Don't You Hate It? Not Ever Saying

I Adore Wilkie Collins,” Tessa Cried. “oh—armadale! And The Woman In White … Are You Laughing At Me?” “not At You,” Said Will, Grinning, “more Because Of You. I’ve Never Seen Anyone Get So Excited Over Books Before. You’d Think They Were Diamonds.” “well, They Are, Aren’t They? Isn’t There Anything You Love Like That? And Don’t Say ‘spats’ Or ‘lawn Tennis’ Or Something Silly.” “good Lord,” He Said With Mock Horror, “it’s Like She Knows Me Already.

You Don't Understand,' She Said, And There Was A Puzzling Trace Of Resentment In Her Voice. 'children Never Do. The Love A Parent Has For A Child, There's Nothing Else Like It. No Other Love So Consuming.

He Was Gazing At Her, The Way One Did When One Felt One Was Unobserved. He Had That Look On His Face, The Look He Usually Got Only When He Was Playing The Violin, As If He Were Completely Caught Up And Entranced.

I Don’t Like Keeping Her In The Dark,” Jace Said. “we’ll Tell Her In A Week. What Difference Does A Week Make?” Jace Gave Him A Look. “two Weeks Ago You Were Dead.” “well, I Wasn’t Suggesting Two Weeks,” Said Sebastian. “that Would Be Insane.

It Was Like A Bad Movie Except He Didn’t Actually Twirl His Mustache.” -jace To Maryse About Valentine, Pg.122-