Steampunk Quotes

Steampunk is...the love child of Hot Topic and a BBC costume drama

I like a little fight in my girls." She grinned at him,causing blood to dribble down her chin. "Then you're going to love me.

Don't mistake me, Treasure. I can offer you many things, but friendship ain't one of them. Now, for once in your life, be a sensible girl and run away.

Steampunk is...a joyous fantasy of the past, allowing us to revel in a nostalgia for what never was. It is a literary playground for adventure, spectacle, drama, escapism and exploration. But most of all it is fun!

OMG YOU GUYS it has come to my attention that SOMEONE on the internet is saying that my fictional 19th century zombies are NOT SCIENTIFICALLY SOUND. Naturally, I am crushed. To think, IF ONLY I’d consulted with a zombologist or two before sitting down to write, I could’ve avoided ALL THIS EMBARRASSMENT.

Steampunk is nothing more than what happens when Goths discover brown.

What's the matter with her? [Jasper] asked Griffin. Griffin shook his head. 'Nothing. She's just two personas struggling for dominance in one body.' [Jasper] ... Poor little thing.

As frightening as we may think her, I believe she finds herself even more so.

I cannot tell my heart what to feel.

Don't you dare die. You have to live so I can curse you up and down for scaring me like this

Who do you think keeps this country safe so you can sleep at night?” “I don’t sleep most nights. And to be honest, Your Grace, I don’t feel all that safe.

Finley hesitated. Maybe he’d move out of her way and let her pass. Or a voice in her head whispered—her voice—you could kick his teeth in.

Don’t cry, Treasure. You’ll get me all wet and then I’ll melt. I’m made of sugar, don’t you know.

But I don't want to be a vampire drone.' Sophronia winced. 'They'll suck my blood and make me wear only the very latest fashions.

Jasper waited until the man was gone before asking, “You ever get tired of folks puckerin’ up to your backside?” Griffin faced him with mock gravity. “Yes. It is deuced tiring, people doing whatever I wish. Makes my life so very disagreeable.

I like stories about supervillains. They teach children that you can accomplish great things even when the whole world is against you.

There were some problems only coffee and ice cream could fix.

You’re not going to take advantage of me, are you?” The cushions felt so nice behind her head. It was so nice to lie down. “Novels are always warning young women of the dangers of being taken advantage of by wealthy young men.” “You are perfectly safe. Emily is here to protect your virtue.” “That’s too bad.

She didn’t want to believe the pretty gentleman capable of such violence, but she had learned the hard way that pretty gentlemen were often the worst of the lot.

I do hope you’re using that thing to look at photographs of Moulin Rouge ladies as a young man your age should, and not hunting down another bothersome criminal.

I am tempted to incapacitate him with the hemlock and then castrate him.” Lena paled. “I don’t think that would be very wise,” she said. “And the only knife we own is what I use for the cooking. You’re not using that.” “I was planning on using a spoon,” Honoria replied.

This is delicious,” she said, when she finally recovered enough to speak. Jack was watching her in a curious manner. “You could have ’em every morning if you want.

A clockwork heart can't replace the real thing.

Steampunk is Victorian science fiction

It was a terrible time to realize you were falling in love with someone - when you were kissing another bloke

Humanity, I’m sure I do not have to tell Your Grace, is a strange animal.

You're staring." "Can't 'elp meself, he replied. You were made to be stared at.

What I have is hardly a talent,” she replied. A curse, perhaps. More than likely a demon. What she needed was a good exorcism.

You're not a distraction, you're a bloody obsession.

There were moments in a person's life that they would carry with them until their dying day, and Finely knew the moment Jasper's heart broke would be one of those for her.

You didn’t discover a secret passage into someone’s palace and not tell them everything you knew about it.

So, did you hold back during that test?" "Maybe a little," Sophronia admitted. Soap grinned. "That's my girl." Sophronia glared at him. He was getting familiar. "You are, miss." He continued to grin. "I'm my own girl, thank you very much.

Why is it I only get to see you with your shirt off when you're hurt?

