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Alexandra Ripley

Alexandra Ripley was an American writer best known as the author of Scarlett, the sequel to Gone with the Wind. Her first novel was Who's the Lady in the President's Bed?. Charleston, her first historical novel, was a bestseller, as were her next books On Leaving Charleston, The Time Returns, and New Orleans Legacy. Scarlett received some bad reviews, but was very successful nonetheless. She attended the elite Ashley Hall, in Charleston, South Carolina, and Vassar College in Poughkeepsie, New York.

She died in Richmond, Virginia, and is survived by two daughters from her first marriage to Leonard Ripley, a son in law and granddaughter, Alexandra Elizabeth.

Ripley has also published works under the name B.K. Ripley.


“The faint of lemon verbena surrounded her, floating gently from Eleanor Butler's silk gown and silken hair. It was the fragrance that had always been part of Ellen O'Hara, the scent for Scarlett of comfort, of safety, of love, of life before the War”
Alexandra Ripley
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“Rhett glanced over his shoulder as if there had been a sound. His eyes met hers, and surprise stiffened his lithe body. For a long immeasurable moment the two of them looked at each other while the space between them widened. Then blandness smoothed Rhett's face as he touched two fingers to his hat brim in salute. Scarlett lifted her hand.”
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“Should-haves solve nothing. It's the next thing to happen that needs thinking about.”
Alexandra Ripley
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“If only' repeated again and again in her head like a battering ram...'if only' could break your heart.”
Alexandra Ripley
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“But if you knew that, why on earth did you marry her?" Rosemary asked. "Why?" Rhett's mouth twisted in a smile."Because she was so full of fire and so recklessly, stubbornly brave.Because she was such a child beneath all her pretenses.Because she was unlike any woman I had ever known. She fascinatedme,infuriated me, drove me mad. I loved her as consumingly as she loved him. From the day I first laid eyes on her. It was a kind of disease." There was a weight of sorrow in his voice. He bowed his head into his two hands and laughed shakily. His voice was muffled and blurred by his fingers. "What a grotesque practical joke life is. Now Ashley Wilkes is a free man and would marry Scarlett on a moment's notice, and I want to be rid of her. Naturally that makes her determined to have me. She wants only what she cannot have."Rhett raised his head. "I'm afraid," he said quietly, "afraid that it will all begin again. I know that she's heartless and completely selfish, that she's like a child who cries for a toy and then breaks it once she has it. But there are moments when she tilts her head at a certain angle, or she smiles that gleeful smile, or she suddenly looks lost-and I come close to forgetting what I know.”
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“You belong with me, Scarlett, haven't you figured that out? And the world is where we belong, all of it. We're not home-and-hearth people. We're the adventurers, the buccaneers, the blockade runners. Without challenge, we're only half alive. We can go anywhere, and as long as we're together, it will belong to us. But, my pet, we'll never belong to it. That's for other people, not for us.”
Alexandra Ripley
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“And the world is where we belong, all of it.”
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“One of the injustices of the world was that it was so easy to make the innocent and caring ones happy with so little.”
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“And if things always stayed the same, Scarlett, what would be the reason for bothering to draw breath?”
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“It's the centuries, Scarlett darling. All the life lived there, all the joy and all the sorrow, all the feasts and battles, they're in the air around and the land beneath you. It's time, years beyond our counting weighing without weight on the earth. You cannot see it or smell it or hear it or touch it, but you feel it brushing your skin and speaking without sound. Time. And mystery.”
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“Everyone knew that once a woman was 30, she might as well be dead.”
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“But you know who you are when you're on your own out there in all that emptiness. There's no past, no holding on to the scraps that are all you've got left. Everything is that minute, or maybe tomorrow, not yesterday.”
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