Lillian Lynburn Quotes

And other people hurt you. And you were both angry, and maybe you were both scared, but no matter what dark thoughts you have you didn't hurt her. Someone else hurt her. Don't waste time blaming yourself when you can spend time planning how to destroy our enemies."
"Can we get that last thing embroidered on a cushion, Aunt Lillian?" Jared asked. ~ Sarah Rees Brennan

If I show consideration for others," Lillian Lynburn said grumpily, "will you tell me again about how you shot my husband?"
Jon rolled his eyes. "Yes, Leigh, if you manage to approximate human behavior for half an hour, I will tell you your favorite story again. ~ Sarah Rees Brennan

The situation was obviously desperate: Lillian Lynburn was actually arguing for someone to feel more empathy. ~ Sarah Rees Brennan

For the last time, I'm not a witch." Miss Lillian smiled and patted Theta's cheek. "Keep telling yourself that, dear. ~ Libba Bray

What happened?" Lillian asked as Daisy walked into the Marsden parlor. She was reclining on the settee with a periodical. "You look as if you've been run over by a carriage."
"I had an encounter with an ill-mannered pig, actually. ~ Lisa Kleypas

As one grows older, one realizes how little one knows about any relationship, or even about oneself. ~ Lillian Hellman

I've never been in style, so I can never go out of style. ~ Lillian Gish

She turned the doorknob and pushed - but the door wouldn't budge. 'Lillian? Lillian, don't tell me this door is bolted!'
'That's fine,' I answered in as light a tone as I could manage while frantically unbuttoning Uncle Bufford's
waistcoat. 'I won't tell you, I promise.'
'Don't get smart with me, young lady! Is
this door bolted?'
'You just asked me not to tell you that. So I can't, even though technically it actually might be true.'
'Lillian! ~ Robert Thier

You are a rebellion, a useless retaliation against a ghost. And when the novelty of his vulgar bride wears thin, the earl will come to despise you as I do. But by then it will be too late. The lineage will be ruined."
Lillian remained expressionless, though she felt the color drain from her face. No one, she realized, had ever looked at her with real hatred until now. It was clear that the countess wished every ill upon her short of death- perhaps not even barring that. Rather than shrink, cry, or protest, however, Lillian found herself launching a counterattack. "Maybe he wants to marry me as a retaliation against you, my lady. In which case I am delighted to serve as the means of reprisal. ~ Lisa Kleypas

I should force you. You have no legal right to refuse me to your bed."
Suddenly Evie's heart stopped, and she felt herself blanch. But she would not shrink from him. Something inside demanded that she stand up to him in equal. "Go on, then," she challenged coolly. "Force me." She saw the flicker of surprise in his eyes. His throat worked, but he remained silent. And then... she understood. "You can't," she said in wonder. "You would never have raped Lillian. You were only bluffing. You could never force a woman." A faint smile rose to her lips. "She was never in a moment's danger, was she? You're not nearly the villain you pretend to be. ~ Lisa Kleypas

I don't usually wear perfume," Annabelle said. "Mr. Hunt likes the smell of clean skin."
"He may prefer Lady of the Night."
Annabelle looked appalled. "Is that what this is called?"
"It's named after a night-blooming orchid," Lillian explained.
"Oh, good," Annabelle said sardonically. "I was afraid that it was named after a harlot. ~ Lisa Kleypas

I can't remember a time when I wasn't acting, so I can't imagine what I would do if I stopped now. ~ Lillian Gish

Contrary to all we hear about women and their empty-nest problem, it may be fathers more often than mothers who are pained by thechildren's imminent or actual departure
fathers who want to hold back the clock, to keep the children in the home for just a little longer. Repeatedly women compare their own relief to their husband's distress ~ Lillian B. Rubin

People change and forget to tell each other. ~ Lillian Hellman

Every now and then the breeze carries a distinct hint of eau de sheep."
"Really?" Annabelle sniffed experimentally. "I don't smell a thing."
"That's because you don't have a nose," Lillian replied.
"I beg your pardon?" Annabelle asked with a quizzical grin.
"Oh, you have a regular sort of nose," Lillian explained, "but I have 'a nose.' I'm unusually sensitive to smell. Give me any perfume, and I can separate it into all its parts. Rather like listening to a musical chord and dividing all its notes. Before we left New York, I even helped to develop a formula for scented soap, for my father's factory."
"Could you create a perfume, do you think?" Annabelle asked in fascination.
"I daresay I could create an excellent perfume," Lillian said confidently. ~ Lisa Kleypas

