Quotes from Theodora Goss

Was the house being watched? They could not see the Wolf Men, and more importantly, Catherine could not smell them. So taking a chance, they ran up the steps to the front door and rang the bell. It was opened almost at once. "Come in, come in quickly," said Mrs. Poole. "Poor Miss Frankenstein has killed a man!

Mary, it is sometimes permissible to lie to others, but it is never wise to lie to oneself.

You are too kind and generous," said Justine. Irene smiled. "Or really, really mad at those bastards. When I shoot a man, I expect him to die!

But then she put her hands on Mary's shoulders and kissed her on both cheeks. Well, Mary didn't mind. Irene was the most interesting woman she had ever met. They were not in competition, but if they had been, she would happily have lost to Irene Norton.

We are not purely material beings," he continued. "Dr. Bell would say that we are not material beings at all, although I would not go that far. But we are surrounded by waves of energy. You've seen them in operation, even if you have not seen the waves themselves.

People don't necessarily like to be experimented on. Not even by fiction.

As though God has decided to drown the world again, she thought, almost wishing He would. Sometimes she thought the world needed drowning.

Should she stay? This was her house, after all. No, it was their house too. Let Beatrice stay—she did not have to be responsible for everything. Mary felt a sense of relief. There were others to share the responsibility now.

MARY: Hysterical mutism is most often associated with trauma, such as an assault of some sort. I learned that in Vienna, when we were discussing symptoms of madness before Diana was— CATHERINE: Could you please not spoil the plot for our readers? You can talk about researching symptoms of madness all you want when I get to Vienna. I mean when you get to Vienna, later in the narrative.

There is modesty, and there is propriety. The former is a natural instinct, given to us when Adam and Eve left the garden and realized their nakedness. The latter is merely a social construct. Although as human beings we wish to consort with our fellows, and therefore yield to their judgments in matters of dress and behavior, surely we may break the rules of propriety when they interfere with the important matters of our lives, so long as modesty is not thereby wounded.

The two halves parted, with every sign of mutual respect. Neither chastised the other. There were no recriminations. In each of us there is a thief and a saint. The trouble of it is, we cannot part them.

Well, there's one thing that gives me hope." "What's that?" asked Beatrice, shaking out one of the blankets and wrapping it around herself. Catherine smiled. It was a grim smile. "Diana's with them. There is no situation so well-planned that Diana can't introduce chaos into it. Whoever is holding them, wherever they're being held, is going to regret it.

It was the first moment I chose courage over fear, and I have always made the same choice since.

I am a daughter of these mountains, and of the tales. Once, I wanted to be in the tales themselves. When I was young, I had my part in one—a small part, but important. When I grew older, I had my part in another kind of story. But now I want to become a teller of tales.

Not this time.

watching the undergraduates make out. They laughed, but the sight hurt her, like a tightness in her chest that kept her from breathing freely. How long had it been since she'd kissed anyone?

This was it , a part of him thought--what he had been waiting for, longing for, all his life. The answer to the loneliness he'd felt since he was a child and that others didn't seem to feel.

She had tried not to feel anything about it, because when she allowed herself to, she felt not grief or loss, but only an overwhelming sense of relief.

They would not live happily ever after, because no one did that. But they would be together, and that was enough.

Like most visionaries, he's not particularly observant of the material world.

She could not help feeling a great sadness that he was gone. He was the only person in the world who had known her as a puma. With his death, she had lost a part of herself. And yet, she could not entirely let go of her anger toward him. It was a complicated feeling, and she did not like complicated feelings. Beatrice

You can't trust men with very blue eyes. That should be included in manuals for gentlewomen, right after the chapter on how to get in and out of carriages.

You know, I still don't know whether I loved him or hated him. Loved him, certainly, at first. And then hated him. And now? I don't know. . . . It's complicated.

he had created a monster.