She had a good, strong voice. She smiled with her voice, too. This, he thought, was the magic that had drawn him to her.

Her smile hollowed out his chest. She’d changed since last he saw her. She was brighter. More vibrant. Happiness suited her.

Her gaze collided with the duke’s. His eyes were a clear, pale green. Why was he staring so intently when there was hardly another woman less interesting than she?

You are walking to Hope Springs?” “Yes, Your Grace.” “In this weather?” She glanced around and gave him a smile. “I haven’t any other weather to walk in.

She laughed, and the duke might actually have smiled, though one could never be certain.

He remounted. “I will ride with you.” With some effort, he gentled his voice. “If that would be agreeable to you.” “How kind of you. Thank you.

She laughed, and the sound pierced his heart.

Music is everybody's business. It's only the publishers who think people own it

It is true that too much belief can be bad for your health.

I'm a little nervous of older male fans.

The President is going to benefit from me reporting directly to him when I arrive.

You're so square, baby, I don't care.

But how is the artist to protect himself against the corruption of the age which besets him on all sides?

Especially with girls, people always want to put them in little brackets.

The only proper way to eliminate bad habits is to replace them with good ones.

No other acoustic instrument can match the piano's expressive range, and no electric instrument can match its mystery.

Almost all serious stories in the world are stories of failure with a death in it. But there is more lost paradise in them than defeat.