I can't get it out," she said.

"Just pull at it."

"It hurts. It's throbbing."

"Pull harder."

"I can't! It's truly stuck. I need something to make it slippery. Do you have some sort of lubricant nearby?"

"No."

"Not anything?"

"Much as it may surprise you, we've never needed lubricant in the library before now.

Lillian tells everyone about her flaws," Daisy said, her brown eyes twinkling. "She's proud of them."
"I do have a terrible temper," Lillian acknowledged smugly. "And I can curse like a sailor."
"Who taught you to do that?" Annabelle asked.
"My grandmother. She was a washerwoman. And my grandfather was the soap maker from whom she bought her supplies. Since she worked near the docks, most of her customers were sailors and dockers, who taught her words so vulgar that it would curl your hair ribbons to hear them.

I want you any way I can get you. Not because you’re beautiful or clever or kind or adorable, although devil knows you’re all those things. I want you because there’s no one else like you, and I don’t ever want to start a day without seeing you.

The prettiest bottle, made of glass molded in a pattern of leaves, was half-filled with a colorless liquor. Her attention was caught by the sight of a pear inside the bottle.
Lifting the bottle, Lillian examined it closely and gently swirled the liquid until the pear lifted and turned with the motion. A perfectly preserved golden pear. This must be a new variety of eau-de-vie, as the French called it... "water of life," a colorless brandy distilled from grapes, plums, or elderberries. Pears as well, it seemed.

As Lillian walked into the orangery, she was suffused in the scent of... oranges. But lemons, bays, and myrtles also cast their fragrance extravagantly through the gently heated air.

You are not a perfect woman.You have an evil temper, you’re as blind as a mole, you’re a deplorable poet, and frankly, your French accent could use some work.” Supporting himself on his elbows, Leo took her face in his hands. “But when I put those things together with the rest of you, it makes you into the most perfectly imperfect woman I’ve ever known.