Violet Bridgerton Quotes

Last time I was in London, I visited Number 5, Bruton Street, which is the address I gave to Violet Bridgerton, the matriarch of the Bridgerton clan in my novels. It was a bit disconcerting to learn that it's actually a pub. ~ Julia Quinn

You can't marry her," Araminta insisted.
Benedict turned to his mother. "Is there any reason I need to consult Lady Penwood about this?"
"None that I can think of," Lady Bridgerton replied.
"She is nothing but a whore," Araminta hissed. "Her mother was a whore, and blood runs - urp!"
Benedict had her by the throat before anyone was even aware that he had moved. "Don't," he warned, "make me hit you."
The magistrate tapped Benedict on the shoulder. "You really ought to let her go."
"Might I muzzle her?"
The magistrate looked torn, but eventually he shook his head. ~ Julia Quinn

Charlotte Stokehurst," Violet Bridgerton announced, "is getting married."
"Today?" Hyacinth queried, taking off her gloves.
Her mother gave her a look. "She has become engaged. Her mother told me this morning."
Hyacinth looked around. "Were you waiting for me in the hall?"
"To the Earl of Renton," Violet added. "Renton."
"Have we any tea?" Hyacinth asked. "I walked all the way home, and I'm thirsty."
"Renton!" Violet exclaimed, looking about ready to throw up her hands in despair. "Did you hear me?"
"Renton," Hyacinth said obligingly. "He has fat ankles."
"He's - " Violet stopped short. "Why were you looking at his ankles? ~ Julia Quinn

Those whom God hath joined together, let no man put asunder.
A shiver raced down Daphne's spine, causing her to sway. In just a moment, she would belong to this man forever.
Simon's head turned slightly, his eyes darting to her face. Are you all right? his eyes asked.
She nodded, a tiny little jog of her chin that only he could see. Something blazed in his eyes - could it be relief?
I now pronounce you -
Gregory sneezed for a fourth time, then a fifth and sixth, completely obliterating the archbishop's "man and wife." Daphne felt a horrifying bubble of mirth pushing up her throat. She pressed her lips together, determined to maintain an appropriately serious facade.
Marriage, after all, was a solemn institution, and not one to be treating as a joke.
She shot a glance at Simon, only to find that he was looking at her with a queer expression. His pale eyes were focused on her mouth, and the corners of his lips began to twitch.
Daphne felt that bubble of mirth rising ever higher.
You may kiss the bride.
Simon grabbed her with almost desperate arms, his mouth crashing down on hers with a force that drew a collective gasp from the small assemblage of guests.
And then both sets of lips - bride and groom - burst into laughter, even as they remained entwined.
Violet Bridgerton later said it was the oddest kiss she'd ever been privileged to view.
Gregory Bridgerton - when he finished sneezing - said it ~ Julia Quinn

You are not going to waltz in here and distract me with a clever phrase and a beguiling smile."
"You think my smile is beguiling? ~ Julia Quinn

Hyacinth," Lady Bridgerton said in a vaguely disapproving voice, "do try to speak in complete sentences."
Hyacinth looked at her mother with a surprised expression. "Biscuits. Are. Good." She cocked her head to the side. "Noun. Verb. Adjective."
"Hyacinth."
"Noun. Verb. Adjective." Colin said, wiping a crumb from his grinning face. "Sentence. Is. Correct. ~ Julia Quinn

all adventures involving knowledge and imagination. When Marielle drives crosstown from east to west along Sherbrooke Street in her old Plymouth, aka 'Violet,' it is 'a carousel of history and geography,' it is about straddling grammar and going off to explore the inner recesses of the images and life irrigating the brain. ~ Nicole Brossard

He began to stand, and saw Lyon stiffen, poised to do whatever he needed to do. He, like Lyon, could throw himself on a pyre, too. Because fire cleansed. She'd won, and he'd lost.

