“It feels like something I was born to do, like I am supposed to be her with her.”

“This is making me sick, Jacob. Can you imagine what this feels like to me? I don’t even like Bella Swan. And you’ve got me grieving over this leech-lover like I’m in love with her, too. Can you see where that might be a little confusing? I dreamed about kissing her last night! What the hell am I supposed to do with that?”

“I suppose I do have one embarrassing passion- I want to know what it feels like to care about something passionately.”

“The thing is, though, I don't like the idea. It stinks, if you analyze it. I think if you don't really like a girl, you shouldn't horse around with her at all, and if you do like her, then you're supposed to like her face, and if you like her face, you ought to be careful about doing crumby stuff to it, like squirting water all over it.”

“I don't feel like Nick's wife. I don't feel like a person at all: I am something to be loaded and unloaded, like a sofa or a cuckoo clock. I am something to be tossed into a junkyard, thrown into the river, if necessary. I don't feel real anymore. I feel like I could disappear.”

“I cannot feel like a duchess in mymother’s sitting room.”“What do you feel like, then?”“Hmmm.” She took a sip of her tea. “Just DaphneBridgerton, I suppose. It’s difficult to shed the surname inthis clan. In spirit, that is.”“I hope that is a compliment,” Lady Bridgerton remarked.Daphne just smiled at her mother. “I shall never escapeyou, I’m afraid.” She turned to Gareth. “There is nothing like one’s family to make one feel like one has nevergrown up.”