“I had a thought," Bradshaw said into the silence.
"Amazing," Tristan returned dryly.”
“I'll be back at sea by then," Bradshaw put in, "so I'll comfort myself with the knowledge that you'll name
the infant after me."
"I don't think 'Half-wit' will pass muster with Georgie, but I'll let her know that's your suggestion.”
“Roses," Georgiana repeated, her thoughtful gaze touching his. "It's about time one of the Carroway men
decided to cultivate something other than their poor reputations.”
“I would die again for you, Lucinda," he murmured.
"I don't want you to die for me. I want you to live." Pulling his face down, she kissed him. Again and again, until he kissed her back with growing passion and until his body stopped shuddering. "I love you," she whispered against his mouth, knowing he wouldn't—couldn't—say it, himself.
And then he surprised her.
"I love you, Lucinda," he whispered back. "I wish I could be what you want.”
“She lifted her head to look him in his deep blue eyes. "You are what I want, Robert. Even before I knew.”
“I wish you'd tell me when we're having friends over for luncheon."
"I would, if they would tell me.”
“Increase of knowledge only discovered to me more clearly what a wretched outcast I was. —The Monster, Frankenstein”
“I've found that it's easier to be pleasant when there's less need to be so.”
“Talking to yourself?" Her father turned the corner of the house to join her amid the rows of roses. Sneaking was evil, she decided. "No. I was… just conversing with the new rosebush," she stammered, feeling her cheeks warm. "Ah. And did it answer?" "I believe it to be shy." "If it everdoesanswer, you will inform me, won't you ?" "Very amusing.”
“And even though he enjoyed being around her, he resisted her,
because he was supremely aware that he wasn't the old Robert any longer; he was Bit, a piece of what
he'd once been.”
“On nights like this, when he rode out from the dark, silent house to the dark, deserted park, he could
forget.
He could be nothing but a solitary rider on a fast horse, wind in his face and the world open around him.
No walls, no bars, no quiet weeping or screams or death. None of that could catch him. On a night like
this, none of it could find him.”
“Because my heat was too full of appreciation for what my friends-- my real friends-- had done for me.”
“I liked the idea, how the past could be preserved, fossilized, in the stars. I wanted to think that somewhere on the other end of time, a hundred light years from then, someone else, some distant future creature, might be looking back at a preserved image of me and my father at that very moment in my bedroom.”
“My dad had once told me, crimson-red deep in “the talk,” that with sons, all he had to worry about was one penis, but with a daughter, he had to worry about everyone else’s.”
“He believed in mission. But . . . he did not believe in it as an intellectual imperative, or even as a professional standard. Mission . . . was an abstract notion that took meaning in concrete situations.”
“Stand before your god, bow before your king, kneel before your man.”
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