“Mrs. Margaret sigh heavy. Then she standing up, and starting make her own tea. She drink it in very thirsty way, like angry camel in the desert.”

“He stood there, drinking her in like he was a thirsty man and she was water in the desert. Because his soul...his foolish and hopeful soul...wanted her just as much as she wanted him." ~ Anew: The Archers of Avalon”

“She tried to steal the desert. She’s guilty. Look no farther than her camel toe.”

“Perhaps there can be too much making of cups of tea, I thought, as I watched Miss Statham filling the heavy teapot. Did we really need a cup of tea? I even said as much to Miss Statham and she looked at me with a hurt, almost angry look, 'Do we need tea? she echoed. 'But Miss Lathbury...' She sounded puzzled and distressed and I began to realise that my question had struck at something deep and fundamental. It was the kind of question that starts a landslide in the mind. I mumbled something about making a joke and that of course one needed tea always, at every hour of the day or night.”

“A quarter past three," she exclaimed, catching sight of the bedside clock. "What a time to be drinking tea!""Anytime," Harold told her, "is time to be drinking tea.”

“She was closed up like a fist. It her very own memory, not theirs, her very own real and terrible and lonely and dark memory.”