Quotes from Mary Balogh

Now it had been done. And everything was in the past.

But life and pain go hand and hand. On e cannot live fully unless one faces pain at least occasionally.

She felt very close to despair. It seemed that everything was going wrong around her.

Yes, it was finished. Now, everything was finished. Everything. She hit the frightening bottom of despair.

She wanted his very soul, it seemed. Well, she would have it. He had no more use for it himself.

He did not immediately answer. Their eyes locked and neither looked away. Camille swallowed as he pushed away from the counter and came toward her. He set one hand on the table beside hers and the other on the back of her chair. He drew breath as though to say something, but then leaned over her instead and kissed her.

I have never stopped loving you, he said. I realized that as soon as I saw you again.

Robert...When you are eighty-two years old, know that there is an eighty-year-old woman somewhere who loves you. Isn't that a delightful thought to keep you going for the next fifty years or so?" "You will probably still have a court of admirers," he said, "and will not be interested in knowing that there is also an eighty-two-year-old man who loves you.

Have you noticed, Marius, she asked on one occasion, that the English tend to feel that if they talk loudly enough, the French will understand them? As if talking French were an affliction of the deaf?

This was a predicament that she would have to get herself out of, though there did not seem to be any way.

She had kissed him back, eagerly, inexpertly . . . and had rashly gazed into his eyes afterward and told him with passionate conviction that she loved him, that she would always, always love him.

The foolish words kept spilling from his mouth, though they seemed to have come from nowhere.

Each, for me, has its own charms, though none can be considered strictly "perfect" adaptations.

his description

what she had

I am feeling quite well, I thank you, my lord, she said as coolly as she was able. Not so easy a thing to accomplish when one had just looked up, startled, into a pair of very blue bedroom eyes. Gracious, he had no business looking at anyone that way. Not outside the bedroom, anyway.

She could never make him happy. She had nothing of her real self to offer him.

If only he had been any other man in the world.

He would never stop loving her. Never.

This whole strange episode was like some sort of bizarre dream. He could scarcely believe what had just happened. There had been no thought behind it, no reasoning, no sense.

It had been a short conversation. It had also been the kindest they had shared in longer than ten years.

The trouble is that I have grown accustomed to worrying about you.

Oh, no, he thought with a curious pang about the heart, he had not imagined it.

Henry could not escape the truth. She loved Marius quite hopelessly. Finally, after believing that no man would ever be worthy of her entire trust and respect, she seemed to have found such a man.