Sanctuary Grey's Quotes

Now I was more certain than ever of my decision. I could not love a man who did not love Jane Austen.

I would give up everything for you, Giulia" I smiled at him gently. "But you must understand. I should never want a man to give up anything for me. I should want him to feel in winning me he has won the whole world...

Those are facts. Are they the truth? No, for they do not tell you of the heart, and that is where truth lives.

I see only a little, lady, but I know that your fortune is as twined with his as the ivy to the oak.

I put my hands on my hips, not caring if I sounded like a Billingsgate fishwife. “Yes, it was a dangerous thing to do, but as it seems to have escaped your attention, I remind you I am above thirty years of age, of sound body and mind, and in control of my own fortune. That means,” I said, moving closer still, poking his chest for emphasis, “I am mistress of myself and answer to no one.

For where thou art, there is the world itself.

I suppose it is quite certain he is dead?” I asked faintly. “There are bits of him stuck to your shoe,” he remarked, rather unhelpfully.

...it all fell into place and I simply knew, as one knows that fire is hot and sleep is sweet. It was just that sudden, that elemental, and it occurred to me then that the truth is precisely that--elemental. It is the essence of itself; it cannot be argued or winnowed down to something less than what it is.

It will be full dark soon, and I do not like the look of that sky. The temperature is falling as well," he added, rubbing his hands together briskly. "I think we shall be in for a bit of snow from the look of the cloud just over the Downs." Naturally the gentlemen had to spend another quarter of an hour debating the weather as the ladies stood shivering, Portia rolling her eyes at me behind Father's back. In the end they all agreed that, yes, it was indeed growing colder and darker and we ought to depart at once for the Abbey.

Aquinas was a superior servant; he betrayed little reaction to the news that there was a corpse in the chapel. He merely blinked once, slowly, and then crossed himself.

You used to scare me, Draven,” I whispered, skimming my fingers over the back of his neck. He was quiet for a moment. “I know. But I was never your prison. Never your captor. All I've ever wanted was to be your protector. Your sanctuary.” My heart flipped over in my chest. Draven reached out a hand and caressed my hair. “I saw you, and I wanted to consume you. Like a fire that would only burn for me.

Something had shifted between us, faintly, but the change was almost palpable. Our friendship had sat lightly between us, an ephemeral thing, without weight or gravity. Once, in the Boboli Gardens, under the shadow of a cypress tree on an achingly beautiful October afternoon, he had kissed me, a solemnly sweet and respectful kiss. But weeks had passed and we had not spoken of it. I had attributed it to the sunlight, shimmering gold like Danaë's shower, and had pressed it into the scrapbook of memory, to be taken out and admired now and then, but not to be dwelled upon too seriously. Perhaps I had been mistaken.

river meadow.

The first otter to go into deep water had felt the same fear that Tarka felt that night; for his ancestors, thousands of years ago, had been hunters in woods and along the banks of rivers, running the scent of blooded creatures on the earth, like all the members of the weasel race to which they belonged. This race had several tribes in the country of the Two Rivers. Biggest were the brocks, a tribe of badgers who lived in holts scratched among the roots of trees and bushes, and rarely went to water except to drink. They were related to the fitches or stoats, who chased rabbits and jumped upon birds on the earth; and to the vairs or weasels, who sucked the blood of mice and dragged fledgelings from the nest; and to the grey fitches or polecats, so rare in the forests; and to the pine-martens, a tribe so harried by men that one only remained, and he had found sanctuary in a wood where a gin was never tilled and a gun was never fired, where the red deer was never roused and the fox never chased. He was old; his canine teeth worn down. Otters knew the ponds in this wood and they played in them by day, while herons stalked in the shallows and nothing feared the old lady who sometimes sat on the bank, watching the wild creatures which she thought of as the small and persecuted kinsfolk of man.

Personally, I preferred more immediate action than petitioning the Almighty, but I tried very hard not to think less of those who believed differently. We

Life is either far too short or far too long to make yourself miserable.

That’s the trouble with women,” she said. “We know what we oughtn’t do, and yet we do it anyway. Nature has given us instincts, but when a man comes along, we hear only his voice, and not our own

You are maudlin and sentimental, and it is high time you took a rather hard look at yourself and realized you are in danger of becoming ridiculous.

Donald Grey Barnhouse was one who set an example of combining gospel preaching with humble prayer. He often could be found in the sanctuary on Saturdays, kneeling beside each pew, thinking about the people who often sat there, and asking God to bless them with the following day's sermon.

Sir Cedric looked at me appraisingly. "I was quite right about you. You need a husband. Someone with a firm hand to keep you in line. You are far too forward and mannish." I inclined my head graciously. "How kind of you to notice. In that case, permit me to wish you as pleasant a journey as you deserve.

There are few greater pleasures in life than a devoted butler.

Have you not yet learned that villainy is not written on the face, but the heart?

If stubbornness were water, I could sail on you to the ends of the earth.