It had stopped mattering. Her happiness was indistinguishable from his own. No matter what became of him, he wanted her to know he loved her.

"You'd best get out of here, Redmond. Your secret is safe with me."

Lyon's eyes flared in wary surprise. He froze. And his smile, when it came, was slow, and crooked, and he looked very like Lavay when Lavay was being insufferably knowing.

"Ah. You do love her more than life. Splendid. And that, my dear Lord Flint, is what I came here today to discover."

Whatever he felt was between him and Violet. "Go before I change my mind, Redmond. ~ Julie Anne Long

What did you think when I first told you about the animals I found?"
He seemed confused. It obviously wasn't what he'd expected. "Violet, I was seven years old. I thought it was badass. I think I was probably even jealous."
She made a face at him. "Didn't you think it was creepy? Or that I was weird?"
"Yeah," he agreed enthusiastically. "That's why I was so jealous. I wanted to be the one finding dead bodies. You were like an animal detective or something. You were only weird 'cause you were a girl." He grinned. "But I learned to overlook that since you always took me on such cool adventures."
Violet released a breath, smiling. She knew he was telling the truth, which only made it funnier to hear him saying the words out loud. Of course, what little boy didn't want to go scavenging through the woods and digging in the dirt?
She tried again. "Did you ever tell anyone? Does your mom know?"
He lifted her hand to his mouth and rubbed her knuckles across his lower lip, his gaze locked with hers. "No," he promised. "I swore I wouldn't, not even her. I think she knows something, or at least she thinks you have the worst luck ever, since you found all those dead girls." He lowered his voice. "She was really worried about you after the shooting last year. You're like a daughter to her." He leaned close. "Of course, that makes it kind of creepy when I do things like this."
He kissed her. It was intimate. Not soft or sweet this time, it was deep and pa ~ Kimberly Derting

Eloise, whose mouth was as sharp as Hyacinth's (though thankfully tempered by some discretion), had
remarked that they had best get Hyacinth married off quickly or their mother was going to become an
alcoholic. Lady Bridgerton had not appreciated the comment, although she privately thought it might be
true. ~ Julia Quinn

First of all, this goes no further than this room."
"Agreed," she said quickly.
Anthony looked pointedly at Simon.
"Of course," he replied.
"Mother would be devastated if she learned the truth."
"Actually," Simon murmured, "I rather think your mother would applaud our ingenuity, but since you have quite obviously known
her longer, I bow to your discretion."
Anthony shot him a frosty look. "Second, under no circumstances are the two of you to be alone together. Ever."
"Well, that should be easy," Daphne said, "as we wouldn't be allowed to be alone if we were courting in truth, anyway."
Simon recalled their brief interlude in the hall at Lady Danbury's house, and found it a pity that he wasn't to be allowed any more private time with Daphne, but he recognized a brick wall when he saw one, especially when said wall happened to be named
Anthony Bridgerton. So he just nodded and murmured his assent.
"Third - "
"There is a third?" Daphne asked.
"There would be thirty if I could think of them," Anthony growled.
"Very well," she acceded, looking most aggrieved. "If you must. ~ Julia Quinn

You are my lover and I am your mistress and kingdoms and empires and governments have tottered and succumbed before now to that mighty combination. ~ Violet Trefusis

Border crossings in the Balkans, where bitter wars have been waged, were not regarded as pleasurable; in many places, they weren't even possible, and one avoided them. But, while riding in the droshky and later, when we dismounted, we saw the most luxuriant orchards and vegetable gardens, dark-violet eggplants, peppers, tomatoes, cucumbers, gigantic pumpkins and melons; I couldn't get over my amazement at all the different things that grew here. "That's what it's like here", said Mother, "a blessed land. And it's a civilized land, no one should be ashamed of being born here. ~ Elias Canetti

