mags

“Dustfinger inspected his reddened fingers and felt the taut skin. ‘He might tell me how my story ends,’ he murmured.
Meggie looked at him in astonishment. ‘You mean you don’t know?’
Dustfinger smiled. Meggie still didn’t particularly like his smile. It seemed to appear only to hide something else. ‘What’s so unusual about that, princess?’ he asked quietly. ‘Do you know how your story ends?’
Meggie had no answer for that.”
― Cornelia Funke, Inkheart

“Mr. Bradford," she said. "I'm not going to propose to you."

The twinkle in Mr. Bradford's eyes faded. So did his smile. He managed to keep it on his face. It looked painful.

"Oh," he said.

"Mr. Bradford?"

"Yes?"

"Would you mind it so very much if...you know...you proposed to me?"

The light in Mr. Bradford's eyes jumped to life. He beamed so largely it almost wasn't crooked.

"If you want.”
― Heather Dixon, Entwined

“The person, be it gentleman or lady, who has not pleasure in a good novel, must be intolerably stupid.”
― Jane Austen, Northanger Abbey

“Sam came around the side of the car and stopped dead when he saw me. “Oh my God, what is THAT?” I used my thumb and middle finger to flick the multicolored pom-pom on top of my head. “In my language, we call it a HAT. It keeps my ears warm.” “Oh my God,” Sam said again, and closed the distance between us. He cupped my face in his hands and studied me. “It’s horribly cute.” He kissed me, looked at the hat, and then he kissed me again. I vowed never to lose the pom-pom hat.”
― Maggie Stiefvater, Shiver