How the Dukes Stole Christmas

If anyone or anything frightens you, shout.” “Shout what?” He made an aimless gesture. “‘Help,’ I suppose. Or ‘Fire’ or ‘Murder.’ In a pinch, ‘James’ would suffice.” She nodded. “‘Come to me, you magnificent stag,’ it is.

What you don’t realize is that the world does not need more perfection. It needs more compassion and empathy.

Louisa was left to wonder how grown men found the smallest words the most difficult ones to say. “Thanks,” “please,” “sorry”… From the way their tongues tripped over the syllables, you’d think those words were Latin names for species of exotic fungi. When it came to “love,” some of them lost the power of speech altogether.

You deserve it. You are a jewel among women.” Her brow wrinkled. “What? I thought I was being romantic.” “Yes, but … I don’t like to be praised in ways that deprecate the remainder of my sex. The world has countless jewel-worthy women. I’m not the only one.

Emotions were so much easier to sort through one at a time, or so Louisa supposed. She wouldn’t know. Her life always delivered them in bundles, tied with impossibly knotted string.

But the heart wants what the heart wants, I’m told.

What is past does not have to be future,

That’s why it’s wonderful. If it were easy to find the books I want, I’d never find the books I didn’t know existed, but once I’ve found them can’t live without.