Hailee

“What will NY152 say today, I wonder. I turn on my computer. I wait impatiently as it connects. I go online, and my breath catches in my chest until I hear three little words: You've got mail. I hear nothing. Not even a sound on the streets of New York, just the beating of my own heart. I have mail. From you.”
― Nora Ephron

“The odd thing about this form of communication is you're more likely to talk about nothing than something. But I just want to say that all this nothing has meant more to me than so many... somethings. So, thanks.”
― Nora Ephron

“My dress is caught in the settee. And I would be much obliged if you would help me out of it!” “The dress or the settee?” the stranger asked, sounding interested. “The settee,” Pandora said irritably. “I’m all tangled up in these dratted—” she hesitated, wondering what to call the elaborate wooden curls and twists carved into the back of the settee. “—swirladingles,” she finished. “Acanthus scrolls,” the man said at the same time. A second passed before he asked blankly, “What did you call them?” “Never mind,” Pandora said with chagrin. “I have a bad habit of making up words, and I’m not supposed to say them in public.” “Why not?” “People might think I’m eccentric.” His quiet laugh awakened a ticklish feeling in her stomach. “At the moment, darling, made-up words are the least of your problems.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil in Spring

“Your kiss thrilled me beyond imagining,” he whispered. “Every night for the rest of my life, I’ll dream of the afternoon in the holloway, when I was waylaid by a dark-haired beauty who devastated me with the heat of a thousand troubled stars, and left my soul in cinders. Even when I’m an old man, and my brain has fallen to wrack and ruin, I’ll remember the sweet fire of your lips under mine, and I’ll say to myself, ‘Now, that was a kiss.’” Silver-tongued devil, Pandora thought, unable to hold back a crooked grin.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil in Spring