Gail Carriger Quotes
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Steampunk is...the love child of Hot Topic and a BBC costume drama
No one ever explained the octopuses.
It's no good choosing your first husband from a school for evil geniuses. Much too difficult to kill.
I am rather fond of ladybugs. They are so delightfully hemispherical.
I suspect it may be like the difference between a drinker and an alcoholic; the one merely reads books, the other needs books to make it through the day.
How ghastly for her, people actually thinking, with their brains, and right next door. Oh, the travesty of it all.
The ill-informed masses included her own family among their ranks, a family that specialized in being both inconvenient and asinine.
Alexia figured, delightedly, that this meant he did, in fact, tend to traipse around his private apartments in the altogether. Marriage was becoming more and more of an attractive prospect.
Conall,” “Aye, Alexia?” He looked up at her. Was that fear in his caramel eyes? “I am going to take advantage of you,” she said
She took a moment to lament her lack of parasol. Every time she left the house, she felt keenly the absence of her heretofore ubiquitous accessory.
The important question is, what will your wear for a wedding dress, Alexia? You look horrible in white.
Spin the parasol three times and repeat after me: I shield in the name of fashion. I accessorize for one and all. Pursuit of truth is my passion. This I vow by the great parasol.
His eyes are peculiar. There is nothing in them, like an eclair without the cream filling. It's wrong, lack of cream.
Follow that porcupine!
One should do what one is best at on as large a scale as possible.
As with most things in life, Lady Maccon preferred the civilized exterior to the dark underbelly (with the exception of pork products, of course.)
But I don't want to be a vampire drone.' Sophronia winced. 'They'll suck my blood and make me wear only the very latest fashions.
Lord Akeldama sighed. 'You lovebirds, how will I endure such flirtations constantly in my company? How déclassé, Lord Maccon, to love your own wife.
Ivy Hisselpenny was the unfortunate victim of circumstances that dictated she be only-just-pretty, only-just-wealthy, and possessed of a terrible propensity for wearing extremely silly hats.
Poetry can cause irreparable harm when misapplied
[She] lost her patience, a thing she was all too prone to misplacing.
I never gossip. I observe. And then relay my observations to practically everyone.
The Gamma paused. “You have a crazed werewolf in your wine cellar?” “You can think of a better place to stash him?” “What about the wine?
My Hallway" remarked Lord Akeldama,"Has never seen such lively action. And That, my sugarplums, is saying something!
Acknowledgements With grateful thanks to the three least-appreciated and hardest-working proselytizers of the written word: independent bookstores, librarians, and teachers.
Which was why, some six hours later, Alexia Maccon's daughter was born inside the head of an octomaton in the presence of her husband, a comatose werewolf dandy, and a French inventor.
Oh, Lady Maccon, I am unreservedly in love with her. That black hair, that sweet disposition, those capital hats.
What’s wrong with you? Are you ill? I forbid you to be ill, wife.
Scotsmen, she had occasion to observe, often did have nice knees. Perhaps that was why they insisted upon kilts.
She was no closer to determining who might want her dead. There were just too many possibilities.
It was a constant source of amazement to Alexia that the only thing she had ever done in her entire life that pleased her mama was marry a werewolf.
Classic author moment, "Oh dear, did I kill that character or not?
Highland werewolves had a reputation for doing atrocious and highly unwarranted *things*, like wearing smoking jackets to the dinner table.
Cats were not, in her experience, an animal with much soul. Prosaic, practical little creatures as a general rule. It would suit her very well to be thought catlike.
And I find perfect beauty excessively boring, don't you?
...you have been fraternizing with warewolves overmuch! Military men can be terribly bad for one's verbal concatenation!
These feelings you engender in me, my lord, are most indelicate. You should stop causing them immediately.
Lord Maccon was built like a brick outhouse, with opinions twice as unmoving and often equally full of crap.
If there is gossip to be garnered, garner it. If there are new dress styles to be imitated, imitate them. If there are hearts to be broken, break them. That's my girls.
What do you want?" Sophronia was moved to exasperation. "Me? Stockings and breeches to come back in fashion. I do miss seeing a man's calves.
But we were talking about me and my problems." Sophronia looked Monique up and down gravely. "I don't think we're going to solve those in the space of one carriage ride.
Oh, Herbert," she said pleadingly to her silent husband, "you must make him marry her! Call for the parson immediately! Look at them... they are...," she sputtered, "canoodling!
The vampire's eyes were open, and he was staring at her intently. It was as though he were trying to speak to her with simply the power of a glare. Alexia did not speak glare-ish.
There are words to describe her, my dear, but one does not repeat them in polite company.
Ah, Ivy, thought Alexia happily, spreading a verbal fog wherever she goes.
So, what do you think, my dear, will it be a girl or a boy?” “It will be a soul-stealer, apparently.” “What!” The earl reared away from his wife and looked down at her suspiciously.
She filed the image away as an excellent and insulting question to ask the earl at an utterly inappropriate future moment.
No, Lord Maccon was riproaring, tumble down, without a doubt, pickled beyond the gherkin.
Lyall had spent centuries nibbling about the great layered cake that was polite society while Lord Akeldama acted the part of the frosting on its top.
Captain Niall, having apparently resigned himself to losing his quarry, was savaging her horsehair petticoat into teeny, tiny shreds. "Really, what did my poor petticoat do to offend?