The Women of Chateau Lafayette

Because the world always snuffs out fire, and every generation must bring light from darkness again.

Grief is like thick morning fog. You breathe it, swim in it, drown in it—or at least you want to drown, but for some damned reason, you keep living, breathing, walking. One foot in front of the other even though you can’t see the path ahead. You tiptoe, and so does everybody else . .

Many exchange vows, rings, and kisses, but let us exchange hearts. That way you will never be alone; I will always be with you, for you will have, and be, my own dear heart.

Glory is a bittersweet wreath of both flowers and thorns.

I never wanted my boys to believe that heroism was only about fighting. I wanted them to know bravery could be found in working to make a difference, whether on a stage or by risking themselves over a mine-laden sea. I wanted them to look for courage not just in their father's example, but also...in mine.

To ask why was only to demand justification. To ask why not assumed endless possibility...

Our friends warned, In running a middle course, you run the risk of being hated by both sides . .

Lately public opinion is like a surreal painting, where contradictory beliefs and prejudices melt together like Dalí’s clocks.

So it’s contagious. Whatever madness is in that damned castle that makes people forget good sense, you’ve caught it.

Sporting a navy blue suit with a hemline so daring it showed the tops of her white buttoned spats,

There is something I wish to impress on you children. That is to never be neutral between right and wrong. Never oppress anybody, or allow anybody to be oppressed. Always stand for what you believe is right, and never flinch in the face of any odds.

An awestruck Emily Sloane, however, babbled incoherently. To put her at ease, Roosevelt continued, “Lafayette’s career is a lesson in international morality, which is in short supply these days. You ladies are doing important work at the Lafayette Fund, and I’d like to help.

Oh, the Lafayettes boasted distinguished persons in their line, but as provincial nobility with a crumbling castle in the mountains, they had no standing with the king.

stop him before he can go all the way down on

He also needs somebody like me — somebody to slug his arm and muss his hair and push him into new and uncomfortable adventures. And I need him because he's no saint; he's something solid to hold on to, someone who feels like home. Someone who loves me, cracks and all . . .

There is no part of me I withhold from him anymore. No old grudge or pain, no wish or hope to have lived any other life. For ours, together, was glorious.

That you are fused into my life such that I cannot distinguish you from my own existence.

Oh, we're all sad from time to time, darling, but I shall soon be better.

I did not yet know your gentleness is a velvet drape over steel...

The softness of the bed left less impression upon me than the softness of the girl upon it," he said, stroking my hair.

The edges of grief aren't so sharp now, and I can almost smile at the memory. Almost.

Personally, I don't trust love — inside me it's been a confusing and slippery emotion, taking on too many forms to recognized. And I've apparently been so starved of it that I've developed feelings for everybody who ever showed a real interest.

I will never again know another breath that is not mingled with brief.

Perhaps. One of the sweetest words!

For the world played no part in this new life of mine. Why, then, did the world insist upon intruding?

My tomorrows were not promised, but I desperately wanted today.

To feel appreciated and admired, and not always on my guard for a barbed comment or flare of temper.

You can't make me that person." "What person?" "The one who hurts you.

You can't make me that person." "What person?" "The one who hurts you," he says.