“Miss Butterworth and the Mad Baron,” Sebastian said approvingly. “Excellent choice.”
“You have read this?” Alexei asked.
“It’s not as good as Miss Davenport and the Dark Marquis, of course, but worlds better than Miss Sainsbury and the Mysterious Colonel.”
Harry found himself rendered speechless.
“I’m reading Miss Truesdale and the Silent Gentleman right now.”
“Silent?” Harry echoed.
“There is a noticeable lack of dialogue,” Sebastian confirmed.”
― Julia Quinn, quote from What Happens in London
“Are you all right?” he asked Olivia. His heart was still racing with terror that she’d been hurt. “I heard a woman scream.”
“Ah, that would have been me,” Sebastian said.
Harry looked down on his cousin, face frozen in disbelief. “You made that noise?”
“It hurt,” Sebastian bit off.
Harry fought not to laugh. “You scream like a leettle girl.”
― Julia Quinn, quote from What Happens in London
“I also think he is given to disguises...Sometimes he wears spectacles and sometimes he does not. And twice he has worn an extremely peculiar hat. Inside.”
― Julia Quinn, quote from What Happens in London
“Olivia: You didn't even know I was there!
Harry: Excuse me, yes I did.”
― Julia Quinn, quote from What Happens in London
“When a man writes a romance, the woman dies. When a woman writes one, it ends all tidy and sweet.”
― Julia Quinn, quote from What Happens in London
“She’d ceased spying upon him, that was true, but the damage was done. Every time he sat at his desk, he could feel her eyes upon him, even though he knew very well she’d shut her curtains tight. But clearly, reality had very little to do with the matter, because all he had to do, it seemed, was glance at her window, and he lost an entire hour’s work.
It happened thus: He looked at the window, because it was there, and he couldn’t very well never happen to glance upon it unless he also shut his curtains tight, which he was not willing to do, given the amount of time he spent in his office. So he saw the window, and he thought of her, because, really, what else would he think of upon seeing her bedroom window? At that point, annoyance set in, because A) she wasn’t worth the energy, B) she wasn’t even there, and C) he wasn’t getting any work done because of her.
C always led into a bout of even deeper irritation, this time directed at himself, because D) he really ought to have better powers of concentration, E) it was just a stupid window, and F) if he was going to get agitated about a female, it ought to be one he at least liked.
F was where he generally let out a loud growl and forced himself to get back to his translation. It usually worked for a minute or two, and then he’d look back up, and happen to see the window, and the whole bloody nonsense cycled back to the beginning.”
― Julia Quinn, quote from What Happens in London
“ How I Would Like to Kill My Brother,
Version Sixteen
By Olivia Bevelstoke
No. really, what was the point? She could hardly top Version Fifteen, which had featured both vivisection and wild boar.”
― Julia Quinn, quote from What Happens in London
“You should be thankful that dark colors suit you. Not everyone wears black well."
"Why, Lady Olivia, is that a compliment?"
"Not so much as a compliment to you as an insult to everyone else," she assured him.
"Thanks heaven for that. I don't think I would know how to conduct myself in a world in which you offered compliments.”
― Julia Quinn, quote from What Happens in London
“And so Harry became proficient in the task of cleaning up vomit.”
― Julia Quinn, quote from What Happens in London
“What?"
"You're so neat," she said, looking almost embarrassed.
He glanced pointedly over his shoulder. "There are four hundred on the other side of this door."
"But you're ruining me."
"I can't do it neatly?”
― Julia Quinn, quote from What Happens in London
“She was so beautiful it made her teeth ache.
He made a mental note not to attempt poetry.”
― Julia Quinn, quote from What Happens in London
“What part of his being hunched over a sheaf of papers was so
interesting to her? Because that was all he had been doing all week.
Perhaps he ought to liven up the spectacle. Really, it would be the kind thing to do. She had to
be bored silly.
He could jump on his desk and sing.
Take a bite of food and pretend to choke. What would she do, then?
Now that would be an interesting moral dilemma.”
― Julia Quinn, quote from What Happens in London
“He felt a bit like Romeo to her Juliet, minus the feuding families and poison.
And with pigeons.”
― Julia Quinn, quote from What Happens in London
“Forget Romeo and Juliet. This was much closer to The Taming of the Shrew.”
― Julia Quinn, quote from What Happens in London
“Sebastian,” Katarina said, turning to her nephew. “You’ve grown.”
“It happens,” Sebastian quipped, flashing her his usual lopsided grin.
“Goodness,” she said with smile, “you’ll be a danger to the ladies soon.”
Harry very nearly rolled his eyes. Sebastian had already made conquests of nearly all the girls in the village near Hesslewhite. He must give off some sort of scent, because the females positively fell at his feet.
It would have been appalling, except that the girls couldn’t all dance with Sebastian. And Harry was more than happy to be the nearest man standing when the smoke cleared.”
― Julia Quinn, quote from What Happens in London
“Most people would have probably lost count around seven. This was, Harry knew
from his extensive reading on logic and arithmetic, the largest number that most people
could visually appreciate. Put seven dots on a page, and most people can take a quick
glance and declare, “Seven.” Switch to eight, and the majority of humanity was lost.”
― Julia Quinn, quote from What Happens in London
“Come along, Sally," she called out to her maid, who was lagging at least a dozen steps behind.
"it's eraly," Sally moaned.
"It's half seven," Olivia told her, holding steady for a few moments to allow Sally to catch up.
"That's early."
"Normally, I would agree with you, but as it happens I believe I am turning over a new leaf. Just see how lovely it is outside. The sun is shinning, there is music in the air..."
"I hear no music," Sally grumbled.
