Laura Kinsale > Quotes

“Its been six weeks," he murmured. "Six weeks I've wanted you. I know how you move, and how the sunlight makes a shadow on the curve of your cheek, and the shape of your ear." He chucked harshly then turned his head on the pillow to look at her. "I'm dying," he said. He dropped his fist against his chest. "Right here, you're killing me.”
― Laura Kinsale, The Prince of Midnight

“Then you came and I started to feel again. I started to think there was a reason I survived, that you were my reason. But nothing's so simple, is it? I didn't protect you. Here you are hurting so bad, and I can't even help. I'm just here and I need you. That's all it comes to. I need you to be brave when I haven't been. I know how hard it is. Look at me. Look at what's happened to me. Jesus, I feel like I'll be crying for the next century." He bent his head, pressed his tear-wet cheek to her dry cold skin. "But I'm here. I'm not hiding anymore. Princess, I'm asking you. Come back to me. You're my life.”
― Laura Kinsale, Seize the Fire

“The baby closed its mouth, staring at him with hope and small hiccups.

“Jesus,” he said. He lay down on the bed, pulling the pillow under his head, and drew the whole bundle of coat, shawl and infant up against his shirt. A tiny hand closed tight on the lace. One sob erupted, and then changed midbreath to a soft sigh.

Women, he thought sardonically, sinking in the bedclothes, with sleep revolving and closing in his head. He moved one finger, feeling a cheek as soft as down.

What’s your name?

Ask the girl. Remember that…

Maddy…

It was wrong. I must leave thee now.

Don’t cry. Don’t cry, little girl… I’m so tired. I never deserved you, did I? Maddy… but I loved you.

I always loved you.”
― Laura Kinsale, Flowers from the Storm

“He liked radical politics and had a fondness for chocolate.”
― Laura Kinsale, Flowers from the Storm

“My books are mine, and yet they are alien to me--as a child belongs to a parent and yet has a life of its own. I can guide and hope and nudge my characters this and that way, but in the end, they become what they become. I don't always like what they become myself, but like a parent, there are times when I just don't know what to do about it. Other times when I'm so proud of them I could bust.”
― Laura Kinsale

“It had not seemed difficult, on a small income, to know what was right to do....Now, with so much, it was daily a decision: what was necessary, what was frivolous...It was so much gray--so little black and white; for a year she'd spent more of her time questioning herself and how she lived in Truth than she had done altogether in her life.”
― Laura Kinsale, Flowers from the Storm

“The flame in her was slow and deep-he was going to incite it with the fire in himself; he was going to make a blaze to burn down cities, to lay waste cathedrals and castles and plain meetinghouses-to make a world where it was only him, and only her, and this bed, and one flesh.”
― Laura Kinsale, Flowers from the Storm

“She hadn't ascribed to this modern notion of equality between the sexes. Woman were patently superior.”
― Laura Kinsale, The Shadow and the Star

“My God." He pushed away from the bedpost. "Friends! And do you fall into bed with any man who's 'dear' to you? How am I to take that?"

"Of course I don't." She stood up, letting the knotted scarf slip away. "I can't seem to help myself. With you. About that. It's extremely vexing."

"You're quite right on that count," he said sullenly. "I'm damned vexed. I'd like to vex you right here on the floor, in fact. And the idea of Sturgeon vexing you is enough to dispose me to murder. Is that clear? Do you comprehend me?" He took a reckless stride toward her and caught her chin between his fingers. "I'm not your friend, my lady. I'm your lover.”
― Laura Kinsale, Lessons in French

“Dost though even know what would become of me? Thou dost not." She exhaled sharply. "Friends would disown me. It is our way. I would be alone!"

