Quotes from Sherry Thomas

There was never a man present in all her dreams of freedom; there had always been only her, in glorious , splendid solitude, replete in and of herself.

The rediscovery of taste was as perilous as he'd feared it would be, rousing other dormant, dangerous longings for everything he did not have, everything he'd hoped to hold dear and could not. Her, of course; her always.

This damsel loves rescuing princes in distress.

This time he forgot everything. He only stood and stared. That smile. Christ, that smile. He recognized it by the wave of ecstatic joy that all but knocked him flat on his back. Had he though himself incapable of happiness in a sustained basis? He was wrong — and how. He could never have enough of this sweet elation. He wanted to splash in it, swim in it, drink it by the gallons, until nothing but bliss pulsed in his veins. The girl of his dreams. He had met her at last.

Her smiles were her armor. They were a necessity. But of course, a man like him wouldn't know the difference.

The doorbell rang. The glass slipped from his hand and broke at his feet. How long had she been gone? How did one keep track of time in Hell? He might have been in the study for days already, drinking himself into a state. But his servants hadn't returned to gaze aghast upon him yet, so it couldn't have been too long.

The woman was a holy terror: the sweetest face, the pillowiest bosom, and a perspicacity that stripped a man naked in seconds.

The bell clanged again. His heart seized. He spun around—and fell, onto a splinter of agony. He got to his feet, pulled a piece of glass from his knee, and ran. He banged his shoulder on the doorjamb of the study, banged his other shoulder on the longcase clock, and almost smacked his face into the door. Just remember, close the door before you kiss her. He yanked open the door, then slammed it shut in the next instant, his heart as shattered as the broken glasses in his study.

Underneath every detail of her life was a history of oppression. And yet she'd emerged not only with her spirit intact, but with a capacity for joy that he had only begun to understand. That he would now never truly know.

At her incendiary words, he drove deeper—far deeper—into her, unable to help himself. "So," she said, her fingers on his cheek, "now I've made you mine." He took her fingers in hand and kissed them one by one. "You made me yours long ago, but now you finally claimed me.

His ideal companion did not know what anger was. Her voice would never drip with sarcasm. And, of course, since she was not real, it was easy for her not to have strong emotions, to be only smiles and cuddles and wholesome perfection.

every woman ought to strive for—when in fact love is more like beef brought over from Argentina on refrigerated ships: It might stay fresh for a while under carefully controlled conditions, but sooner or later its qualities will begin to degrade. Love is by and large a perishable good and it is lamentable that young people are asked to make irrevocable, till-death-do-we-part decisions in the midst of a short-lived euphoria.

He liked seeing the world through her eyes. The night, to him, was rather ordinary, overlaid with London's crowded odors and a damp that promised a deeply unlovely fog in the near future. But she preferred to consider the commonest patch of grass and the most unremarkable clump of trees worthy of a Constable canvas - in which case this night could very well have graced the ceiling of a great cathedral.

I had no idea Scotland Yard employed novelists these days," said Lord Bancroft coldly. "Of the penny dreadful variety, no less.

And for one who had tended her years with care, autumn need not be a season of scarcity or regret—but one of harvest and celebration

Insult me all you care, Mr. Russell. But the law applies even to those who disdain it.

I don't know about you, but I always need a stiff drink after a visit with your parents

The Holy Bible. Encyclopedia Britannica. Mr. William Shakespeare's Comedies, Histories, & Tragedies, otherwise known as the First Folio.

I will have you know that I have the brightest mind and the keenest wit. Why, people are often astounded by the perspicacity of my discourse and the subtlety of my insight!" He

What is there to think about? What Mrs. Watson and her friend do and don't do with each other doesn't affect you to any extent.

Remind yourself that you're far more likely to undercharge than overcharge, my dear, because you don't yet understand your own value and you've never been taught to demand your full worth.

Mrs. Watson radiated such warmth and goodwill, it was difficult not to exclaim with pleasure in her company: One felt seen and understood. Whereas in Holmes's company, one felt seen through and analyzed.

Sweet things placed before her usually disappeared: Hunger wasn't necessary; cake tasted just as good accompanied by preoccupation, concern, or even boredom.

Remind yourself that you're far more likely to undercharge than overcharge, my dear, because you don't yet understand your own value and you've never been taught to demand your full worth." She smiled. "That's why I appointed myself the bursar of this operation, because I've had to learn both.