Quotes from Nora Roberts

The grouper isn't one of your prettier fish, but it's versatile. They're all born female and produce eggs before they change sex and become functioning males.

pot-boiling thriller in a steamy bubble bath, but

Ninguém a levaria a sério, a não ser que ela mesma se levasse a sério.

them. Her hair was short and fluffed and silver

I was your lover Liam, but never your partner. I won't settle for that, not even for you. You had my heart in your hands, and you didn't know what to do with it. I can tell you, without the crystal ball, without the gift, you will never have another like it.

the same." "You don't have to. The boys and I have a good life. The life we want." "That's easy to say, but a father considers worrying over his daughters a

not jumping up and down and

still sort of round and babyish while his

things without any more information than what you've given me.

Light defeats the dark. Fire purifies. And blood is at the heart of all.

Se as pessoas não gostaseem de olhar para coisas atraentes, a arte não existiria.

two Ã¢â'¬Â¦ But she didn't, so speculating proved useless. This was only for her.

Well, I was wondering if love really last like that, through death and time. It's the only thing that really lasts.

However long it took, light would beat back the dark.

When shall we three meet again? In thunder, lightning, or in rain? When the hurlyburly's done, When the battle's lost and won. —WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE

A year is a century when you're waiting for love.

Like Tokyo? That's the capital of

alone and let me sleep.

the way he had of moving over the land. "And have you always

a nurse, since you're staying awake

He brought her no flowers, but she remembered he'd planted a willow tree. He gave her no smooth, clever phrases, but she remembered the look she'd sometimes catch in his eyes. He wasn't a poet, he wasn't a romantic, but that look, that one long, intense look, said more than most women ever heard.

Romance & the mystery of it, for everyone who can find it.

When there was a crack in something it only widened if you didn't tend to it. Let it go long enough, a crack became a break, and you had a hell of a mess on your hands.

painting, in music, in literature or theater? If so, did that make the rest of the world nothing more than the audience? Passive observers whose only contribution was applause or criticism?