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Shame can kill the imagination. It's hard to keep writing in the face of cultural derision.

Eloisa James

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Eloisa James
Age: 62
Born: 1962
Born: January 1
Novelist
Professor
Minnesota
United States
Mary Bly
Imagination
Face
Faces
Keep
Hard
Derision
Writing
Cultural
Shame
Kill

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Discretion is a synonym for intelligence.
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Let go of the anger, hang on to the good lessons.
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My duchess,” James stated, his eyes sweeping the crowd with the air of a man who has ruled the waves. “She is not a swan, because that would imply she had once been an ugly duckling.
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You are absolutely beautiful, Anne said. But if you see yourself, you'll want to pin your hair back like a shepherdess in a bad play. (Eleanor) Are you saying that I normally look as if I'm tending sheep? With straw in my hair? As if I might yodel?
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They were partners. She would always make impulsive decisions and he would make slow, reasoned ones. He would always be a little terrified that she would look at him with the scorn he saw in his mother's eyes. And she would always be a little terrified that he would look at her and not love her enough. In short, they were made for each other.
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I don't want to have to earn love by giving up my ability to make decisions that determine how I live.
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If you don't mind a word of advice, one never asks a lady to set her own price. If you have to ask, the answer will always be more than you can afford.
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Here, drink your liqueur, Henry said, tossing back her drink. I carry it with me everywhere because it's the only kind of drink that Leo doesn't like, so there's a chance I'll still have some tomorrow.
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Dogs are high on life. Cats need catnip.
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Life should not be measured by time. The only thing that counts is how one uses the time one has.
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I woke up this morning,” Gabriel said, “thinking of nothing more than rolling over and pulling you into my arms and kissing you again. Kissing: only kissing. As if I were a green boy of fourteen. In case you don’t realize it, Kate, kissing is not a man’s usual inclination in the morning.
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Yes Leopold, Eleanor said in a low, mocking voice. Do start to shine, please. I think I saw the rising, but I definitely missed the shining.
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One more time, she promised herself. That wasn't too trollopy. She wouldn't be too trollopy. But when they actually got to the guardhouse? Trollopy.
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You don't know how easy death is. It's - it's like a door. A person simply walks through it, and she's lost to you forever.
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Some say writing is its own reward. I write for money, but writing for money is not so bad, especially when that writing brings you joy.
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It’s better to live like a flame, to know a man and love him even if he can’t be yours, then never to love at all.
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Where did you go to school?” Piers inquired. “Your all together too literate for a butler. Most bulters I know say things like as you wish, my lord, and leave it at that. Our conversations should be along these lines: Prufrock, bring me a wench and then you would say, as you wish.
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You’re the only one for me. I came back from the dead for you, Daisy. Twice.
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If you throw me out of this house, I shall sleep on the path outside. If you return to the Continent without me, I shall follow you. I will build a willow hut at your gate I will sleep under your window I will be waiting for you at your own front door.
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He's male. I've noticed that sometimes the brains simply get left out of the package.
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