Single people want relationships, settled people wonder if they're missing out on something, traveling types miss stability, stable ones are restless, old friends want new friends, new friends miss old friends, and basically almost everyone my age has some dangling worry trailing around after them everywhere that they're somehow not doing everything, that what they're doing is not altogether the right thing, that they are missing out. … Do not be ashamed. The doubt is natural, and everyone you know – yes, even that person – carries it sometimes too. Allow yourself to be peaceful. Allow yourself satisfaction in what you have. If you really don't like it, allow yourself permission to make changes. ~ Lillian Schneider

I can't get it out," she said.
"Just pull at it."
"It hurts. It's throbbing."
"Pull harder."
"I can't! It's truly stuck. I need something to make it slippery. Do you have some sort of lubricant nearby?"
"No."
"Not anything?"
"Much as it may surprise you, we've never needed lubricant in the library before now. ~ Lisa Kleypas

No one can argue any longer about the rights of women. It's like arguing about earthquakes. ~ Lillian Hellman

Westcliff thinks that St. Vincent is in love with you."
Evie choked a little and didn't dare look up from her tea. "Wh-why does he think that?"
"He's known St. Vincent from childhood, and can read him fairly well. And Westcliff sees an odd sort of logic in why you would finally be the one to win St. Vincent's heart. He says a girl like you would appeal to ... hmm, how did he put it? ... I can't remember the exact words, but it was something like ... you would appeal to St. Vincent's deepest, most secret fantasy."
Evie felt her cheeks flushing while a skirmish of pain and hope took place in the tired confines of her chest. She tried to respond sardonically. "I should think his fantasy is to consort with as many women as possible."
A grin crossed Lillian's lips. "Dear, that is not St. Vincent's fantasy, it's his reality. And you're probably the first sweet, decent girl he's ever had anything to do with. ~ Lisa Kleypas

Leaving off her rock kicking, Daisy regarded Lillian with a frown. "I've been wondering…why are we so determined to marry into the peerage, and live in a huge crumbly old house and eat slimy English food, and try to give instructions to a bunch of servants who have absolutely no respect for us?"
"Because it's what Mother wants," Lillian replied dryly. "And because no one in New York will have either of us." It was an unfortunate fact that in the highly striated New York society, men with newly earned fortunes found it quite easy to marry well. But heiresses with common bloodlines were desired neither by the established blue bloods nor by the nouveau riche men who wanted to better themselves socially. Therefore, husband hunting in Europe, where upper-class men needed rich wives, was the only solution.
Daisy's frown twisted into an ironic grin. "What if no one will have us here either?"
"Then we'll become a pair of wicked old spinsters, romping back and forth across Europe. ~ Lisa Kleypas

Coming up behind her, Westcliff settled his hands at her waist, easily dodging her attempts to throw him off. He pulled her hips back firmly against his and spoke against her ear. "Are you angry because I started making love to you, or because I didn't finish?"
Lillian licked her dry lips. "I'm angry, you bloody big hypocrite, because you can't make up your mind about what to do with me." She punctuated the comment with the hard jab of one elbow back against his ribs."

~ Marcus and Lillian ~ Lisa Kleypas

The society girl meets more dangers than the girl on the stage. There is more danger at a tango tea than in the theatre. The actor is less dangerous than the dancing master. ~ Lillian Russell

People always sound so proud when they announce they know nothing of music. ~ Lillian Hellman

Lillian had come to the realization that gifts were mostly for the people who gave them. ~ Anna Solomon

Smiling wistfully at the thought of her beloved sister, Daisy felt a wave of loneliness sweep over her. She and Lillian had always been together, arguing, laughing, getting each other into scrapes, and rescuing each other whenever possible. Naturally she was happy that Lillian had met her perfect match in the strong-willed Westcliff... but that didn't stop Daisy from missing her terribly. And now that the other wallflowers, including Evie, had found husbands, they were part of the mysterious married world that Daisy was still excluded from. She was going to have to find a husband soon. Some nice, sincere gentleman who would share her love of books. A man who wore spectacles, and liked dogs and children. ~ Lisa Kleypas

Good God-is there nothing you won't stoop to?"
"If there is," Lillian replied smartly, "I haven't discovered it yet. ~ Lisa Kleypas