Finally, I say, "long dark hair, blue-violet eyes, slender, tall, she had a Liz Taylor in Black Beauty thing going on." Reluctance sets in. Do I really want to put this together for him? "Like you," he says. Pandora's Box opens. Chocolate anyone? An abundance of heartbreak. Rare happiness. Plenty of self-destruction. Take your pick. Julia's got everything in here. ~ Katherine Owen

Say whatever is in your heart," Violet said. Her lips
twisted wryly. "And if that doesn't work, I suggest that
you take a book and knock him over the head with it."
Hyacinth blinked, then blinked again. "I beg your pardon."
"I didn't say that," Violet said quickly.
Hyacinth felt herself smile. "I'm rather certain you
did."
"Do you think?" Violet murmured, concealing her own
smile with her teacup.
"A large book," Hyacinth queried, "or small?"
"Large, I think, don't you?"
Hyacinth nodded. "Have we The Complete Works of
Shakespeare in the library?"
Violet's lips twitched. "I believe that we do."
Something began to bubble in Hyacinth's chest. Something
very close to laughter. And it felt so good to feel it
again.
"I love you, Mother," she said, suddenly consumed by
the need to say it aloud. "I just wanted you to know that."
"I know, darling," Violet said, and her eyes were shining
brightly. "I love you, too. ~ Julia Quinn

But she was already in. Gareth couldn't help but stand back in admiration. Hyacinth Bridgerton was clearly a natural born athlete.
Either that or a cat burglar. ~ Julia Quinn

Tell me what you and my dad were talking about."
Jay jerked away from her as if she'd just slapped him. And Violet realized that she might as well have. He sat up quickly, as if his mind had suddenly cleared from the sensuous haze, and abruptly the teasing grin was wiped clean from his face.
"Never mind," she blurted, trying to backpedal. "Forget I said anything." She wanted to go back to where they just were. But it was too late. The determined set of his jaw told her that.
"No," he said harshly. "I think we should talk about this, Violet." Even the way he said her name was suddenly hard and angry. "Your dad told me what happened today...out in the woods. He told me that you tracked down the guy who's been killing all the girls around here...that you put yourself in danger." Violet couldn't tell if he was angry or annoyed...or both. He ran his hand through his messy hair in an agitated gesture that indicated he was getting all worked up. "And it's not like it was the first time you've done that. Trouble seems to follow you wherever you go, and you're the only person I know who doesn't seem to care. I don't even want to think about what could have happened to you if I hadn't shown up last night while Grady was...assaulting you." He paused as if it really was too much to think about, and then he continued to rail at her. "You can't even go to the mall safely. I made a promise to your parents, and you just wandered off without even telling me where you were going ~ Kimberly Derting

My grandmother, a dim, stern figure, named her children Lily and Violet, which I guess from seeing a picture of my mother's paved, ugly backyard, was the nearest she came to a garden. ~ Emma Joy Crone

If it should turn out that we have mishandled our own lives as several civilizations before us have done, it seems a pity that we should involve the violet and the tree frog in our departure. ~ Loren Eiseley

That's where the importance of nurturing comes in; the already sculpted personality is not recast, but refined. Loving, caring families can sand and polish, but they can't chip away at a lawn ornament and turn it into Michelangelo's David. Or vice versa. Want another analogy? Regarding personality, I am convinced that at birth the cake is already baked. Nurture is the nuts or frosting, but if you're a spice cake you're a spice cake, and nothing is going to change you into an angel food. ~ Lorna Landvik

She felt his hands move to the fastening of his breeches, and then he swore under his breath as he was forced to roll off her in order to (in his words), "get the bloody things off." She couldn't help but chuckle at his profanity; he seemed to be having a much rougher time of it than she imagined was usual.
"You're laughing?" he asked, his brows rising into a daring arch.
"You should be glad I was already out of my gown," she told him. "Thirty-six cloth-covered buttons down the back."
He gave her a fearsome look. "It would not have survived. ~ Julia Quinn

