Quotes About Relationship

She helps everybody ... Wait until you are wed. She'll do your breathing for you.

But you do not know me,' Lymond said. 'Whereas I know you exceedingly well. You should be glad. I may well find it tedious; but you should have an extremely interesting journey.

Why are you here?" Silence. Then the boy said slowly, "Because I admire you.

I sometimes wonder," said Francis Crawford, "if I only exist to be sacrificed to." Her heart beating strongly, she watched him. "Perhaps," she said. "But if you accept sacrifices, you must respond with acts of reparation.

Philippa … release me from my promise.' She put her hands over her mouth, and then took them away. 'I can't. I can't.' He had pulled his own hands down, looking still at the stool, his face quite turned away. 'You can. Philippa. Please let me go.'

You wouldn't expect me to make social calls if you had the remotest idea of the work entailed in bringing two unfortunate persons to the altar.' Careless words. 'It takes ten minutes, in my experience,' Lymond said.

The child, level with the kneeling man, had moved nearer, his eyes wide, his face uplifted as if to embrace him. Before he could touch him, Lymond rose, and, looking down, smiled. 'Keep thy kisses. Thou art almost a man; and a man chooses to kiss only the persons he loves. Then thy kiss will be a big gift indeed.

Archie?' said Lymond. 'It is half past four o'clock in the morning, and I am exceedingly drunk. Do you suppose these two statements have anything to do with each other?' 'No,' said Archie tolerantly. 'And neither will you, come the morning.

He gave her his hand as she stepped up beside him. He said, 'I thought it was going to take twenty-five years.' 'It probably will,' Gelis said. 'But I thought I should like to spend them with you.' He

How old do you think he is?' said Sybilla placidly. 'To tell you the truth, I don't want him hanging about my petticoats for the rest of my life. He is, you must admit, a little disruptive in the home.

He and Richard had met on the strand at Philorth and like the sand under their feet, all the muddled solicitude which had prompted that journey had in five minutes dispersed through their fingers.

She said peevishly, 'Do you consider I'm old enough to stop calling you Mr Crawford?' 'No,' said Mr Crawford shortly. 'What alternatives would you suggest? Master? Uncle?' 'That would certainly unsettle the Maréchale, for one,' said Philippa more cheerfully.

I showed you your face in the mirror. It was not only the face of one who loves, but the face of one whose love is returned.

How about that, my own brother, my own bright light, thou Igor?

It was odd, Adam thought, that Lymond's harshest opponent should be his brother, and that each man had such power to hurt the other.

Richard's angry grey eyes … honest grey eyes … were looking at him. Sybilla was not watching. He supposed she knew that however near he might tread to the crevasse, he did not mean to fall in, and drag Richard with him. Instinct had been right, when last year he had fled such a confrontation. As no living soul could hurt him, Sybilla could.

That way, that sunlit, gentle path was set with mines, and had at the end of it a chasm she could not contemplate. So she hid her impulse, and did not know, because he was better at concealment than she, that he had noticed it.

Remember, some live all their lives without discovering this truth; that the noblest and most terrible power we possess is the power we have, each of us, over the chance-met, the stranger, the passer-by outside your life and your kin. Speak, she said, as you would write: as if your words were letters of lead, graven there for all time, for which you must take the

I like to crawl away and hide in a corner. Well, he said, with a transitory gleam of himself, you're my corner and I've come to hide.

I suppose one oughtn't to marry anybody, unless one's prepared to make him a full-time job." "Probably not; though there are a few rare people, I believe, who don't look on themselves as jobs but as fellow creatures.

It has been said, by myself and others, that a love-interest is only an intrusion upon a detective story. But to the characters involved, the detective-interest might well seem an irritating intrusion upon their love-story.

And by the way, my dear,' he said, 'you might just mention to Mrs. Sutton that if she must read the morning paper before I come down, I should be obliged if she would fold it neatly afterwards.' 'What an old fuss-box you are, darling,' said his wife. Mr. Mummery sighed. He could not explain that it was somehow important that the morning paper should come to him fresh and prim, like a virgin. Women did not feel these things. (Suspicion)

It will be sent that, although the writer's love is verily a jealous love, it is a jealousy for and not of his creatures. He will tolerate no interference either with them or between them and himself.

Peter: Oy! Harriet: Hullo! Peter: I just wanted to ask whether you'd given any further thought to that suggestion about marrying me. Harriet (sarcastically) : I suppose you were thinking how delightful it would be to go through life together like this? Peter: Well, not quite like this. Hand in hand was more my idea. Harriet: What is that in your hand? Peter: A dead starfish. Harriet: Poor fish! Peter: No ill-feeling, I trust? Harriet: Oh, dear no.