Newbury Quotes

Coming forward with a placating smile, Win handed him a piece of paper. "Of course we would never want to force you into a loveless marriage, dear. But we have put together a list of prospective brides, all of them lovely girls. Won't you take a glance and see if any of them appeals to you?" Deciding to humor her, Leo looked down at the list. "Marietta Newbury?" "Yes," Amelia said. "What's wrong with her?" "I don't like her teeth." "What about Isabella Charrington?" "I don't like her mother." "Lady Blossom Tremaine?" "I don't like her name." "Oh, for heaven's sake, Leo, that's not her fault." "I don't care. I can't have a wife named Blossom. Every night I would feel as if I were calling in one of the cows." Leo lifted his gaze heavenward. "I might as well marry the first woman off the street. Why, I'd be better off with Marks." Everyone was silent.

Watership Down is a real place, like all the places in the book. It lies in north Hampshire, about six miles southwest of Newbury and two miles west of Kingsclere.

But time is a cruel mistress, and it was not until much years later that she would learn the truth: that there is no such thing as salvation, an escape is only ever an illusion conjured up by the hopeful.

The sun was a watery, baleful eye that glared down at the Thames through a bruised eyelid of rain clouds

You have to have someone in your life you care about more than yourself.

Be in your body, not in your head.

Shit! Had I just sort-of-kind-of asked if she was single?

What day is it?” he panted. “Thursday!” “Friday.” He shrugged. “Feck it. Close enough.

For a country run by a woman, Britain was still a nation in awe of its men.

Meanwhile, Quakers used outrageous behavior to draw more attention to their beliefs and provoke a response. A Quaker man walked into a Boston church holding a bottle in each hand, then smashed them to the floor; he shouted, “Thus will the Lord break all to pieces!” A Quaker woman stripped herself naked and paraded through the Newbury church during worship. Another Quaker woman paraded nude through the streets of Boston.

desire to answer the incessant ring of the cell phone he’d ignored since yesterday. Rather than turning it off, he’d muffled the noise by burying the device deep within a coat pocket, maintaining the connection to his life like a distant beacon. Despite the oppressive heat, he paused at the bottom stair of his old brownstone. There was nothing spectacular about it, outside of its location near the upbeat Newbury Street. If he remembered

You know,’ he said, ‘there are things that won’t do for Newbury Street—things that are out of place here, and that can’t be conceived here, anyhow. It’s my business to catch the overtones of the soul, and you won’t find those in a parvenu set of artificial streets on made land. Back Bay isn’t Boston—it isn’t anything yet, because it’s had no time to pick up memories and attract local spirits. If there are any ghosts here, they’re the tame ghosts of a salt marsh and a shallow cove; and I want human ghosts— the ghosts of beings highly organized enough to have looked on hell and known the meaning of what they saw.

Once upon a time, before the boys were killed and when there were more horses than cars, before the male servants disappeared and they made do, at Upleigh and at Beechwood, with just a cook and a maid, the Sheringhams had owned not just four horses in their own stable, but what might be called a 'real horse', a racehorse, a thoroughbred. Its name was Fandango. It was stabled near Newbury. It had never won a damn thing. But is was the family's indulgence, their hope for fame and glory on the racecourses of southern England. The deal was that Pa and Ma - otherwise known in his strange language as 'the shower' - owned the head and body and he and Dick and Freddy had a leg each. 'What about the fourth leg?' 'Oh the fourth leg. That was always the question.

scorching wind that seemed to slam me back against the restroom door. I tried to take a breath and found I couldn’t. My chest was tight, my eyes wide. The heat inside me went lava-hot, a crashing, scorching waterfall that slammed straight down to my groin. I’d never in my life felt such want. He wanted me. I looked deliberately away and then back. I tried to reduce him to something ordered, to a description. Six-four. Dark hair. Blue eyes—It didn’t work. The words were boxes into which this man refused to be stuffed. He wasn’t six-four. He was just big, big like the mountains outside were big. His hair wasn’t dark, it wasn’t some

