Inspirational quotes by Sherry Thomas.
Sometimes limbs must be re-broken to set properly, her heart too needed to shatter anew before it could truly heal.
Just that I have loved you, even when I was nothing and no one to you, when you didn’t know my name and barely knew my face.- Leo
Some lovers were fortunate enough to grow old together. They’d grown old apart. She did not think him any less handsome. She only wished that she’d been there when the first line on his face had appeared, so that she could have stroked and kissed and cherished it.
I had this daft idea to come and bury the past. Except the past is not quite dead.
To the beginning of the rest of our lives.- Leo
Even the boy who cried wolf as right about the wolf once.
The success of my rule does not rely on my ability to recite obscure Latin verse.
The prince set her down and dismissed his valet. The latter left with a bow and closed the door. Leaning against the wall, the prince pulled off his stockings. As he walked toward the amethyst tub, he yanked his shirt over his head.He was lean and tightly sinewed. Her little bird heart thudded.He glanced at her, his lips curved in not quite a smile. The next thing she knew, his shirt had flown through the air and landed on the cage, blocking her view toward the bathtub.“Sorry, sweetheart. I am shy.”She chirped indignantly. It was not as if she would have continued to watch him disrobe beyond a certain point.
All right, my hope—but I am not saying the rest of it—I have something you need to feel.”She feigned the sound of outrage. “But we barely know each other, sir!”He laughed softly. “But you must hold it in your hand and feel it change,” he urged, in her ear. “I insist. I can wait no longer.”She knew they were on a serious subject, but the flutter of his breath on her skin, the low drawl of his words—heat raced along all her nerve endings. “Will I like it?”“Well, I do have to apologize for its size. It is rather small.” And with that, he pressed something rather small into her hand.
There was no such thing as a marriage with one happy spouse. Both must be or neither.
Even they would think you a monster were you toorchestrate a divorce right after my confinement.”“How long do you recommend I wait, then?”“A long time. I know what happens when a divorce is granted:The woman never gets anything. And I will not be parted from my child.”“So you will contest the divorce?”“To my last penny. And then I’ll borrow from Fitz and Millie.”“So we’ll be married ’til the end of time?”“The sooner you accept it, the sooner we are all better off.”His ancestors would have appreciated her hauteur: a fit wife for a de Montfort. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I must have enough rest.”He gazed at her retreating back. Foolish woman, did she not realize that he’d already accepted it from the moment he’d said “I do”?
He wanted to make cast models of her. He wanted to take a set of precision calipers and measure every distance between her features. He wanted her blood and glandular fluids analyzed by the finest chemists in the world—there must be something detectibly different in her inner workings for him to respond so dramatically, as if he’d been given a drug for which science had yet to find a name.But more than anything, he wanted to—
The next minute he realized what had happened to him, but not before she’d caught him staring.For a decade, I was fixated by her beauty. I wrote an entire article on the evolutionary significance of beauty as a rebuke to myself, that I, who understood the concepts so well, nevertheless could not escape the magnetic pull of one particular woman’s beauty.She knew. With surgical precision, she had peeled back his layers of defenses, until his heart lay bare before her, all its shame and yearning exposed.He could have lived with this if only he’d kept his secret whole and buried. But she knew. She knew.
The explanation for her absence had been staring him in the face all the while, but he hadn’t wanted to acknowledge it: The affair meant nothing to her. He’d been the only one bewitched body and soul. For her, he’d been but a temporary source of entertainment, a way to pass the otherwise tedious hours in the middle of an ocean.He’d been the one to press for a continuation of their affair beyond the voyage. He’d been the one to offer his heart, his hand, his every last secret. She never even gave her real name.And, of course, never showed her face.
For the next three seconds, he still dared to let himself hope.Perhaps she was making a grand entrance. Perhaps she would be carried in like Cleopatra, hidden in a roll of fine carpet.Perhaps—Three porters, grunting, pulled in a handcart.A crevasse opened before him and in fell his heart. No need to remove the tarpaulin wrapping. He recognized the stone slabby its size and weight.She had returned his present. She would have nothing more to do with him.
...So far I have restrained myself. For how much longer, I do not know.I have never known such happiness, shot through with such misery. Only four days have passed, they tell me. But that is not true. It has been decades since I sawyou last.You will find me a stooped old man when we meet again. Perhaps I might even need a pair of spectacles to recognize your veil.But I remain always,Your servant,C.One of Christian's onesided letters to the Baroness
For what is the Void but the beginning of Light? What is Light but the end of Fear? And what am I, but Light given from? What am I, but the beginning of Eternity?
It won’t be disagreeable,” he said. “It can be made quite enjoyable.”“Oh, it had better be,” she said tartly. “I’ve heard plenty over the years on your amatory prowess. If I’m not on the roof crowing, I will consider myself disappointed.
Perhaps you forgave him too much, but who among us would not wish to be so generously loved and generously forgiven?
We are all going to die soon. Do you really wish to waste time being angry at me?""Yes. I remain an unrepentant optimist. If i see that I am about to die, or you, I will forgive you. But not until then, you bastard.
Do not undervalue what you are ultimately worth because you are at a momentary disadvantage.
She had very much looked forward to a word in private with him. But she forgot, as she usually did, the silence that always came between them in these latter years, whenever they found themselves alone.The queer sensation in her chest, however, was all too familiar, that mix of pleasure and pain, never one without the other.She could have done without those feelings. She would have happily gone her entire life never experiencing the pangs of longing and the futility of regret. He made her human—or as human as she was capable of being. And being human was possibly her least favorite aspect of life.
She wanted to run her hands over him as he whispered the impassioned corollaries of non-Euclidean geometry.
Worrying about outcomes over which I have no control is punishing myself before the universe has decided whether I ought to be punished.
As a youth, I listened to the rain from the bowers of pleasure houses,Red silk drapes translucent in the glow of candlelight.In my prime, I listened to the rain as a traveler,The sky low, the river broad, the calls of the wild geese harsh and cold.Now, grey at the temples, I listen to the rain beneath the eaves of an abandoned cloister.Has mine been a futile life?I have no answers, only the sound of raindrops upon worn stone steps,And long hours yet to pass before the light of dawn.
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