To see you naked is to remember the Earth,
the smooth Earth, clean of horses,
the Earth without reeds, pure form,
closed to the future, confine of silver.
To see you naked is to understand the desire
of rain that looks for the delicate waist,
or the fever of the broad-faced sea
that cannot find the light of its cheek.
Blood will ring through the bedrooms
and will come with flaming swords,
but you will not know the hiding places
of the violet or the heart of the toad.
Your womb is a struggle of roots.
Your lips are a dawn without contour.
Under the lukewarm roses of the bed
the dead men moan, awaiting their return. ~ Federico Garcia Lorca

Violet Markey.There's more to you than meets the eye. ~ Jennifer Niven

You need to understand that love isn't all romance and flowers and great sex, Violet." I raised my eyebrows, but she didn't stop. "Real love takes work and effort and time. Real love is willing to wait while you sort your shit out, and is still there once you get your head on straight. ~ Brooke Moss

Jay's downstairs waiting."
With her father on one side, and the handrail on the other, Violet descended the stairs as if she were floating. Jay stood at the bottom, watching her, frozen in place like a statue.
His black suit looked as if it had been tailored just for him. His jacket fell across his strong shoulders in a perfect line, tapering at his narrow waist. The crisp white linen shirt beneath stood out in contrast against the dark, finely woven wool. He smiled appreciatively as he watched her approach, and Violet felt her breath catch in her throat at the striking image of flawlessness that he presented.
"You...are so beautiful," he whispered fervently as he strode toward her, taking her dad's place at her arm.
She smiled sheepishly up at him. "So are you."
Her mom insisted on taking no fewer than a hundred pictures of the two of them, both alone and together, until Violet felt like her eyes had been permanently damaged by the blinding flash. Finally her father called off her mom, dragging her away into the kitchen so that Violet and Jay could have a moment alone together.
"I meant it," he said. "You look amazing."
She shook her head, not sure what to say, a little embarrassed by the compliment.
"I got you something," he said to her as he reached inside his jacket. "I hope you don't mind, it's not a corsage."
Violet couldn't have cared less about having flowers to pin on her dress, but she was curious about what he had brou ~ Kimberly Derting

O beautiful white land,
olives and wild anemone and violet
mingled among the shale,
and purple wings
of little winter-butterflies
say, here Psyche, the soul, lies. ~ Hilda Doolittle

He woke up frozen stiff. A cold dawn was lighting up the peaks on the other side of the valley, making them shine like giant lanterns. Above, through the broken bones of the roof, he could see the sky, clear now, a deep violet blue, waiting for the sun to breach the mountaintops. The snow clouds had gone, off to bother someone else. Where he lay was still dark, wrapped in leftover shadows. The wall, so deliciously warm when he'd fallen asleep, was like ice, sucking the heat out of him, but what had woken him were screams. Long piercing screams, over and over. ~ Stephen Deas

I've been trying to redefine fragrance since I was a child - before I was ten. Throughout my life, certain fragrance notes have captured my imagination - especially liquorice, violet and anise, flooding back into my consciousness. ~ Lolita Lempicka

I don't like your tone, was Violet's standard answer when one of her children was winning an argument. ~ Julia Quinn

If I were to search for logic, I would not look for it among the English upper class. ~ Lady Violet

The formal dinner was a great success. Every time Harry glanced at the other end of the long table, he saw that Poppy was acquitting herself splendidly. She was relaxed and smiling, taking part in conversation, appearing to charm her companions. It was exactly as Harry had expected: the same qualities that were considered faults in an unmarried girl were admired in a married woman. Poppy's acute observations and her enjoyment of lively debate made her far more interesting than a demure society miss with a modest downcast gaze.
She was breathtaking in the violet gown, her slender neck encircled with diamonds, her hair rich with dark fire. Nature had blessed her with abundant beauty. But it was her smile that made her irresistible, a smile so sweet and brilliant that it warmed him from the inside out.
Harry wished she would smile at him like that. She had, in the beginning. There had to be something that would induce her to warm to him, to like him again. Everyone had a weakness.
In the meantime, Harry stole glances of her whenever he could, his lovely and distant wife... and he drank in the smiles she gave to other people. ~ Lisa Kleypas