"No," he said unexpectedly. He turned and held his hand to her, palm upward, empty, a simple masculine offering. "Maddygirl. With...me.”
― Laura Kinsale, Flowers from the Storm

“I think,' Olympia said slowly, 'that I know you quite well.' She looked down at the deck and added in a carefully mild voice, 'You can be a scoundrel; I know that. You stole from me and betrayed me and lied to me. You have no morals and no ideals; you think of yourself first and you're a coward sometimes on that account.' She hesitated, chewing her lip. 'What people call a coward, anyway. I don't know what cowardice is anymore. I don't know what heroism is.' She looked up. 'But I know one thing, and I learned it from you. I know what courage means. It means to pick up and go on, no matter what. It means having a heart of iron, like they say. You have that.”
― Laura Kinsale, Seize the Fire

“He lifted his eyes. They were the color of the deepest heart of hurricane clouds, deeper blue than the sky behind him.”
― Laura Kinsale, Flowers from the Storm

“As he observed her in musing silence, a novel thought occurred to him. It slipped through his mind so subtly that it seemed to mingle like smoke with his physical perceptions, with the way the dim light through the stained-glass window fell across her hair in little iridescent rainbows, and the scent of old tobacco and dust lingered in the room. He wondered — absurdly — if this was what she had come for — simply to sit in the stillness and be alive and share it with him.
Something inside, something tiny he hadn’t even known was there, seemed to unfold, to spread tentative petals open like a desert flower sensing rain.
She turned and looked up at him, her great unblinking eyes full of forest wisdom. He thought foolishly: Let me stay here. I need this.”
― Laura Kinsale, Seize the Fire

“But no monk am I in my head, God grant me pardon," he whispered. His body drew closer, velvet and taut elegance. "My confessor has chastised me oft, and bade me study on my sins at length. And so, lady"--he kissed her, the hunger in it sinking down through her like a comet falling--"I have studied.”
― Laura Kinsale, For My Lady's Heart

“Just—let me hold you. That’s all. Hold you and go to sleep.” He smoothed his thumbs over the back of her hands. “You can tell me everything about tableware.”
She was silent a moment, gazing down at their hands. Then she said, “Would you like to know about holloware or flatware?”
“Flatware. Naturally, flatware.”
“I shall certainly put you to sleep with that. I venture to say you’ll be snoring by the time I get to the runcible spoon.”
“My God. Do I snore?”
“You were decidedly snoring last night, as I was enlightening you upon the nature and arrangement of sideboards. I’m rather a connoisseur of sideboards, but I suppose not everyone enters into my own enthusiasm. Kindly refrain from swearing, if you please.”
“I beg your pardon.” He kissed her nose...”
― Laura Kinsale, The Shadow and the Star

“The flowers were opulent, full-blown, topple shower petals at a touch. He thought that she might topple that way, falling all at once into his hand, a soft drift of blossom between his fingers. The roses bowed their extravagant heads, nodding, but she was all stiff prim and black, back in her bonnet, so that he could not see her face unless she looked directly at him.”
― Laura Kinsale, Flowers from the Storm

“She was afraid, too, frightened of what she found herself becoming. She felt that she was transforming into a malevolent black spider, hunched back in her crack, staring out at the world and despising everything and everyone for having what she did not.”
― Laura Kinsale, The Prince of Midnight

“She instantly lowered her face, staring at her lap, so that nothing was visible of her beyond the clusters of sunflower curls that framed the netted bun on top of her head. Intrigued by the curve of one plump cheek, he lifted her chin and made her look toward him, ignoring her flinch as he touched her.
His first impression was of green eyes, wide as a baby owl's and just as solemn. Dumpling cheeks, a straight nose, and a firm little mouth- all ordinary, and all in common female proportion. There was nothing notably strange about her features- and yet it was an odd face, the kind of face that looked out of burrows and tree-knots and hedgerows, unblinking, innocent and as old as time. If she'd had whiskers to twitch it wouldn't have surprised him, so strong was the impression of a small, prudent wild creature with dark brows like furry markings.
Strangely, she made him want to smile, as if he'd just pulled aside a branch and discovered a nightingale staring gravely back at him from its nest. He found himself reacting in the same way, consciously containing his moves and his voice, as if he might startle her away.
"Hullo," he said softly, giving her a light, suggestive chuck beneath her plump chin as he let her go.”
― Laura Kinsale, Seize the Fire