As promised, I hope this painting finds you well. Such a beautiful picture deserves an equally beautiful frame, and while I cannot claim to be perfect, I tried my best to craft something deserving of the honor. I found this wood from a felled tree in the grove, where we so often met, and where I fell utterly and entirely in love with you. Please do not feel sorry for me. I am happy to have known you at all. Happy to have helped you in some small way in your journey. You certainly inspired me in mine. And so, I wanted to thank you, dearest Ros, you brilliant, beautiful girl, for being true to who you are. What a list you created! I can only imagine what more you will do and see and become. I do wish I could have withheld my affection only if it meant that you and I could maintain a comfortable friendship.

friends for?” Lily

I had to beat the train. That was my only chance: beat the train to the next station and get on. I checked the screens. The train had left Penn Station at exactly 2pm. It stopped at Newark Penn Station at twelve minutes past. I had less than twelve minutes to save her.

Animals are driven by instincts and needs: food, shelter, safety. People, though—they’re just a mess of contradictions

I cannot explain what's between us, Lady Newbury, other than to say that I have an uncanny urge to kiss you whenever we meet.

The elders, being met at Boston about this matter, sent some of their company to acquaint the old governor with their desire, and the reasons moving them, clearing themselves of all dislike of his government, and seriously professing their sincere affections and respect towards him, which he kindly and thankfully accepted, concurring with them in their motion, and expressing his unfeigned desire of more freedom, that he might a little intend his private occasions, wherein (they well knew) how much he had lately suffered (for his bailiff, whom he trusted with managing his farm, had engaged him £2500 without his privity) in his outward estate. This they had heard of, and were much affected therewith, and all the country in general, and took course, (the elders agreeing upon it at that meeting,) that supply should be sent in from the several towns, by a voluntary contribution, for freeing of those engagements; and the court (having no money to bestow, and being yet much indebted) gave his wife three thousand acres of land, and some of the towns sent in liberally, and some others promised, but could perform but little, and the most nothing at all. The whole came not to £500 whereof near half came from Boston, and one gentleman of Newbury, Mr. Richard Dummer, propounded for a supply by a more private way, and for example, himself disbursed £100.

Upon the warrant which went to Ipswich, Rowley, and Newbury, to disarm Passaconamy, who lived by Merrimack, they sent forth 40 men armed the next day, being the Lord’s day. But it rained all the day, as it had done divers days before, and also after, so as they could not go to his wigwam, but they came to his son’s and took him, which they had warrant for, and a squaw and her child, which they had no warrant for, and therefore order was given so soon as we heard of it, to send them home again.

Burghfield Bridge Mobile Tyres offer flawless 24 hour mobile car tyre services in Reading, Newbury, Bracknell and throughout Berkshire. We offer the following car tyre services; tyre fitting, new tyres, budget tyres, part worn tyres, puncture repairs, wheel alignment and mobile tyre fitting. Visit our 24 hour tyre fitting or mobile tyre fitting pages for more information on our tyre services.

Ali, what’s that tune?” asked Barthol. I suspected he sensed my nervousness. “I like it.” I smiled. He and I had the same taste in music. “Something I found on an old flash drive I bought on Newbury Street. Don’t know the title, but the file was called RickRoll.mp3.” “Oh, I’ve heard of Rick Roll. He was super popular before Ragnarok. It’s wild that you have music from a thousand years ago, isn’t it?

