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"Any man, she muttered, "who wanted to marry into the Hathaway family after this should be shut away in an institution. "Marriage is an institution, he said reasonably, retrieving her gown from the floor."
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"I grew up in an atmosphere tinged with militarism, and afterwards I spent five boring years within the sound of bugles. To this day it gives me a faint feeling of sacrilege not to stand to attention during 'God save the King'. That is childish, of course, but I would sooner have had that kind of upbringing than be like the left-wing intellectuals who are so 'enlightened' that they cannot understand the most ordinary emotions."
"To the traditional Indians, terms such as "intercourse, "penis, "vagina, "clitoris, "semen, "masturbation, "breasts, etc. are exclusive possessions of the night. The traditional Indians perceive these terms as something "dirty. No matter how old they look, they really never grow up to talk and discuss about sex."
"Cultural values change with times, unless they are built on an absolute standard of values and virtues. This standard must be afterwards well-guarded and protected."
"Your insult has offended me. If we were at the Peaks, we would have to duel in traditional alil'tiki'i fashion.""Which is what?" Teft asked. "With spears?"Rock laughed. "No, no. We upon the Peaks are not barbarians like you down here.""How then?" Kaladin asked, genuinely curious."Well," Rock said, "is involving much mudbeer and singing.""How's that a duel?"He who can still sing after the most drinks is winner. Plus, soon' everyone is so drunk that they forget what argument was about."Teft laughed. "Beats knives at dawn, I suppose."
"Even when she had to make some one a present of the kind called 'useful,' when she had to give an armchair or some table-silver or a walking-stick, she would choose 'antiques,' as though their long desuetude had effaced from them any semblance of utility and fitted them rather to instruct us in the lives of the men of other days than to serve the common requirements of our own."
"I reserve magick for necessities, a bit like the good china. It has a time and a place, but eating peanut butter sandwiches off it each morning chips and devalues it."
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"Would it help, he asked gently, "to have a shoulder to cry on? She fought to conceal how much the question unnerved her. "Thank you, but no. Carefully she dropped the herbs into the kettle. "Crying is a waste of time. "' To weep is to make less the depth of grief.' "Is that a Romany saying? "Shakespeare."
"It's the perfect solution. We argue all the time. We can't stand each other. It's like we're already married."
"But Harry . . . even if we had met and married three years ago, you'd still say it wasn't enough time."You're right. I can't think of a single day of my life that wouldn't have been improved with you in it."Darling, she whispered, her fingertips coming up to stroke his jaw, "that's lovely. Even more romantic than comparing me to watch parts.Harry nipped at her finger. "Are you mocking me?"Not at all, Poppy said, smiling. "I know how you feel about gears and mechanisms."
"Honesty is overrated. As someone once said, 'Secrecy is the first essential in affairs of the heart.'""It was the Duc de Richelieu," said Lillian, who had read the same book of philosophy during their schoolroom lessons. "And the accurate quote is, 'Secrecy is the first essential in affairs of the State.'""He was French, though," Daisy argued. "I'm sure he meant the heart as well."Lillian laughed and glanced at her sister affectionately. "Perhaps he did. But I don't want to keep secrets from Lord Westcliff.""Oh, very well. But heed my words- it wouldn't be a true love affair if you didn't have a few little secrets."
"I suppose when you say you slept with him, it was more than just a nap?"Lillian shot her a withering glance. "Daisy, don't be a pea wit."
"I don't really like this song," Emma had said."You told me it was your favourite.""It's beautiful. But it always makes me sad.""Why, love?" he'd asked gently. "It's about finding each other again. About someone coming home."Emma had lifted her head from his shoulder and looked at him earnestly. "It's about losing someone, and having to wait until you're together in heaven.""There's nothing in the lyrics about heaven," he'd said."But that's what it means. I can't bear the idea of being separated from you, for a lifetime or a year or even a day. So you mustn't go to heaven without me.""Of course not," he had whispered. "It wouldn't be heaven without you."
"Every time you look at me, you'll remember that I'm half his.""No." His hand came to the side of her face, his thumb wiping her tears. "You're all mine." His voice was deep and shaken. "Every hair on your head. Every part of you was made to be loved by me."
"Women. You'll interpret anything as love. You see a man wearing an idiotic expression, and you assume he's been struck by Cupid's arrow when in reality, he's digesting a bad turnip."
"I don't think Harry cares about being forgiven," Poppy said glumly."Of course he does. Men love to be forgiven. It makes us feel better about our inability to learn from our mistakes."
"She felt tears slip from beneath her lashes, no matter how she tried to blink them back. Her heart was ablaze. It seemed that her entire life had led to this man, this moment of unexpressed love."
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