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His eyes are peculiar. There is nothing in them, like an eclair without the cream filling. It's wrong, lack of cream.
Gail Carriger
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Gail Carriger
Age: 48
Born: 1976
Born: May 4
Archaeologist
Novelist
Science Fiction Writer
Writer
Bolinas
California
Peculiar
Lack
Eyes
Wrong
Eye
Without
Eclairs
Nothing
Filling
Like
Cream
More quotes by Gail Carriger
Lord Maccon, might we have words on the proper tying of a cravat? For my sanity’s sake? Lord Maccon was nonplussed. Professor Lyall, on the other hand, was pained. “I do what I can.” Lord Akeldama looked at him, pity in his eyes. “You are a brave man.
Gail Carriger
So, what do you think, my dear, will it be a girl or a boy?” “It will be a soul-stealer, apparently.” “What!” The earl reared away from his wife and looked down at her suspiciously.
Gail Carriger
At such close range, even she could hit a vampire full force in the shoulder, surprising him considerably. He paused in his attack. “Well, my word! You can’t threaten me, you’re pregnant!
Gail Carriger
Poetry can cause irreparable harm when misapplied
Gail Carriger
Ah, Lady Maccon, how lovely. I did wonder when you would track us down.” “I was unavoidably delayed by husbands and Ivys,” explained Alexia. “These things, regrettably, are bound to occur when one is married and befriended.
Gail Carriger
Why? I mean, why you? I can perfectly comprehend not liking my husband. I dislike him intensely most of the time.” Professor Lyall stifled a chuckle. “I am given to understand that he does not approve of spelling one’ s name with two ll’s. He finds it inexcusably Welsh. I suspect he may be quite taken with you, however.
Gail Carriger
Felicity grimaced in agreement. “No, you are perfectly correct. I did not realize how vital the approbation of one’s butler is in allowing for nocturnal autonomy.
Gail Carriger
The duke contents himself mainly with attempting to rule the world and other suchlike nonsense. When one is guiding the patterns of the social universe, a single spinster preternatural is unlikely to cause one undue distress.
Gail Carriger
Very well, Lord Maccon. If we are going to play this particular hand, would you be interested in becoming my...” “Mistress?
Gail Carriger
Madame Lefoux accepted a cup of tea and sat on another little settee, next to the relocated calico cat. The cat clearly believed Madame Lefoux was there to provide chin scratches. Madame Lefoux provided.
Gail Carriger
Classic author moment, Oh dear, did I kill that character or not?
Gail Carriger
Lady Maccon cogitated. She would like to encourage this new spirit of social-mindedness. If Felicity needed anything in her life, it was a cause. Then she might stop nitpicking everyone else.
Gail Carriger
Someone was trying to kill Lady Alexia Maccon. It was most inconvenient, as she was in a dreadful hurry. Given her previous familiarity with near-death experiences and their comparative frequency with regards to her good self, Alexia should probably have allowed extra time for such a predictable happenstance.
Gail Carriger
Captain Niall, having apparently resigned himself to losing his quarry, was savaging her horsehair petticoat into teeny, tiny shreds. Really, what did my poor petticoat do to offend?
Gail Carriger
Highland werewolves had a reputation for doing atrocious and highly unwarranted *things*, like wearing smoking jackets to the dinner table.
Gail Carriger
[She] lost her patience, a thing she was all too prone to misplacing.
Gail Carriger
Oh, dear me, no. Then I should be known as that vampire with all the cats.
Gail Carriger
Alexia, did you know there is an entire regiment decamping on your front lawn? Laddy Maccon sighed. Really, Ivy, I would never have noticed.
Gail Carriger
The Gamma paused. “You have a crazed werewolf in your wine cellar?” “You can think of a better place to stash him?” “What about the wine?
Gail Carriger
His eyes were jet-colored circles of perpetual disapproval.
Gail Carriger