She laughed, and the sound pierced his heart.

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

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 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.

it is what it is

Destiny is a tower of cards - nudge one just an inch and everything stacked on top comes crashing down. P116

I do think British and American politics rhyme. They go in cycles. They go in Thatcher-Reagan cycles, Blair-Clinton cycles.

Nearly 180,000 illegal immigrants with criminal records, ordered deported from America, are tonight roaming free to threaten peaceful citizens.

The best way to avoid a hangover is to stay drunk.

Sometimes you’re just the sweetest thing. Like Christmas, summer vacation, and a brand-new puppy rolled into one.

History gives us a kind of chart, and we dare not surrender even a small rushlight in the darkness. The hasty reformer who does not remember the past will find himself condemned to repeat it.

Sometimes the essay is where we end up when everything that we know must change.

There's no rule, no law, no regulation that says you can't come back. So I have every right to come back.

Why waste good shots in practice when you might need them in a match?