Surely, somewhere in the back of Bulfinch, in a part Lillian had not gotten to, there is an obscure (abstruse, arcane, shadowy, and even hidden) version of Proserpine in he Underworld in which a tired Jewish Ceres schleps through the outskirts of Tartarus, an ugly village of tired whores who must double as laundresses and barbers, a couple of saloons, a nearly empty five-and-dime, and people too poor to pull up stakes. In this version, Ceres looks all over town for her Proserpine, who crossed the River Cyane in a pretty sailboat with Pluto, having had the good sense to come to an understanding with the king early on. Pluto and Proserpine picnic in a charming park, twinkling lights overhead and handsome wide benches like the ones in Central Park. When Ceres comes, tripping a little on her hem as she walks through the soft grass, muttering and trying to yank Proserpine to her feet so they can start the long trip home to Enna and daylight (which has lost much of its luster, now that Proserpine is queen of all she surveys), the girl does not jump up at the sight of her mother, but takes her time handing out the sandwiches and pours cups of sweetened tea for the three of them. She lays a nicely ironed napkin in her lap and another in the lap of her new husband, the king. Proserpine does not eat the pomegranate seeds by mistake, or in a moment of desperate hunger, or fright, or misunderstanding. She takes the pomegranate slice out of her husband's dark and glittering hand and pulls ~ Amy Bloom

Most people coming out of war feel lost and resentful. What had been a minute-to-minute confrontation with yourself, your struggle with what courage you have against discomfort, at the least, and death at the other end, ties you to the people you have known in the war and makes for a time others seem alien and frivolous. ~ Lillian Hellman

On July 13, 1925, Walt and Lillian were married. They spent their honeymoon at Mount Rainier. On their wedding night, Walt had such a bad toothache that he couldn't sleep. To take his mind off the pain, he left their room and helped a porter shine shoes all night. The next morning he went to a dentist and had his tooth pulled. It certainly wasn't the most fun way to start off a marriage. But Walt had a good story to tell. ~ Whitney Stewart

If you believe, as the Greeks did, that man is at the mercy of the gods, then you write tragedy. The end is inevitable from the beginning. But if you believe that man can solve his own problems and is at nobody's mercy, then you will probably write melodrama. ~ Lillian Hellman

It wasn't a meaningless act for me either," Marcus said, his raspy whisper tickling her ear. "Yesterday I finally realized that all the things that I thought were wrong about you were actually the things I enjoyed most. I don't give a damn what you do, so long as it pleases you. Run barefoot on the front lawn. Eat pudding with your fingers. Tell me to go to hell as often as you like. I want you just as you are. After all, you're the only woman aside from my sisters who has ever dared to tell me to my face that I'm an arrogant ass. How could I resist you?" His mouth moved to the soft cushion of her cheek. "My dearest Lillian," he whispered, easing her head back to kiss her eyelids. "If I had the gift of poetry, I would shower you with sonnets. But words have always been difficult for me when my feelings are strongest. And there is one word in particular that I can't bring myself to say to you...'goodbye'. I couldn't bear the sight of you walking away from me. If you won't marry me for the sake of your honor, then do it for the sake of everyone who would have to tolerate me otherwise. Marry me because I need someone who will help me to laught at myself. Because someone has to teach me how to whistle. Marry me, Lillian...because I have the most irresistable fascination for your ears. ~ Lisa Kleypas

Enthusiasm and optimism together. He was enthusiastic about everything. He never thought anything would turn out badly.
----Lillian Disney (on Walt) ~ Marcy Carriker Smothers

He looked down at her, finding it difficult to resist the urge to climb over her prone body and kiss her senseless. "Would you mind telling me why you were drinking pear brandy in the middle of the afternoon?"
"Because I couldn' open the sherry."
His lips twitched.
-Marcus & Lillian ~ Lisa Kleypas

They are trying to hold on to a world that no longer exists. They are blind and terrified because they feel it slipping away from them. They are gripping thin air but they keep trying desperately to hold on to it - hoping the air will turn into something familiar and solid. ~ Lillian E. Smith

Her parents and Seraphina were there to keep her company, as were Lord and Lady Westcliff, whom she and her siblings had always called "Uncle Marcus" and "Aunt Lillian."
Lord Westcliff's hunting estate, Stony Cross Park, was located in Hampshire, not far from Eversby Priory. The earl and his wife, who had originally been an American heiress from New York, had raised three sons and three daughters. Although Aunt Lillian had teasingly invited Phoebe to have her pick of any of her robust and handsome sons, Phoebe had answered- quite truthfully- that such a union would have felt positively incestuous. The Marsden and the Challons had spent too many family holidays together and had known each other for too long for any romantic sparks to fly between their offspring. ~ Lisa Kleypas