But once Violet saw the inheret sadness in one thing, she couldn't stop. ~ Maria Semple

Before his and Pushkin's advent Russian literature was purblind. What form it perceived was an outline directed by reason: it did not see color for itself but merely used the hackneyed combinations of blind noun and dog-like adjective that Europe had inherited from the ancients. The sky was blue, the dawn red, the foliage green, the eyes of beauty black, the clouds grey, and so on. It was Gogol (and after him Lermontov and Tolstoy) who first saw yellow and violet at all. That the sky could be pale green at sunrise, or the snow a rich blue on a cloudless day, would have sounded like heretical nonsense to your so-called "classical" writer, accustomed as he was to the rigid conventional color-schemes of the Eighteenth Century French school of literature. Thus the development of the art of description throughout the centuries may be profitably treated in terms of vision, the faceted eye becoming a unified and prodigiously complex organ and the dead dim "accepted colors" (in the sense of "idées reçues") yielding gradually their subtle shades and allowing new wonders of application. I doubt whether any writer, and certainly not in Russia, had ever noticed before, to give the most striking instance, the moving pattern of light and shade on the ground under trees or the tricks of color played by sunlight with leaves. ~ Vladimir Nabokov

So she way awake at night and at times there was a curious peacefulness to this, the darkness warm as though the deep violet duvet held its color unseen, wrapping around Pam some soothing aspect of her youth, as her mind wandered over a life that felt puzzingly long; she experienced a quiet surprise that so many lifetimes could be fit into one. ~ Elizabeth Strout

In the first week of April the weather turned suddenly, unseasonably, insistently lovely. The sky was blue, the air warm and windless, and the sun beamed on the muddy ground with all the sweet impatience of June. Toward the fringe of the wood, the young trees were yellow with the first tinge of new leaves; woodpeckers laughed and drummed in the copses and, lying in bed with my window open, I could hear the rush and gurgle of the melted snow running in the gutters all night long.
In the second week of April everyone waited anxiously to see if the weather would hold. It did, with serene assurance. Hyacinth and daffodil bloomed in the flower beds, violet and periwinkle in the meadows; damp, bedraggled white butterflies fluttered drunkenly in the hedgerows. I put away my winter coat and overshoes and walked around, nearly light-headed with joy, in my shirtsleeves. ~ Donna Tartt

Violet sniffed and shot him a haughty look. "I should not be so quick to mock me, my son. I merely point out the truth. You should be down on your hands and knees thanking your maker every day that you don't have to marry an heiress. Most men don't have the luxury of free will when it comes to marriage, you know."
Anthony just smiled. "I should be thanking my maker? Or my mother?"
"You are a beast."
He clucked her gently under the chin. "A beast you raised."
"And it wasn't an easy task," she muttered. "I can assure you of that."

-Violet & Anthony ~ Julia Quinn

I think of all that happened since finding her. Barely a blink in my existence, but everything has changed ... We love the ones we hate.
And I hate her with all my heart ~ Jessica Shirvington

Jacob thought about going home. He still had some American change, which he kept in an empty matchbox in his sock drawer, and one night, after he had finished his pancakes and jam, he took the coins out, spread them on the kitchen table, and admired the burnt sienna patina of one of the pennies, which in the candlelight was iridescent with violet and green where people's touch had salted it. The portrait of Lincoln was ugly and noble, and Jacob took off his glasses to look more closely. On the other side, an erratic line of shrubbery was engraved beside the Lincoln monument's steps. The idealism seemed to be in Lincoln rather than in the coin's design, which was homely. It was so homely, in fact, that there was a kind of democratic grandeur to it. It was the most beautiful currency in the world. Jacob was on the verge of tears. ~ Caleb Crain