“your a flea on a rats bum”

“Writing is a lot like sex: at first you do it because you enjoy it. Then you find yourself doing it with others. But if you're any good at all, you end up doing it for less money than it's worth.”

“I have never heard anyone say, 'Oh, ick! A horse!”

“I'd wager you have a vengeful streak a mile wide," he muttered."I am the least vengeful person I know," she said with a sniff. "And if you think otherwise, then perhaps you ought not to marry me.""You're marrying me," he ground out, "if I have to drag you to the altar bound and gagged."Ellie smiled waspishly. "You could try," she taunted, "but in your condition you couldn't drag a flea.""And you say you're not vengeful.""I seem to be developing a taste for it.”

“It was cold. Really cold. And there was an awful scurrying noise that definitely belong to a small, four-legged creature.Or even worse, a large, four-legged creature. Or to be more precise, a large version of a small, four-legged creature.Rats."Oh,God," Sophie moaned. She didn't often take the Lord's name in vain, but now seemed as good a time as any to start. Maybe He would hear, and maybe He would smite the rats. Yes, that would do very nicely.A big jolt of lightning. Huge. Of biblical proportions. It could hit the earth, spread little electrical tentacles around the globe, and sizzle all the rats dead.It was a lovely dream. Right up there with the ones in which she found herself living happily ever after as Mrs. Benedict Bridgerton.Sophie took a quick gasp as a sudden stab of pain pierced her heart. Of the two dreams, she feared that the genocide of the rats might be the more likely to come true.”

“No matter what your age or your life path, whether making art is your career or your hobby or your dream, it is not too late or too egotistical or too selfish or too silly to work on your creativity.”

“Your heart is free now." "No," he whispered. "It's yours.”