You think I pretend weakness?" She nodded. "Not weakness, but you like to let others think they're in control, when it's you.

Indeed. I have often thought that when a man selects one word over another he often reveals far more of himself than he intended.

You aligned yourself with the wron fella and there were consequences. Now you can wallow in it, or you can pull that thick head of yours out of your posterior and help us figure out how to fix things.

...you shouldn’t have put yourself in that kind of danger for me.” He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye—she knew this because she was doing the same to him. “If not for you, then for whom?” he asked softly.

I'm not going to be a distraction for you, or allow you to be one for me." "A distraction?" He folded his arms across his chest. "Is that what you think you are? What I am? Bloody hell, woman. I need something to distract me from you!

Just roll me in fairy dust and call me a unicorn.

What would I do without you to give me clarity?" "I imagine you'd suffocate yourself by shoving your head too far up your own backside.

Finely dropped her head, squeezed her eyes shut and began silently to do what some might call praying, she called it begging.

What I want from you,” he said, and Finley braced herself, “is your trust. Irrevocable and unshakable. I want you to put your life in my hands, and I want to be able to do the same without hesitation.” Disturbed to her very soul, Finley could only shake her head. “You ask too much.” Put his life in her hands? He was deranged! A bedlamite for certain. A crooked grin curved his mouth. “Too much? You strange and wonderful girl, that is the least I’ll ask of you.

Finley’s head jerked up. Griffin King. The Duke of Greythorne. She had overheard Lady Alyss discussing him with several of her friends just last week. They said he was handsome, rich beyond understanding and had a nice bottom.

Supervillain" means never having to say you're sorry

The Machinist ain’t exactly loquacious when it comes down to his nefarious undertakings.

Looking up, he met her startled gaze. 'Let down your guard, Honor. Let me in. Let me love you.' He kissed her lips, tasted the sweetness of her breath. 'Trust me. I won't ever 'urt you.

You want a torch or a candle, maybe? You've got your head so far up your own arse, it must be dark in there." -Sam

Griffin!” Finley cried. She moved to attack the automaton, but Sam stopped her. “Wait. Griff’s got a plan.” “How do you know?” she demanded. Sam and Jasper both looked at her with bemused expressions. “Griff’s always got a plan,” Jasper informed her, as though it was absolute fact.

What am I?" She grinned. "A pain in my posterior." He smiled, too, crinkles forming around his eyes. "I like your posterior." "Yours isn't too shabby, either." "Answer the question." "I thought I had.

I won't keep you from your beauty rest for long, Jack," Finley shot back as she strode into the drawing room. (...) "I should 'ope not, luv. It takes a lot of rest to be this gorgeous.

If the city of London was a body, Whitechapel would be the groin; a great unwashed area that only showed itself under the cover of darkness, and only for the most salacious of entertainments. No one of “proper” birth ever admitted to going there, but they all did at one time or another—or at least they wanted to. Slumming was very popular these days.

Dandy?" Sam was full-on scowling now. "What the hell does that scoundrel want?" Finley returned his dark expression with one of her own. "You shouldn't use words you can't spell, mutton head.

You're perfectly safe. Emily is here to protect your virtue." "That's too bad.

Many great things have been accomplished by the careful combination of keen minds and ardent spirits.

I can't promise that I'll never be an ass, or that I'll never make you cry. I can't promise that I won't make you so angry you want to cosh me over the head with a brick. I can't promise you forever...I'd love to, but I can give you right now. I can give you me in all my defective glory.

Sam glanced at him. "Feeling sorry for yourself, are you? I suppose you're allowed. I mean, look at how bloody awful your life is." "Sarcasm doesn't become you," Griffin retorted.

Tesla might not have invented a machine for going back in time, but Griffin thought he'd just found a way to stop it.

You're the very spawn of Satan and I'll not have you darken this door ever again.

Spending all this time fretting and fawning over a bloke just wasn't her. If this was what infatuation did to a girl she'd take herself off to a convent in the morning.

