#katiereads

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"Monseigneur!" She was at his feet, laughing and weeping, his hand to her lips. "You have come! You have come to me!"

"He bent over her, his fingers on her curls.

"Did I not say, ma fille, that I should not lose you very easily."

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"It seems to me," the girl continued, 'as if they sigh because they are very sorry to begin life in earnest- just as we be."

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"Somewhere in the garden a thrush was singing, the joyous sweetness of its note so much in harmony with her mood that it seemed to be part of her happiness. She was content for some moments to listen, not questioning the source of her happiness; but presently she came to full consciousness, and remembered that she had found a friend."

Georgette Heyer, 'Venetia'

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"Like the dew on the mountain,

Like the foam on the river,

Like the bubble on the fountain

Thou art gone and forever."

Sir Walter Scott, "The Lady of the Lake"

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" 'For me,'- she stooped and looking round,

Pluck'd a blue hare-bell from the ground,-

'For me, Whose memory scarce conveys

An image of more splendid days,

This little flower that loves the lea,

May well my simple emblem be;

It drinks heavens due as blithe as a rose

That in the kings own garden grows;

And when I place it in my hair

Allan, a bard is bound to swear

He ne'er saw a coronet so fair.'

Then playfully the chaplet wild

She wreathed in her dark hair and smiled."

"The Lady of the Lake", Sir Walter Scott

[hazeykatie2]

"I shall never get away she thought. I shall never,never get away... And to console herself, she drew in her mind a picture of immortality. Her people were fairy people, with winged feet and flaxen hair; their kingdom was not of the world, nor of heaven either. Their clothes were more colourful, more glittering, more gold, and they walked forever in the sun. One day I'll draw this for children, she said to herself; one day I shall draw what I mean and only children will understand..."

Daphne Du Maurier, "The Parasites"

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"He was sometimes more to me than a human being, he superceded all things: all affections, all interests, all fears or hopes or principles. Unconnected with him, my mind would be a blank- cold, dead, susceptible only of a sense of despair."

Charlotte Brontë, "Mina Laury"

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