“He put his fist against his chest. “Burn, Maddygirl,” he said. Then he turned and left her in the flickering gloom and thunder.”
― Laura Kinsale, Flowers from the Storm

“"There was no public to humiliate him here. They already knew he was a lunatic. They expected it. He could burst into howls of insanity, and they would only smile those gentle smiles at him and wrestle him into the chains."”
― Laura Kinsale, Flowers from the Storm

“It was quite settled by now. She was born to be a spinster.”
― Laura Kinsale, Lessons in French

“If you’re not a criminal, then what are you doing stealing all these swords and things?” For a moment he was silent. Then he rubbed his chin and said, “There’s no name for it in English.” “Oh, is there not? ‘Burglary’ seems descriptive enough.” “Kyojitsu.” He looked levelly into her eyes, not wavering. “False-true.”
― Laura Kinsale, The Shadow and the Star

“He didn’t reckon that God owed him anything. He reckoned that he’d had it all, and wasted it. Burning lakes and howling fiends had just never seemed that convincing, perils hardly fit to frighten naughty children.

He turned over, staring up at the darkess.

Damned…having found out now what hell was really like.”
― Laura Kinsale, Flowers from the Storm

“He came down the nave, walking with his graceful stride, dangerous and tear-stained.”
― Laura Kinsale, Shadowheart

“She had thought Raymond handsome. But the Raven was something beyond handsome. Beyond gallant manners and teasing glances. He was like the old, old stories, like the unknown man who waited on a darkened hill, the mist around him, hand outstretched ...
In the stories, if a woman went to him... she did not return.
But she wanted to go ...
She wanted.”
― Laura Kinsale, Shadowheart

“Zenia,” he said, “I’m not good at it—tea and cakes. I have no patience with it.”
She looked directly at him. “I suppose you would prefer to eat on the ground with your fingers?” Her dry remark seemed to take him aback. He looked at her with a faint frown. “Shall I sprinkle some sand on the butter,” she asked, “to put you more at ease?”
He tilted up one corner of his mouth. “No.” He lifted his cup, extending his little finger with an exaggerated delicacy. “I can play, if I must. How does your dear aunt do, Lady Winter? I hear she has the vapors once an hour. I have a receipt for a rhubarb plaster—most efficacious! Of course, if you prefer a more permanent cure, nothing can surpass a fatal dose of arsenic.”
― Laura Kinsale, The Dream Hunter

“He felt her draw a little shuddering breath, and then a wet tumble of water on her cheek. She whispered, “God forgive, Jervaulx—that I sh’dovethee.”

That I should love thee.<\i>

It broke the spell that held him. Had she said that? He pushed back, gazing at her.”
― Laura Kinsale, Flowers from the Storm

“Will you be my conscience, hellcat?” He sounded amused.
“I do not jest,” she said.
He held back her hair and traced his forefinger along her temple. “Nor I. I am in dire need of one.”
― Laura Kinsale, Shadowheart

“She stood with her arms hugged about herself, her brows drawn together in icy disdain, black and arched, delicate as the tips of a nymph’s infernal wings.
“Haps I am a witch,” she said. “I tell thee true, Green Sire—I have cheated demons, and still I am alive.”
― Laura Kinsale, For My Lady's Heart

“They began a dance, the woman and the bird, a swinging and sweeping dance that defied the compass of the earth, marked by the flash of emeralds, the bells, and the white glory of the falcon’s twisting flight as it drove and stooped and chased the toll. Around and around the lure spun, beckoning and evading, mercurial, up and down and doubled back, the falcon keen and nimble in pursuit—an eternity— and yet before Ruck could take his eyes from them, before he could imprint the picture on his mind, before he could overcome the irresistible rise of his heart at the sight of the falcon’s dance, it was over.”
― Laura Kinsale, For My Lady's Heart