“And dear Ajay, the Ozone Destroyer! What can I say, aside from: Thank God you are clearing the hell outta my minivan before the seats melt.”

“Having come to the conclusion that there was so much to do that she didn’t know where to start, Mrs Fowler decided not to start at all. She went to the library, took Diary of a Nobody from the shelves and, returning to her wicker chair under the lime tree, settled down to waste what precious hours still remained of the day.”

“There is no doubt about it, these animals are trying to destroy me mentally. Blows come in psychological form, ripping through my defences, tearing me apart internally. In the the face of this new but very effective game of destruction I cry like a child. Shattered!No injuries are apparent. What is going on, why?”

“I have an idea and a first line -- and that suggests the rest of it. I have little concept of what I’m going to say, or where it’s going. I have some idea of how long it’s going to be -- but not what will happen or what the themes will be. That’s the intrigue of doing it -- it’s a process of discovery. You get to discover what you’re going to say and what it’s going to mean.”

“Enough, Aunt Josephine," Jack said, cutting her off, ignoring the stubborn light in her eyes. Oh, she was a Tremont all right, and one of the "mad" Tremonts at that, but she was no longer in charge of this house.He was. And it was about time he took the reins of this manor and ran it as he saw fit."There will be no next time," he told her."But Jack, my dear boy--"He rose from Miranda's side. "There will be no next time. For any of you. I have had enough of seeing my friends, my family, let alone the woman I love risk life, limb, and for what?" He paced the room. "There will never be an end to this if something isn't done, so I am ending it. Here and now.""But Jack--" Miranda protested.He swung around on her. "And not a word from you. Do you think I want my wife risking her life on such an improper fashion?""You love me?" she whispered."Yes," he barked at her.She grinned up at him. "You want to marry me?""Should have years ago." He paced back and forth. "I lost you once, Miranda, I shall not lose you again." He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at everyone in the room, daring them to defy him.”

“Terror melting into wonder, then slipping into peace.”

“He said someday I would come home and regret ever leaving."She murmured something, perhaps her own remembrance of a place lost. "Do you?" she said after some time."Yes . . . I mean to say, no," he corrected. "Oh, bother, I don't know.""Don't fret over it. You can't get back the time you've lived, and all you have is what is before you," she said sagely."Egads, I find myself betrothed to a bluestocking," he teased. "Who was that, Aristotle?"She laughed. "No, Aunt Bedelia.”