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A vampire, like a lady, never reveals his true age.

Gail Carriger

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Gail Carriger
Age: 48
Born: 1976
Born: May 4
Archaeologist
Novelist
Science Fiction Writer
Writer
Bolinas
California
Like
Reveals
Vampire
Lady
Age
True
Never

More quotes by Gail Carriger

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He was so very large and so very gruff that he rather terrified her, but he always behaved correctly in public, and there was a lot to be said for a man who sported such well-tailored jackets---even if he did change into a ferocious beast once a month.
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I am entirely capable. Of what, waddling up to someone and ruthlessly bumping into them?
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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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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.
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And I find perfect beauty excessively boring, don't you?
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He...boasted an unassuming mustache, which was perched atop his upper lip cautiously, as though it were slightly embarrassed to be there and would like to slide away and become a sideburn or something more fashionable.
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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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A man was attacking me with a wet handkerchief.
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What have I done thins time? he paused to ask before continuing with his oral expedition about her body: her husband, the intrepid explorer.
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But I don't want to be a vampire drone.' Sophronia winced. 'They'll suck my blood and make me wear only the very latest fashions.
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His lordship can eat my fat—
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Cats were not, in her experience, an animal with much soul. Prosaic, practical little creatures as a general rule. It would suit her very well to be thought catlike.
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He is clearly bookish. I did not follow a single word of their conversation at dinner last night, not one jot of it. He must be bookish.
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Oh, dear me, no. Then I should be known as that vampire with all the cats.
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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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Alexia had spent long hours wondering over that mustache. Werewolves did not grow hair, as they did not age. Where had it come from? Had he always had it? For how many centuries had his poor abused upper lip labored under the burden of such vegetation?
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Biffy didn't like enigmas - they were out of fashion.
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[She] lost her patience, a thing she was all too prone to misplacing.
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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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The ill-informed masses included her own family among their ranks, a family that specialized in being both inconvenient and asinine.
Gail Carriger