It seemed humans, the scientifically minded ones at least, were either tempting death or trying to prolong life. Surely that was an indication of madness.

Learn from it and then let it go. Dwelling never helped anyone.

Easy, luv. Don't stir the devil, or you'll 'ave to pay the consequences." "I'm not sure I have any coin on me," she said leaning closer and kissing the stubbled roughness of his jaw. "Do you think he would accept my favors instead?" A sultry whisper in his ear. Blade groaned, "Bloody 'ell, Honor. Don't tease a man so." "But it's so very exciting.

Suddenly he was in the doorway, looming over her in a determined fashion. Gone was sweet, patient Griffin. This was the Duke of Greythorne, one of the most powerful men in England. “I don’t care that you came to Dandy,” he said, his voice low, but sharp. “If you want to blame yourself for Sam’s injury, then go ahead and be a fool. And I don’t care that you could cosh my head in if you wanted. I came here to get you and if I have to, I’ll toss you over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes and carry you all the way to Mayfair. I’m taking you home where you belong.

She refused to leave your side all bloody night", Sam remarked, with something that sounded like respect. "She's a good friend," Griffin replied. His old friend stared at him in amused disgust. "Griff, I'm your friend and even I wasn't about to sit here and watch you heal." Griffin looked away, annoyed by the sudden heat in his cheeks. "Yes, well, she was a much prettier sight to wake up to than your ugly head." "I'll have you know I've been told my eyes are like a night sky," came the mock-indignant reply.

Brushing dirt from his coat, Sam ignored the wild-eyed looks the other three gave him. Surely a house like this had enough staff to clean up a little dirt? “And who is this young man?” the old lady demanded. Sam opened his mouth to reply, but froze when he saw just who the old woman was. “May I present Sam Morgan, Your Highness,” Griffin said. Bloody hell. It was Queen Victoria. They’d just burrowed their way into Buckingham Palace.

We are the culture. All those people that are doing those dumb TV things and promoting hate…that’s the ‘counter’culture.

Finley?" His voice was weak, but there was no mistaking it. "Griffin?" Joy skipped in her chest. "You're awake." His forehead wrinkled, and his eyelashes fluttered. "Are you crying? My face is wet." "Of course not," she lied. "Sam was here before me. It must have been him.

What if all those strange and unexplainable bends in history were the result of supernatural interference? At which point I asked myself, what's the weirdest most eccentric historical phenomenon of them all? Answer:the Great British Empire. Clearly, one tiny little island could only conquer half the known world with supernatural aid. Those absurd Victorian manners and ridiculous fashions were obviously dictated by vampires. And, without a doubt, the British army regimental system functions on werewolf pack dynamics.

Griffin had to get to the bottom of these automaton attacks. He couldn’t ignore them just because Finley Jayne posed such an intriguing problem in such a pretty package. And she was pretty—even when off her rocker. In that respect, she was every bit as dangerous as Aunt Cordelia seemed to think. It was a good thing, then, that he enjoyed a little danger now and again.

The sleeping beauty in the fairy tale was awakened by the kiss of her prince. Finley woke up to the over-whelming and oh-so-not-delightful smell of vinegar. "Bloody hell!" She cried, lurching upright.

He could sit in the dust and dark of the carriage house and rot for the rest of his life. Clearly that's what he wished to do. It was not my place to get in the way of so profound a destiny.

Not everyone sees the goof in people like you do Emmy" Sam said "She even sees the good in you

Breathe, Newberry. If you faint in the Blacksmith’s laboratory, only the stars above know what might be grafted to your body when you wake up.

Are we immortal?" he paused in his exploration of her skin. Mischief shone in her eyes. "Want me to shoot you and find out?

...because of the foulness of her mother's emotional river, a current which ran swift, changing its path without warning...

Just smashing for a girl's confidence, that was. Nothing like having a bloke's attention wander when you were doing your best to divert him.

You aligned yourself with the wrong fella and there were consequences. Now, you can wallow in it, or you can pull that thick head of yours out of your posterior and help us figure out how to fix things.

