And if you ever - and I do mean ever - try to leave me, I’m goin’ with you.

He laced his hands behind his neck and propped his boots on the opposite arm of the sofa. If an artist were to capture this image, it would have been labeled,Smugness: A Portrait. She wanted to shake him.

Yes, and you did it spectacularly. They were the best non words ever not spoken.

You’re my home, Susanna. My home, my heart, my dearest love. Wherever you are, that’s where I belong. Always.” - Victor Bramwell, Earl of Rycliff

Lying on the floor, with the carved panels of the ceiling flickering dimly above, I found myself thinking that I had always heretofore assumed that the tendency of eigh­teenth-century ladies to swoon was due to tight stays; now I rather thought it might be due to the idiocy of eighteenth-century men.

A hedgehog? And just how does a hedgehog make love?" he demanded.

No, I thought. I won't. I will not. But I did. "Very carefully," I replied, giggling helplessly. So now we know just how old that one is, I thought.