Leo stared at them all blankly in the expectant silence. A disbelieving laugh escaped him. “You’re all mad if you think I’m going to be forced into a loveless marriage just so the family can continue living at Ramsay House.” Coming forward with a placating smile, Win handed him a piece of paper. “Of course we would never want to force you into a loveless marriage, dear. But we have put together a list of prospective brides, all of them lovely girls. Won’t you take a glance and see if any of them appeals to you?” Deciding to humor her, Leo looked down at the list. “Marietta Newbury?” “Yes,” Amelia said. “What’s wrong with her?” “I don’t like her teeth.” “What about Isabella Charrington?” “I don’t like her mother.” “Lady Blossom Tremaine?” “I don’t like her name.” “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Leo, that’s not her fault.” “I don’t care. I can’t have a wife named Blossom. Every night I would feel as if I were calling in one of the cows.” Leo lifted his gaze heavenward. “I might as well marry the first woman off the street. Why, I’d be better off with Marks.” Everyone was silent. Still tucked in the corner of the room, Catherine Marks looked up slowly as she realized that she was the focus of the Hathaways’ collective gaze. Her eyes turned huge behind the spectacles, and a tide of pink rushed over her face. “That is not amusing,” she said sharply. “It’s the perfect solution,” Leo said, taking perverse satisfaction in annoying her. “We argue all the time. We can’t stand each other. It’s like we’re already married.” Catherine sprang to her feet, staring at him in outrage. “I would never consent to marry you.” “Good, because I wasn’t asking. I was only making a point.” “Do not use me to make a point!” She fled the room, while Leo stared after her. “You know,” Win said thoughtfully, “we should have a ball.” “A ball?” Merripen asked blankly. “Yes, and invite all the eligible young women we can think of. It’s possible one of them will strike Leo’s fancy, and then he could court her.” “I’m not going to court anyone,” Leo said. They all ignored him. “I like that idea,” Amelia said. “A bride-hunting ball.” “It would be more accurate,” Cam pointed out dryly, “to call it a groom-hunting ball. Since Leo will be the item of prey.” “It’s just like Cinderella,” Beatrix exclaimed. “Only without the charming prince

geek.

Even in her heeled ankle boots, she was six inches shorter than me. Her? She’s the big threat?! I glanced down at my combat gear, feeling ridiculous. I lowered the shotgun and took out a set of handcuffs. She looked at them and raised one perfect eyebrow. “My safeword is Cincinnati.

Well, I’ll be here waiting,” she said softly. “With a plate of sandwiches in the refrigerator, a bottle of red on the table and me in that green silky robe and the black underwear with the little gold chains.” I growled appreciatively and she giggled. “Is someone getting excited?” “Hell yeah. You know how long it’s been since I had a good sandwich?

It was impossible. That part of me was broken, had been since I was a kid. But it had happened anyway. I didn’t just care for her or like her or want to protect her. I was in love with her.

The guy was a gentleman, in a rough, filthy, blue collar kind of a way.

Newbury Street was the tony promenade listed in every Boston guidebook, beginning downtown at the Public Garden and riding out in orderly alphabetical blocks, Arlington to Berkeley to Clarendon, all the way to Hereford before skipping impatiently to M, the broad Massachusetts Avenue that formed the unofficial western border of the Back Bay. Newbury Street continued beyond that dividing line, but with its spirit broken, forced to run alongside the ugly turnpike more or less as a back alley for Commonwealth Avenue, its humiliation ending at the suicide bridge.

Somehow, despite starting out thousands of miles apart, we’d found exactly the person we each needed.

She was nothing like me: she was as city as I was country and we were on opposite sides of the law. And yet...the way her body fitted against mine was just perfect, like we’d been built for each other. She was the softness I needed...but she had the stubborn streak she needed to break through to me when any sane woman would have given up.

She remembered asking, as they headed towards Newbury, if this was where Watership Down had been set. Jack had laughed – ‘European Capital of the Hunt’ he called it. ‘Wall-to-wall fascists’. Then he slipped seamlessly into one of his tirades against the ‘landed gentry’ and the hypocrisy which underpinned their supposed love of the countryside. All that was missing was the T-shirt: FUCK THE RABBITS!

There were fewer finer things in life, in Newbury's humble opinion, than spending time perusing the shelves of a good bookshop.