Aye, then.Come and dance with the Ech'lon. You can be me bloody retinue. King o' Fools and 'is merry band o' jesters. If they don't laugh us out o' the tower, it'll be a bleedin' miracle.

A dagger is the noble weapon of Brutus. Everyone understands that tyrants fall to daggers. A bomb is a sordid modern device with many complex working parts. Only engineers understand bombs

Then, like a scene in a comedy - their lips but a breath away from touching - the door to the library burst open and Sam charged into the room like a bull, a map in his hands and Jasper hot on his heels. Bloody hell, they had brilliant timing.

Call me Jack, darling. All the pretty girls call me Jack." Finley rolled her eyes. Emily grinned at him, bright eyes sparkling. "No doubt they call you many things, some of which they might even repeat in polite company." "You come here to talk or flirt?" Sam demanded. Jack smiled. "Unlike you, mate, I'm able to do two fings at once.

I reckon that's the one thing you and I have in common - we both care about Em." She gave him a small smile. "And we both have naturally charming dispositions." His lips curved a little at her sarcasm. "That, too.

I tell you all the time, you will never be able to replace me with a brass and steam contraption.

Everything was a broken line for me in those days. I was slipped into the empty spaces between words.

I thought you lot brought a buildin' down on 'is 'ead." "We did," Sam replied before she could. "I don't think it took.

She holstered her weapon, raising the hem of her skirts and stepping lightly around the dead bodies.

Griff. I bet he's never met a gal like you before." "I should hope not," she replied glibly, but heat filled her cheeks. "Nature couldn't possibly make two mistakes like me." "You're not a mistake. Don't you ever think of yourself that way. You're exactly as you ought to be.

The girl stood in the center of the large four-poster bed. She wore a nightgown and robe that Cordelia had generously, and unknowingly, donated. Anything of Emily’s would have been far too short and too small. Her honey-colored hair fell over her shoulders in messy waves and her similarly colored eyes were almost black with wildness, her pupils unnaturally dilated. Fear. He felt it roll off her in great waves. It shimmered around her in a rich red aura Griff knew he alone could see, as it was viewable only on the Aetheric plane. She was afraid of them and, like a trapped animal, her answer to fear was to fight rather than flee. Interesting. She was certainly a sight to behold. Normally she was probably quite pretty, but right now she was…she was… She was bloody magnificent. That’s what she was. Except for the blood, of course.

And then Finley seized the spindly metal arm attached to her throat. A normal human would have no hope against such strength, but Finley was not normal. She snapped the arm at the elbow joint and then ripped the offending hand from her neck. Holding the arm by the hand and wrist, she used it to beat the automaton....

Blokes are different from girls," Sam informed her - still scowling. "We don't need to talk about every little thing. You don't hear me whining when I break a nail." Finley's own brows pulled together. "Do you ever think before you open your mouth?" "Did I offend your delicate sensibilities?" Sam asked sweetly.

Moments later Griffin had Finley in the carriage, and Jasper sat on the seat across from them. “What’s the matter with her?” he asked Griffin. Griffin shook his head. “Nothing. She’s just two personas struggling for dominance in one body.” The cowboy’s eyebrows shot up, but his expression was sympathetic. “Poor little thing.

He's rich, handsome and dangerous. You like that." She smiled at the uncharacteristic lack of self-confidence in his tone. "My dear duke. You are rich, handsome and dangerous." His lips lifted on one side. "I would never describe myself as dangerous." "Could you maybe stop talking? I'd like to kiss you but your lips won't stay still." Eyes twinkling, he pressed his lips shut. Finley smiled and guided his head down to hers.

Your face is burning so bright, I'm afraid for the draperies. Are you all right?" Fortunately, no one ever died of embarrassment. "Must be the sun. I always end up looking like a tomato." "Right," her friends drawled. "Because the sun is so very hot through those thick rain clouds." "Oh, shut up!" Emily laughed despite herself. "I'm blushing and I've not intention of explaining why.

