Quotes from Kathleen Tessaro

She had gleaming mahogany hair, cut into a sharp, sleek bob and eyes that were the colour of dark chocolate – huge doe eyes framed by black lashes. Her skin was ivory and her proportions amazing; a thin tapered waist, high full breasts, shapely legs. She walked with such casual sensuality that it was impossible not to stare at her. And she was a woman who was used to being stared at.

when in doubt, act like you know what you're doing, and you'll be treated like you do.

Warm in the sun, freezing in the shade, it was a season of extremes.

I believe it's a privilege, madam. One that's earned through a certain amount of courage and adversity.

Sometimes I wonder if we don't hold our hatreds closer than our loves.

Do you know what this dress is for?' Miss Waverly whispered. Eva shook her head. 'Seduction!' The word disturbed Eva; it was laden with the murky enticements of sin, dangerous moral ambiguity and the certain promise of future remorse. But even worse than that was the implication of mysterious skills that remained beyond her comprehension.

Around her the tables were filling with people, tourists planning their next stop over a coffee, businessmen meeting for luncheon, well-heeled women taking a break from their sprees, leaning in to gossip with one another, shopping bags piled at their feet.

Men don't like clever wives, they like charming ones!

Most people assume that a muse is a creature of perfect beauty, poise and grace. Like the creatures from Greek mythology. They're wrong. In fact, there should be a marked absence of perfection in a muse – a gaping hole between what she is and what she might be. The ideal muse is a woman whose rough edges and contradictions drive you to fill in the blanks of her character. She is the irritant to your creativity. A remarkable possibility, waiting to be formed.

Maybe we need to literally come to our senses, to return to our sense of taste, touch, sight, smell, hearing and find sustenance in them, inspiration. Life is, after all, a sensual experience. Our senses have the power to truly transport us but also to ground us. Make us human.

Eva was assigned to learn her duties from Rita Crane, an older woman of indeterminate age and one of the world's most unsuccessful secret drinkers.

Turner watercolour

We try and we fail, like archers who aim for the target but fall short of the mark.' ... 'When you are older and have swum out into the stream of life, you'll see -- there are no "good" people, little girl. We're all trying and failing, trying too hard and failing too often. Remember that. We shouldn't judge too harshly, in the end, the sins of others.

Perfume should tell a story –

Please tell me it's going to rain today, Francois.' 'Ah!' he smiled. (This was obviously familiar territory.) 'I regret to inform you that the forecast calls for nothing but sunshine.' 'Relentless sunshine,' she corrected him.

We try and fail, like archers who aim for the target but fall short of the mark.' Eva watched as she removed the lace shawl. 'When you are older and have swum out into the stream of life, you'll see – there are no "good" people, little girl. We're all trying and failing, trying too hard and failing too often. Remember that. We shouldn't judge too harshly, in the end, the sins of others.

After all, if I started confiding my innermost problems to someone, I'd have to do something about them. And I'm not ready for that yet.

One often meets one's fate on the road one takes to avoid it.

The dawning of morn, the daylight's sinking, The night's long hours still find me thinking, Of thee, thee, only thee.' Huge

There are no elegant potatoes.

Innocence is attractive in children but it makes brittle, disappointed adults.

what they mean by 'love conquers all.' It doesn't transcend life. But it gives it integrity, a noble aim, no matter what the result.

Father Paul was at the start of life. His glassy convictions needed protection. They waited patiently until he too, succumbed to the unbearable unevenness of God's will, the sureness of his grace, the darkness of his mercy.

Sis took Eva to the public library and showed her how to get a card. Every week, Eva read her way through the works of Charles Dickens, Jane Austen, Anthony Trollope, Henry James and Elizabeth Gaskell. She dreamed of heroines from modest backgrounds attracting unprecedented attentions, soaring tales of love across social divides and sudden unexpected reversals of fortunes. In these pages, anything was possible, even for a girl like her.