The pigment must be mixed with the tears of spinsters of good family, who must live long lives of impeccable virtue and die without ever having had a day of true happiness.
Susanna ClarkeAnd what do you keep in such a pretty little box, sir? Snuff?'
Oh, no! It is a great treasure of mine that I wish Lady Pole to wear tonight!' He opened the box and showed Stephen a small, white finger.
...He danced with a young woman with no hair, but who wore a wig of shining beetles that swarmed and seethed on her head. His third partner complained bitterly whenever Stephen's hand happened to brush her gown; she said it put her gown of its singing; and, when Stephen looked down, he saw that her gown was indeed covered with tiny mouths which opened and sang a little tune in a series of high, errie notes.
Susanna ClarkeShe wore a gown the color of storms, shadows, and rain and a necklace of broken promises and regrets.
Susanna Clarkeyou must learn to live as I do - in the face of constant criticism, opposition and censure. That, sir, is the English way.
Susanna ClarkeMots clés english
Oh! And they read English novels! David! Did you ever look into an English novel? Well, do not trouble yourself. It is nothing but a lot of nonsense about girls with fanciful names getting married.
Susanna ClarkeMots clés humour literature novels
But when the fairy sang the whole world listened to him. Stephen felt clouds pause in their passing; he felt sleeping hills shift and murmur; he felt cold mists dance. He understood for the first time that the world is not dumb at all, but merely waiting for someone to speak to it in a language it understands. In the fairy’s song the earth recognized the names by which it called itself.
Susanna ClarkeMots clés jonathan-strange-mr-norrell
John Longridge, the cook at Harley-street, had suffered from low spirits for more than thirty years, and he was quick to welcome Stephen as a newcomer to the freemasonry of melancholy.
Susanna ClarkeMots clés humor beautiful-imagery
To sit and pass hour after hour in idle chatter with a roomful of strangers is to me the worst sort of torment.
Susanna ClarkeMots clés humor
Lovers are rarely the most rational beings in creation...
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