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It was heaven. Forget angels, forget St. Peter and glittering harpsichords. Heaven was a dance in the arms of one's true love.

Julia Quinn

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Julia Quinn
Age: 54
Born: 1970
Born: January 12
Author
Writer
Evergreen State
Julie Cotler
Julie Pottinger
Dance
Arms
Heaven
Forget
True
Glittering
Love
Peter
Angels
Angel

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She tried to remind herself that beauty was only skin deep, but that didn't offer any helpful excuses when she was berating herself for never knowing what to say to people. There was nothing more depressing than an ugly girl with no personality.
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She had been born for this man, and she had spent so many years trying to accept the fact that he had been born for someone else.
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You don't always have to kiss a lot of frogs to recognize a prince when you find one -Henrietta Barett
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To this day, The Duke and I remains particularly close to my heart I felt it was the novel in which my writing took a huge leap forward.
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A lot could happen in a week. Just look at the last one.
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How do you feel?” she asked, trying to fluff his pillow. “Other than terrible, I mean.” He moved his head slightly to the side. It seemed to be a sickly interpretation of a shrug. “Of course you’re feeling terrible,” she clarified, “but is there any change? More terrible? Less terrible?” He made no response. “The same amount of terrible?
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James - Are you paying attention or just trying to make me look like an idoit? Elizabeth - Oh, I'm definately paying attention. If you look like an idiot it has nothing to do with me.
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You have to live each hour as if it's your last and each day as if you were immortal. - Kate Sheffield
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I shall have one, too, he told her. So that you don't feel alone. She tried not to smile. That is most generous of you. I am quite certain it is my gentlemanly duty. To eat cake? It is one of the more appealing of my gentlemanly duties, he allowed.
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I don't like your tone, was Violet's standard answer when one of her children was winning an argument.
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As his hands moved to his trousers, he saw that she was pulling the bedsheets over her. Don't, he said, barely recognizing his own voice. Her eyes met his, and he said, I'll be your blanket.
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Anthony sneezed and pushed them aside. Mother, I am trying to have a conversation with the duke. Violet looked at Simon. Do you want to have this conversation with my son? Not particularly. Fine, then. Anthony, be quiet.
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Caroline Trent hadn't meant to shoot Percival Prewitt, but she had, and now he was dead. Or at least she thought he was dead.
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There was a certain history to this. While heavily pregnant with Amelia, she had asked him if she was radiant or if she just looked like a waddling duck. He told her she’d looked like a radiant duck. This had not been the correct answer.
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I can imagine no greater bliss than to lie about, reading novels all day.
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Love is blind,” Harriet quipped. “But not illiterate,” Elizabeth retorted.
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He loved her. He wanted her. He needed her. And he needed her now.
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Raw toast, Lucas said grimly, shaking his head. It goes against the very nature of man.
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She smelled like England, of soft rain and sun-kissed meadows. And she felt like the best kind of heaven. He wanted to wrap himself around, bury himself within her, and stay there for all of his days. He hadn’t had a drop to drink in three years, but he was intoxicated now, bubbling with a lightness he’d never thought to feel again.
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There were a lot of things in life to be afraid of, but strangeness ought not be among them.
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