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I do not giggle without purpose. Lady Linette says you should never misapply a giggle.

Gail Carriger

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Gail Carriger
Age: 48
Born: 1976
Born: May 4
Archaeologist
Novelist
Science Fiction Writer
Writer
Bolinas
California
Never
Giggle
Lady
Says
Purpose
Without

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Oh, Lady Maccon, I am unreservedly in love with her. That black hair, that sweet disposition, those capital hats.
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No one ever explained the octopuses.
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I am entirely capable. Of what, waddling up to someone and ruthlessly bumping into them?
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He dinna act like an Alpha. He does in some areas.
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And I find perfect beauty excessively boring, don't you?
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She reached inside the wide ruffle and pulled out a little vial. “Poison?” asked Lady Maccon, tilting her head to one side. “Certainly not. Something far more important: perfume. We cannot very well have you fighting crime unscented, now, can we?” “Oh.” Alexia nodded gravely. After all, Madame Lefoux was French. “Certainly not.
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Lyall understood a broken heart, but it could not be allowed to rumple perfectly good shirtwaists.
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Why did you want to go and distract me like that? I was quite in my element and everything.' Conall laughed. 'Someone has to keep you off balance otherwise you'll end up ruling the empire. Or at least ordering it into wretched submission.
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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.
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There are words to describe her, my dear, but one does not repeat them in polite company.
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Alexia,” she hissed to her friend, “there are knees positively everywhere. What do I do?
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Lord Maccon was built like a brick outhouse, with opinions twice as unmoving and often equally full of crap.
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Miss Tarabotti was not one of life's milk-water misses--in fact, quite the opposite. Many a gentleman had likened his first meeting with her to downing a very strong cognac when one was expecting to imbibe fruit juice--that is to say, startling and apt to leave one with a distinct burning sensation.
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Alexia suspected Lord Maccon's handling was a tad more than was strictly called for under the circumstances, but she secretly enjoyed the sensation. After all, how often did a spinster of her shelf life get manhandled by an earl of Lord Maccon's peerage? She had better take advantage of the situation.
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These feelings you engender in me, my lord, are most indelicate. You should stop causing them immediately.
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Mrs. Loontwill did what any well-prepared mother would do upon finding her unmarried daughter in the arms of a gentleman werewolf: she had very decorous, and extremely loud, hysterics.
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I believe there is a considerable range in the bang of most guns.
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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.
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Uh, my lord, I am not actually food. You do realize this, yes?
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I like fish, chirruped Tunstell. Really, Mr. Tunstell? What is your preferred breed? Well--Tunstell hesitated--you know, the um, ones that--he made a swooping motion with both hands--uh, swim.
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