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And I find perfect beauty excessively boring, don't you?

Gail Carriger

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Gail Carriger
Age: 48
Born: 1976
Born: May 4
Archaeologist
Novelist
Science Fiction Writer
Writer
Bolinas
California
Excessively
Boring
Beauty
Perfect
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More quotes by Gail Carriger

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Alexia gave in to his demanding touch, but only, of course, because he sounded so pathetic. It had nothing, whatsoever to do with her own quickening heartbeat.
Gail Carriger
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I may be a werewolf and Scottish, but despite what you may have read about both, we are not cads!
Gail Carriger
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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
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Hello, princess,” said Lord Maccon to the vampire. “Got yourself into quite a pickle this time, didn't you?” Lord Akeldama looked him up and down. “My sweet young naked boy, you are hardly one to talk. Not that I mind, of course.
Gail Carriger
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Lord Maccon looked up. “Grovel, you say?” Lyall did not glance away from the latest vampire report he was perusing. “Grovel, my lord.
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.
Gail Carriger
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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.
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How ghastly for her, people actually thinking, with their brains, and right next door. Oh, the travesty of it all.
Gail Carriger
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You do realise modern social mores exist for a reason? I was hungry, allowances should be made.
Gail Carriger
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Alphas simply did not grovel arrogance was part of the job description.
Gail Carriger
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These things, regrettably, are bound to occur when one is married and befriended.
Gail Carriger
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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?
Gail Carriger
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Biffy didn't like enigmas - they were out of fashion.
Gail Carriger
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She took a moment to lament her lack of parasol. Every time she left the house, she felt keenly the absence of her heretofore ubiquitous accessory.
Gail Carriger
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No one ever explained the octopuses.
Gail Carriger
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My father, she admitted, was of Italian extraction. Unfortunately, not an affliction that can be cured. She paused. Though he did die.
Gail Carriger
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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.
Gail Carriger
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You are about as covert as a sledgehammer.
Gail Carriger
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His eyes were jet-colored circles of perpetual disapproval.
Gail Carriger
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One should do what one is best at on as large a scale as possible.
Gail Carriger