My dear fellow," he continued more soberly, "If you have managed to complicate things by forming a sentimental attachment in less than a week, then I doubt there is anything I can do for you. You, sir, are a romantic, and I suspect your condition is incurable.
Mosca said nothing. The word ‘damsel’ rankled with her. She suddenly thought of the clawed girl from the night before, jumping the filch on an icy st… - Frances Hardinge
Mosca said nothing. The word ‘damsel’ rankled with her. She suddenly thought of the clawed girl from the night before, jumping the filch on an icy st…
- Frances Hardinge
My good lady,’ interrupted Clent, ‘are you telling me that he is not the Luck? That you have in some way obfuscated the chronology of his nativity?’ … - Frances Hardinge
My good lady,’ interrupted Clent, ‘are you telling me that he is not the Luck? That you have in some way obfuscated the chronology of his nativity?’ …
Truth is dangerous. It topples palaces and kills kings. It stirs gentle men to rage and bids them take up arms. It wakes old grievances and opens for… - Frances Hardinge
Truth is dangerous. It topples palaces and kills kings. It stirs gentle men to rage and bids them take up arms. It wakes old grievances and opens for…
Everybody knew that books were dangerous. Read the wrong book, it was said, and the words crawled around your brain on black legs and drove you mad, … - Frances Hardinge
Everybody knew that books were dangerous. Read the wrong book, it was said, and the words crawled around your brain on black legs and drove you mad, …
My dear fellow," he continued more soberly, "If you have managed to complicate things by forming a sentimental attachment in less than a week, then I… - Frances Hardinge
My dear fellow," he continued more soberly, "If you have managed to complicate things by forming a sentimental attachment in less than a week, then I…
The world is like a broken wrist that healed the wrong way, and will never be the same again. - Frances Hardinge
The world is like a broken wrist that healed the wrong way, and will never be the same again.
You, sir, are a romantic, and I'm afraid the condition is incurable. -Eponymous Clent - Frances Hardinge
You, sir, are a romantic, and I'm afraid the condition is incurable. -Eponymous Clent
If wits were pins, the man would be a veritable hedgehog. - Frances Hardinge
If wits were pins, the man would be a veritable hedgehog.
We always find it difficult to forgive our heroes for being human. - Frances Hardinge
We always find it difficult to forgive our heroes for being human.
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