“All of her aunts said that Bridget looked exactly like her mother as a teenager. Staring at her, Bridget realised she had no memories of her mother being thin.”

“It was as if her mother and aunt had been snatched away by goblins and replaced with fairies of some sort. They looked so beautiful to her, and so different… They could have said anything, and she would have loved them.”

“Greta was squinting at the Pants. "Are those yours?" she asked.Bridget nodded."Would you like me to wash 'em for you? A little bleach would clean that whole mess right off them."Bridget looked aghast. "No! No, thank you" she cradled them protectively. "I like them how they are."Greta clucked and shook her head. "To each, her own," she muttered.You have no magic in you, Bridget thought.”

“She loved her mother and depended on her mother, and yet every single word her mother said annoyed her.”

“Men loved her but she was the woman, all women loved to hate. She was Bridget Jones gone wrong. She knew the price of everything and the value of nothing.”

“Betsy liked to talk. Her father always said she got it from her mother, and her mother always said she got it from her father. But whomever she got it from she was certainly a talker.”