Quotes from Kate Noble

Leaving?" she squeaked, bemused, as Max opened her wardrobe. "You're abducting me?" "Eloping. Eloping involves hurried packing. Abducting involves masked men and a burlap sack.

Love…love is understanding. Love is knowing that other person so well, you can anticipate them. Like if someone knows you're uncomfortable, and they loosen your boot strings. Or if he knows you're deeply worried about something, and does his best to remedy it and soothe your fears.

It's just me.

Listen you..you.."he sputtered. "You what ? You've already used hellion,draft girl and missy' .i can think of several more degradation,but then again im not the one trying so hard to be intimidating." "How about you,maddending,foolish,moronic little chit ?" "Much better !" she applauded.

It seems rather prophetic. We were just joking about this the other day." "I know. Fate has annoying timing.

The workings of the male mind are twisted indeed." Winnifred Crane

They let the silence stand then . . . not uneasily, just taking a moment to breathe in time, to listen to the noises around them. How pleasant, Jane thought, to be silent for a few moments. Normally noise overtook her life—normally she sought it, finding silence solitary and confining—suffocating. But how pleasant to be silent with someone.

Long ago, before England was cut up with pavement, or bisected by railways, there existed in the county of Lancashire a small village named Reston that never bothered anyone.

So often, she had found herself transported by music. She would get lost, lose herself to the time and fullness of the tones, the way it conjured up air around her as she listened or as she played. But this, she thought, one did not get lost in this music. One was delivered by it.

They were in the attic, in the dark. Rain pounded down against the roof, encapsulating them in a wall of sound. They had their own world. And for once, he would not allow the consequences to ruin the moment.

Come along, you need to sleep," he argued, but she pushed his hands away. "I'm just resting my eyes." "And Napoleon just had a mild interest in foreign policy. Come on.

Watching his sister be a mother was perhaps the greatest argument for marriage. And watching his niece spit up on her was perhaps the best argument against procreation.

Well, that settles it," Jason said with mock severity. "Such condescension tells me what I had long suspected." "Which is . . ." "That George Bambridge was not raised with the benefit of a sister.

It's not fair . . . She's mine . . . She's always been mine," George whined deliriously. "No she's not," Jason spat. And then, he took the triptych from Mr. Ellis's hands. And looking into her eyes, handed it to Winn. "She never belonged to anyone but herself.

Many remember the London Season of 1823 as being fraught with passion, excitement, and more than one act of derring-do. But more than anything, they remember that 1823 was the year of the color gold—what with the popularity of the Golden Lady, and every young debutante trying to copy her style.

Brilliant. Marvelous.

Where Evangeline came to below his shoulder, Gail was a head taller. An easier distance from which to spit in his eye, he thought spitefully.