His hair was mussed, and his teeth were very white in his swarthy, dust-streaked face. With his autocratic facade stripped away, and his eyes sparkling with enjoyment, his grin was so unexpectedly engaging that Lillian experienced a curious melting sensation inside. Hanging over him, she felt her own lips curving in a reluctant smile. A loose lock of her hair dangled free of its tether, sliding silkily over his jaw.
"What's a trebuchet?" she asked.
"A catapult. I have a friend who has a keen interest in medieval weaponry. He…" Westcliff hesitated, a new tension seeming to spread through his taut body as he lay beneath her. "He recently built a trebuchet using an ancient design…and enlisted me to help fire it…"
Lillian was entertained by the idea that the normally reserved Westcliff was capable of such boyish antics. Realizing that she was straddling him, she colored and began to wriggle off him. "Your aim was off?" she asked, striving to sound casual.
"The owner of the stone wall we demolished seemed to think so." The earl caught his breath sharply as her body slid away from his, and remained sitting on the ground even after she had gotten to her feet. ~ Lisa Kleypas

Whatever else we may say about sex, it is at least as much a social and psychological phenomenon as it is a biological one. ~ Lillian B. Rubin

A pity that she gets so upset about little things, isn't it?"
"Like the time we sneaked the greased piglet into Mrs. Astor's parlor."
Smiling reminiscently, Lillian knelt before the door and worked the pin into the lock. "You know, I've always wondered why Mother didn't appreciate that we did it in her defense. Something had to be done after Mrs. Astor wouldn't invite Mother to her party."
"I think Mother's point was that putting livestock in someone's house does little to recommend us as future party guests."
"Well, I didn't think that was nearly as bad as the time we set off the Roman candle in the store on Fifth Avenue."
"We were obligated to do that, after that salesman had been so rude. ~ Lisa Kleypas

I have learned that love is often strongest where it is most threatened. Where it is most terrorised is where it most profusely grows.

Lillian White
I Would Send You Poppies ~ Lillian White

Hammett used to be irritated by that and would answer that nobody ever deliberately wrote a potboiler, you just did the best you could and woke up to find it good or no good. ~ Lillian Hellman

Lillian laughs and rolls her eyes. Do I look like I know the answer to that? I always just locked on to the target and then followed it all the way down. ~ Brenna Yovanoff

Beginning to feel that her brother was being rather too harsh on Lillian Bowman, Livia frowned. "She's a very pretty girl, Marcus."
"A pretty facade isn't enough to make up for the flaws in her character."
"Which are?"
Marcus made a faint scoffing sound, as if Miss Bowman's faults were too obvious to require enumeration. "She's manipulative."
"So are you, dear," Livia murmured.
He ignored that. "She's domineering."
"As are you."
"She's arrogant."
"Also you," Livia said brightly.
Marcus glowered at her. "I thought we were discussing Miss Bowman's faults, not mine."
"But you seem to have so much in common," Livia protested, rather too innocently. ~ Lisa Kleypas

And she realized that she still wanted Jared when all thoughts of passion were dead, when other consolation seemed like a cruel joke - that she wanted to be with him when the thought of being with anyone else was unbearable, when the thought of someone else touching her made her want to scream. ~ Sarah Rees Brennan

Lonely. I always thought loneliness meant alone, without people. It means something else. ~ Lillian Hellman

Break the cinnamon in half.'

The cinnamon stick was light, curled around itself like a brittle roll of papyrus. Not a stick at all, Lillian remembered as she look closer, but bark, the meeting place between inside and out. It crackled as she broke it, releasing a spiciness, part heat, part sweet, that pricked her eyes and nose, and made her tongue tingle without even tasting it. ~ Erica Bauermeister

Nothing, of course, begins at the time you think it did. ~ Lillian Hellman

I would have so loved to learn about the Vikings."
Lillian snorted. "Since when have you been interested in warlike pagans with silly-looking headgear?"
Daisy looked up from her book again. "Are we talking about Grandmother again? ~ Lisa Kleypas

Since when do we have to agree with people to defend them from injustice? ~ Lillian Hellman