But you're my favorite option.

I didn't think there was any way to convince Jack that he wanted more than I had to give, that to people who'd been damaged the way I had been, fear and the will to survive would always be more powerful than attachment. I could only love in a limited way

I felt the kind of loneliness that can happen in a roomful of people when everyone but you seems to be in on the good time.

But we have to find ways of compromising when we disagree on something. You know what compromise is, right?" "Uh-huh. It's when you don't get to have everything your way and I don't get to have everything my way, and no one's happy.

And Poppy, remember that someday you will meet a frog who will turn into a handsome prince." "Good," Beatrix said. "Because all she's met so far are princes who turn into frogs." "Mr. Bayning is not a frog," Poppy protested. "You're right," Beatrix said. "That was very unfair to frogs, who are lovely creatures.

A well-read woman is a dangerous creature.