Smell is the voice of the soul.

I'm a terrible prince. I should put my kingdom first and everything else second, but your first. I want you by my side every second, but I know I would crumble if I lost you.

Her smile was peculiar - it made her nose wrinkle, not as though she smelled something unpleasant, but more that she was so amused, her whole face wanted to be a part of the smile.

She answered by standing and kissing him first and held his cheeks and closed her eyes and felt sure as bones and deep as blood that she had found her place.

You, what are you? The brat of lucky parents who were related to a childless king. There is no such thing as royal blood. I believe we are what we make ourselves, and as such, you, Crown Princess, are nothing.

If you're listening Big Brother, I refuse to be Fanny Price.

Time is a wind that keeps blowing in my face and mumbling words that don't make sense.