My Lady Jane

No horse jokes," he said. "My lord, I apologize for the horse joke. If you put down the book---unharmed!---I will give you a carrot." He brandished the book at her. "Was that a horse joke?" "Neigh." "Was that a horse joke?

Dedication For everyone who knows there was enough room for Leonardo DiCaprio on that door. And for England. We’re really sorry for what we’re about to do to your history.

I know I'm not inspiring much confidence at this point, but there's something else I thought I'd bring up.” She lifted her eyes to him. “I love you more than I love books.

On everyone’s lap rested a book. Any book. In case the wedding got boring.

He wanted to tell her she'd have more room if she'd just get rid of her books, but he supposed that in her case, it would be like telling a mother she'd have more room if she threw out her children.

He pretended to stretch his arms, in order to shift even closer to her. (This isn’t in the history books, of course, but we’d like to point out that this was the first time a young man had ever tried that particular arm-stretch move on a young woman. Edward was the inventor of the arm stretch, a tactic that teenage boys have been using for centuries.)

She delighted in the smell of the ink, the rough feel of the paper between her fingers, the rustle of sweet pages, the shapes of letters before her eyes.

Armies aren't very good about carrying libraries with them. I can't imagine why. We'd fight so much less if everyone would juste sit down and read

Your majesty, please reconsider," Lord Dudley pleaded. "Your position will be much stronger with your husband as king. The people will see it as a sign of strength - " She took a deep breath. "They need signs of my strength, not my reliance on the men around me

Firstly, bears are always hungry. So when you encounter the bear, don’t act like food.” “Huh?” “I read it in a book last summer, called—” G held up a hand. “Don’t tell me the name! No time.” “Right. As I was saying, bears are always hungry. Try not to act like food.” “How does one act like food?

Who on earth could feel comfortable enough to sleep in a room with no books? Edward

When you came after me at the tavern, you nearly died." He looked wrecked at the memory. "You nearly died, and then who would I have argued with?" "You'd have found someone." "No." He stepped toward her. "I only want to argue with you.

G took another gulp, and thought about the best way to break the equestrian news.My dear, you know those four-legged majestical beasts of the land? Well, you married one! No. That could not be the right approach.My sweet, have you ever had a difficult time deciding between man or beast? Well, now you don’t have to! Again, he thought better of this tactic.Sweet lady, there are those of us who sleep lying down, and those of us who sleep standing up. I can do both. No.You know how some men claim to have another, perhaps hairier side?Have you ever cursed the fact that your loved one has just the two legs?Did you know that horses have incredible balance?Hey! What’s that over there? And then he would gallop away.

Because he was English and that's what the English do under stress: they drink tea.

And most of all, she loved the way books could transport her from her otherwise mundane and stifling life and offer the experiences of a hundred other lives.

I’m so hungry I could eat a horse. Oh. Sorry, G. Not you, of course.

Very funny, my lady. And that reminds me"---he pointed a finger at her---"no horse jokes." He was making it too easy. "Ah, my lord, why the long face?" "That's it!

You're wrong," Lord Dudley said. "You've always been a fool." "The fool thinks he is wise," G retorted. "But the wise man knows himself to be a fool.

You should try to be nicer to the other horses. You're herd animals. Who will you run with if he goes back to tell the others of your two-faced personality? Who will you compare apple notes with? Soon you won't have any friends but me.

Shall I compare thee to a barrel of apples? Though art more hairy, but sweeter inside. Rough winds couldn't keep me from taking you to chapel, Where finally a horse could take a bride...

We're going to live tomorrow, and for long after. We'll have years and years to fight about everything you want to fight about." He made it sound like it was a desirable thing. "I hope so," Jane said. "I've been making a list." "I don't doubt it. What shall we fight about first?

Dearest Jane, Sorry I made you marry a horse. Your father-in-law is trying to kill me. Send help. But

What my wife desires--and what you should have guessed, had you paid attention--is bookcases. And books, of course, to fill them. Not more decorations or useless items. She wants books.

Poor King Edward, now under the ground. Hacked his lungs out. They've yet to be found.

Edward couldn’t imagine his cousin Jane with a husband and a child, even though she was sixteen years old and sixteen was a bit spinsterish, by the standards of the day.

It was 1538 and John Lambert had been outed as an Edian when, after hearing Frederic Clarence had written a pamphlet denouncing Edian magic, he turned into a dog and ate the papers, prompting Clarence to cry out, "That dog ate my scriptwork!

Do all of your rules pertain to books? I suppose I understand why, since your social shortcomings mean books are your closest friends." He momentarily seemed taken aback at his own rudeness. Jane narrowed her eyes. "Are you sure your true E∂ian form isn't a jackass?

I am not dead" argued Edward. "There are nefarious villains who would have you believe I died. But any accounts of my demise have been grossly exaggerated, I assure you, for here I am, very much alive.

So he was her husband, Edward might eat her, and no one's hair could rival his.

Through books she could see the world.