Sespian opened his mouth, paused, closed it, then shook his head ruefully. "It's very easy to be drawn into what you're saying, and I catch myself wanting to nod and agree. Maybe I should take notes on your technique." Amaranthe blushed and felt like she should stutter an apology, but she hadn't done anything to be embarrassed about, had she? "It's her eyes", Sicarius said, startling her.. Yara glanced over her shoulder at him, apparently, surprised to hear him speak, but soon turned her attention back to the tracks. She seemed to be believe she should remain silent for the discussion. Sespian scratched his jaw. "Yes, maybe so. They're like a doe's. Warm and earnest and..." "Wholesome. Sicarius's eyes glinted, and Amaranthe scowled at him.

When he moved to take another sandwich, she pushed the plate just out of his reach. "Talk first. Eat later, Jack." His gaze narrowed, but there was a twinkled in his eye. "You've become cruel, Treasure. An 'eartless minx what delights in denyin' a man 'is proper tea. A little suspense is good for the digestion.

Slowly, Finley rose from the sofa, tilted her head back and looked him dead in the eye. “I have no desire to be any more in your debt than I already am.” He looked thoughtful for a moment. “Would it make you more comfortable if I demanded something in return? Would that put you at ease?” When he put it like that, it made her sound like an awful sort of person for thinking the worst. “It would, yes. At least that would be honest.” It might have been laughter that came scoffing from his throat, but there was little humor in it. He shook his head, the light reflecting glints of russet in his hair. “I’d like to meet whomever it was who made you so distrusting and pull his teeth out one by one.” The vehemence in his tone startled her, yet was strangely warming. “’Twas more than just one.” His face darkened, like clouds overtaking the sun. Suddenly, this was no longer just some seemingly kind, bored aristocrat standing before her, but a young man capable of many dangerous things.

As they walked, the subtle lamplight of a dirigible washed over them. Finley glanced up, watching the light grow closer, slowly descending from the sky in a whirl of propellers as the ship made its way into the London air dock just a few miles away. How amazing it must be to float so high, to travel so quickly. Dandy followed her gaze, but they didn’t stop walking. “I was up in one of them flyers once,” he told her. “I climbed over the rail and hung on to one of the ropes. Freeing it was. I almost let go.” She whipped her head around to gape at him. “The fall would kill you.” He smiled ever so slightly. “Not afore I flew. Worse ways to go.

He's so handsome," Phoebe commented just as Finley directed her attention at her. "Who?" she demanded. "The Duke of Greythorne," came the reply. "He just left." She glanced out the window, but all she saw was a tall gentleman with reddish-brown hair and wearing very fashionable clothing as he walked away from her. "Well, he has a tolerable back," she commented drily. Pheobe snickered. "Looking at his backside are you, Finley?

It would take little effort for her to hurt him right now. She could hurt him badly. But Griffin King could hurt her, as well, and he hadn’t. Instead of using force or violence against her, he used patience and understanding. She had no defense against that. When he let her go, she was shaking. Tears filled her eyes as she turned to her mother who stood staring at her in horror. “My sweet little girl,” her mother whispered. “I didn’t know. I would never…” Her words faded into a choked sob. Finley crossed the short distance between them on quivering legs and wrapped her arms around the shorter woman. She didn’t care if Griffin or his nasty aunt saw her tears. If anything was worth crying over, the discovery that her father had made her a monster had to be one.

Perhaps you are a clockwork girl. Perhaps Mortmain’s warlock father built you, and now Mortmain seeks the secret of how to create such a perfect facsimile of life when all he can build are hideous monstrosities. Perhaps all that beats beneath your chest is a heart made of metal.’ Tessa drew in a breath, feeling momentarily dizzy. His soft voice was so convincing, and yet--’No,’ she said sharply. ‘You forget, I remember my childhood. Mechanical creatures do not change or grow. Nor would that explain my ability.’ ‘I know,’ said Will with a grin that flashed white in the darkness. ‘I only wanted to see if I could convince you.’ Tessa looked at him steadily. ‘I am not the one who has no heart.