You’re all mad if you think I’m going to be forced into a loveless marriage just so the family can continue living at Ramsay House.” Coming forward with a placating smile, Win handed him a piece of paper. “Of course we would never want to force you into a loveless marriage, dear. But we have put together a list of prospective brides, all of them lovely girls. Won’t you take a glance and see if any of them appeals to you?” Deciding to humor her, Leo looked down at the list. “Marietta Newbury?” “Yes,” Amelia said. “What’s wrong with her?” “I don’t like her teeth.” “What about Isabella Charrington?” “I don’t like her mother.” “Lady Blossom Tremaine?” “I don’t like her name.” “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Leo, that’s not her fault.” “I don’t care. I can’t have a wife named Blossom. Every night I would feel as if I were calling in one of the cows.” Leo lifted his gaze heavenward. “I might as well marry the first woman off the street. Why, I’d be better off with Marks.” Everyone was silent. Still tucked in the corner of the room, Catherine Marks looked up slowly as she realized that she was the focus of the Hathaways’ collective gaze. Her eyes turned huge behind the spectacles, and a tide of pink rushed over her face. “That is not amusing,” she said sharply. “It’s the perfect solution,” Leo said, taking perverse satisfaction in annoying her. “We argue all the time. We can’t stand each other. It’s like we’re already married.” Catherine sprang to her feet, staring at him in outrage. “I would never consent to marry you.” “Good, because I wasn’t asking. I was only making a point.

History is the greatest book of all time. It is time.

Gareth strode straight up to Lucien, seized his shoulder and spun him roughly around on his heel. The pistol went flying from the dummy's wooden hand. "I beg your pardon," Lucien said, raising his brows at Gareth's open display of hostility. "Where is she?" The duke turned back to his target and calmly reloaded his pistol. "Probably halfway to Newbury by now, I should think," he said, mildly. "Do go away, dear boy. This is no sport for children like yourself, and I wouldn't want you to get hurt." The condescending remark cut deep. Gareth marched around to face his brother. They were of equal height, equal build, and almost of equal weight, and his blue eyes blazed into Lucien's black ones as he seized the duke's perfect white cravat and yanked him close. Lucien's eyes went cold, and he reached up and caught Gareth's wrist in an iron grip of his own. All civility vanished. "Don't push me," the duke warned, menacingly. "I've had all I can take of your childish pranks and degenerate friends." "You dare call me a child?" "Yes, and I will continue to do so as long as you continue to act like one. You are lazy, feckless, dissolute, useless. You are an embarrassment to this family — especially to me. When you grow up and learn the meaning of responsibility, Gareth, perhaps I shall treat you with the respect I did your brother." "How dare you talk to me of responsibility when you banish an innocent young woman to fend for herself, and she with a six-month-old baby who happens to be your niece!  You're a cold-hearted, callous, unfeeling bastard!" The duke pushed him away, lifting his chin as he repaired the damage to his cravat. "She was handsomely paid. She has more than enough money to get back to those godforsaken colonies from which she came, more than enough to see herself and her bastard babe in comfort for the rest of her life. She is no concern of yours." Bastard babe. Gareth pulled back and sent his fist crashing into Lucien's jaw with a force that nearly took his brother's head off. The duke staggered backward, his hand going to his bloodied mouth, but he did not fall. Lucien never fell. And in that moment Gareth had never hated him more. "I'm going to find her," Gareth vowed, as Lucien, coldly watching him, took out a handkerchief and dabbed at his mouth. "And when I do, I'm going to marry her, take care of her and that baby as Charles should have done — as it's our duty to do. Then I dare you to call me a child and her little baby a bastard!" He spun on his heel and marched back across the lawn. "Gareth!" He kept walking. "Gareth!" He swung up on Crusader and thundered away.   ~~~~

I’m a librarian. He owns dynamite.

Those guys are going to kill me, so if you’ve got any feelings for me whatsoever, you kiss me right now because this is our last chance and I don’t want to leave this world without knowing what it’s like to kiss you.

He was smiling at me, which didn’t make sense. Guys don’t smile at me. Guys don’t notice me.

But I was enthralled and, as I kept nodding her on, her shyness dropped away and she came alive. She didn’t just tell me about the book, she told me about why she loved it so much, how it transported her away. I’d never known a book could do that. “I’m going to have to read it,” I told her.

looks. But I was enthralled and, as I kept nodding her on, her shyness dropped away and she came alive. She didn’t just tell me about the book, she told me about why she loved it so much, how it transported her away. I’d never known a book could do that. “I’m going to have to read it,” I told her.

She did that a lot, mumbling or muttering. Like she was worried someone might notice her if she made too much noise.