"Birds, Sally. The birds are singing."
Sally remained unconvinced. "That leaf of yours - I don't suppose you'd consider turning it back over again?”
― Julia Quinn, quote from What Happens in London
“What is this 'baronet'?" the prince asked.
"Endlessly in between," Harry replied with a sigh. "A bit like purgatory, really.”
― Julia Quinn, quote from What Happens in London
“It's good that you can be horrid when neccesary. It's a useful skill."
She leaned on her elbow, settling her chin onto her hand. "Funny, my brother never seemed to think so.”
― Julia Quinn, quote from What Happens in London
“A gentleman might have stopped then. She had climaxed, and she was still a virgin, and he was probably a beast for wanting to make love to her fully, but he simply couldn't...not.
She was his.
But not, he was coming to realize, quite as much as he was hers.”
― Julia Quinn, quote from What Happens in London
“Places I Would Rather Be, Edition 1821
By Lady Olivia Bevelstoke
France
With Miranda
With Miranda in France
In bed with a cup of chocolate and a newspaper
Anywhere with a cup of chocolate and a newspaper
Anywhere with either with a cup of chocolate or a newspaper”
― Julia Quinn, quote from What Happens in London
“I would like to request the honor of your daughter's hand in marriage".
Olivia gasped, then squealed, then jumped up and down, which turned out to be a bad idea. "Ow!" she yelped smacking her head on the window. She poked her head back out and beamed down at Harry with tears in her eyes.
"Oh Harry", she signed.”
― Julia Quinn, quote from What Happens in London
“He's an idiot," Harry said again. "One who doesn't deserve to lick your feet. You'll thank me someday."
"I have no intention of allowing him to lick me anywhere," she retorted, then turned utterly red when she realized what she's said.”
― Julia Quinn, quote from What Happens in London
“Trust me,” he said. “When a man writes a romance, the woman dies. When a woman writes one, it ends all tidy and sweet.”
― Julia Quinn, quote from What Happens in London
Julia Quinn
Born place: New York City, NY, The United States
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“Have you ever thought for once that when you look in the mirror you are hyper aware of your flaws? When the rest of us may see something different. Like a teenager with a pimple. She doesn't focus on her beautiful eyes and cute lips, she zeros in on the one tiny flaw and goes nuts over it." He put his hands behind his head and looked at the ceiling. "You need to stop obsessing over your scars. It's only a quarter of your face and I can't tell you the last time I noticed.”
― Marilyn Grey, quote from Bloom
“Sometimes when I’m facing a horrendous week or am upset over a perceived slight, I remind myself that I won’t remember it (much less care about it) one month, six months, or a year from now. (The more extreme version of this strategy is to use the deathbed criterion: Will it matter when you’re on your deathbed?)”
― Sonja Lyubomirsky, quote from The How of Happiness: A Scientific Approach to Getting the Life You Want
“People who felt scared or desperate enough could do almost anything, even things that are extremely out of their character to do; things that are not natural to them. When it came to the human condition, it only took one small spark to light an inferno.”
― J.M. Northup, quote from Fears of Darkness
“Forget looking angry; Dean Winchester was positively predatory.”
― quote from Twist and Shout
“She was a hunchback with a sweet smile. She smiled sweetly at anything; she couldn't help it; the trees, me, the grass, anything. The basket pulled her down, dragging her toward the ground. She was such a tiny woman, with a hurt face, as if slapped forever. She wore a funny old hat, an absurd hat, a maddening hat, a hat to make me cry, a hat with faded red berries on the brim. And there she was, smiling at everything, struggling across the carpet with a heavy basket containing Lord knew what, wearing a plumed hat with red berries.
I got up. It was so mysterious. There I was, like magic, standing up, my two feet on the ground, my eyes drenched.
I said, "Let me help."
She smiled again and gave me the basket. We began to walk. She led the way. Beyond the trees it was stifling. And she smiled. It was so sweet it nearly tore my head off. She talked, she told me things I never remembered. It didn't matter. In a« dream she held me, in a dream I followed under the blinding sun. For blocks we went forward. I hoped it would never end. Always she talked in a low voice made of human music. What words! What she said! I remembered nothing. I was only happy. But in my heart I was dying. It should have been so. We stepped from so many curbs, I wondered why she did not sit upon one and hold my head while I drifted away. It was the chance that never came again.
That old woman with the bent back! Old woman, I feel so joyfully your pain. Ask me a favor, you old woman you! Anything. To die is easy. Make it that. To cry is easy, lift your skirt and let me cry and let my tears wash your feet to let you know I know what life has been for you, because my back is bent too, but my heart is whole, my tears are delicious, my love is yours, to give you joy where God has failed. To die is so easy and you may have my life if you wish it, you old woman, you hurt me so, you did, I will do anything for you, to die for you, the blood of my eighteen years flowing in the gutters of Wilmington and down to the sea for you, for you that you might find such joy as is now mine and stand erect without the horror of that twist.
I left the old woman at her door.
The trees shimmered. The clouds laughed. The blue sky took me up. Where am I? Is this Wilmington, California? Haven't I been here before? A melody moved my feet. The air soared with Arturo in it, puffing him in and out and making him something and nothing. My heart laughed and laughed. Goodbye to Nietzsche and Schopenhauer and all of you, you fools, I am much greater than all of you! Through my veins ran music of blood. Would it last? It could not last. I must hurry. But where? And I ran toward home. Now I am home. I left the book in the park. To hell with it. No more books for me. I kissed my mother. I clung to her passionately. On my knees I fell at her feet to kiss her feet and cling to her ankles until it must have hurt her and amazed her that it was I.”
― John Fante, quote from The Road to Los Angeles
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