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Lord Maccon was built like a brick outhouse, with opinions twice as unmoving and often equally full of crap.
Gail Carriger
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Gail Carriger
Age: 48
Born: 1976
Born: May 4
Archaeologist
Novelist
Science Fiction Writer
Writer
Bolinas
California
Bricks
Lord
Crap
Often
Twice
Like
Equally
Opinions
Outhouse
Built
Unmoving
Full
Brick
Opinion
More quotes by Gail Carriger
Ivy waved her wet handkerchief, as much as to say 'words cannot possibly articulate my profound distress'. Then, because Ivy never settled for meaningful gestures when verbal embellishments could compound the effect, she said, Words cannot possibly articulate my profound distress.
Gail Carriger
She moved with such purpose it was as though she walked with exclamation marks.
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
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.
Gail Carriger
Acknowledgements With grateful thanks to the three least-appreciated and hardest-working proselytizers of the written word: independent bookstores, librarians, and teachers.
Gail Carriger
Ever since her trip with Alexia to Scotland, Mrs. Tunstell had rather a taste for foreign travel. Alexia blamed it on the kilts.
Gail Carriger
There are words to describe her, my dear, but one does not repeat them in polite company.
Gail Carriger
She had to give her teachers credit: they were right to insist all pupils carry scissors, handkerchiefs, perfume and hair ribbons at all times. At some point she'd learn why they also required a red lace doily and a lemon.
Gail Carriger
She was no closer to determining who might want her dead. There were just too many possibilities.
Gail Carriger
No one ever explained the octopuses.
Gail Carriger
Lyall had spent centuries nibbling about the great layered cake that was polite society while Lord Akeldama acted the part of the frosting on its top.
Gail Carriger
What do you want? Sophronia was moved to exasperation. Me? Stockings and breeches to come back in fashion. I do miss seeing a man's calves.
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
Alexia,” she hissed to her friend, “there are knees positively everywhere. What do I do?
Gail Carriger
...Tunstell was not what one could describe as call subtle. His flaming red hair bobbed up with each pointed and articulated footstep as though he were some cloaked Gothic villain creeping across a stage.
Gail Carriger
His eyes were jet-colored circles of perpetual disapproval.
Gail Carriger
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.
Gail Carriger
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.
Gail Carriger
As with most things in life, Lady Maccon preferred the civilized exterior to the dark underbelly (with the exception of pork products, of course.)
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