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Just be quiet and accept the praise.

Julia Quinn

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Julia Quinn
Age: 54
Born: 1970
Born: January 12
Author
Writer
Evergreen State
Julie Cotler
Julie Pottinger
Praise
Accept
Quiet
Accepting

More quotes by Julia Quinn

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You always get more respect when you don't have a happy ending.
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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.
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When the dead body said, Good evening, Annabel had to face the grim conclusion that it wasn't as dead as she'd hoped.
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It’s a curse, really,” Lady Danbury said. “I’m the only person I know my age who has perfect hearing.” “Most would call that a blessing.” She snorted. “Not with that musicale looming over the horizon.
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I had to do something, she said. I couldn't just sit and wait for life to happen to me any longer.
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There were only so many ways a man‟s heart could break, and he had a feeling his couldn‟t survive another puncture.
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Men. The day they learned to admit to a mistake was the day they became women.
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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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A lot could happen in a week. Just look at the last one.
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I keep waiting for the day in which everyone who loves Downton Abbey will realize they were actually watching a historical romance novel.
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And if you say that's because you lot barged into her home like a herd of mentally deficient sheep, I'm disowning all three of you.
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Elizabeth, you resemble nothing so much as a hen trying to hatch a book.
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This has to be the most self-centered thing I've ever said, but no, I think you just wanted to vex me.
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Interesting, he later reflected, was perhaps not the correct word.By the time he and Henry arrived back at the house for their midday meal-a scrumptious bowl of hot, sticky porridge-he had mucked out the stable stalls, milked a cow, been pecked by three separate hens, weeded a vegetable garden, and fallen into a trough.
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He shook his head in wonder. You are magnificent. I keep telling everyone that, she said with a nonchalant shrug, but you seem to be the only one to believe me.
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No. Haven’t you been listening?” Marcus would always remember that moment. It was to be the first time he would ever be faced with that most vexing of female quirks: the question that had nothing but wrong answers.
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To call that writing, madam, is an insult to quills and ink across the world.
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In every life there is a turning point. A moment so tremendous, so sharp and clear that one feels as if one's been hit in the chest, all the breath knocked out, and one knows, absolutely knows without the merest hint of a shadow of a doubt that one's life will never be the same.
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Do I look like a mess?” she asked. He nodded. “But you’re my mess,” he whispered.
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Any man, you'll soon learn, has an insurmountable need to blame someone else when he is made to look a fool.
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