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Quote by P.J. Harvey

“Oh, wind and rain may haunt me, Look to the north and pray. Send me, please, his kisses; Send them home today. I'm begging Jesus, 'Please, Send his love to me!' Left alone in desert, This house becomes a hell, This love becomes a tether, This room becomes a cell. Mummy, Daddy, please, Send him back to me! How long must I suffer? Dear God, I've served my time. This love becomes my torture; This love, my only crime. Oh, lover, please release me. My arms too weak to grip, My eyes too dry for weeping, My lips too dry to kiss. Calling Jesus, 'Please, Send his love to me!”

Quote by P.J. Harvey

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P.J. Harvey

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“We all have a heart to give. What better time than now to start giving it more? What is it that you desire for humanity? Well what is it that you desire for yourself? What you desire for yourself is what you desire for all. Often we can figure out what we want by looking within. What has been your greatest desire your whole life? When we give what we want the most, we are given back much, much more. This cycle will continue the more you give. You will feel so abundant and loved, you'll be shining with glee for miles and miles.”

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“Anna loves Ted, but she does not want him in a way that causes her to suffer; she does not want him desperately, despite herself. And it turns out that is how Ted has always wanted to be wanted: the way he has always wanted women. The way Anna wanted Marco, and he wanted Anna, and Rachel (or so it seems, in retrospect) wanted him. In the absence of this painful wanting, Ted has trouble getting hard.”

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“Where am I?" He did not answer immediately. Since entering the room, he had kept his focus locked on her face. But Lily watched as the direction of his gaze slid down her body. His perusal was slow and comprehensive, sliding over her breasts and continuing past the curve of her hips and down her bare legs beyond the short hem of her shift. Though he revealed nothing in his stony expression, there was something in the gleam of his blue-black eyes that brought a delicate quiver to Lily's belly. She glanced at his hands where they fell at his sides. He held them tensely extended, his long fingers spreading wide, before he clenched them into tight fists as he finished his slow review of her body. By the time the path of his perusal made its way back to her face, Lily was breathless and hot with a different kind of fear and... something else. "You are in my bedroom." The intimate depth of his voice struck Lily with an acute force. Her head spun, and her legs collapsed. As she tensed for a collision with the floor, she was swept up in strong arms. The fire raging beneath her skin flared with bright intensity as Lord Harte scooped his arms beneath her legs and around her back to lift her high against his chest. It took only a few short moments for him to set her back on the bed. He released her abruptly to flip the bedcovers over her, then turned and strode away. Lily was left with the striking impressions of his body's warmth, the strength of his arms around her, the woodsy scent of his skin, the brush of his embroidered waistcoat felt through the muslin of her shift, and then the sight of his broad back as he walked away, putting the entire distance of the room between them.”

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“From the moment Lord Harte had entered the bedroom, she had begun to experience everything differently. Her thoughts, feelings, and reactions originated from a deeper source. Her fear and confusion had made way for other, more urgent sensations. The longer she sat under the earl's harsh and heady regard, the further she slipped into a state of expectancy. She felt on the verge of something, but she had no idea what. As the weakness in her mind and limbs continued to dissipate, she acknowledged that she could not blame her odd reactions on the aftereffects of the drug. He was the cause of her heightened responses. It was more than the wealth of secrets and mystery contained behind his midnight eyes. It was how he made her feel. Intrinsically. Viscerally. When he looked at her with his hooded gaze, she experienced something in the marrow of her bones, in the blood flowing through her veins, in the ether of her mind.”

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“Of course," she muttered with a rough laugh that was far from humorous, "how foolish of me to consider such a thing when I have seen the evidence of your loathing myself." "Loathing? Oh yes, I despise you." Avenell murmured darkly. The sarcasm dripping from his harsh words sent a shiver down her spine. He lowered his chin but did not break eye contact. "I would love to show you in a thousand ways just how much I loathe you, Miss Chadwick." As he spoke, his expression slowly shifted. It felt as though he allowed his facade to fall away, giving her a glimpse of the truth beneath before he shuttered his features again. For a brief moment, she again detected that hunger she had first seen on the night they had collided outside the Mawbrys' town house. It left her breathless. In a blast of heat and trembling awareness, she understood that what she had been seeing in him all along had never been anger or revulsion. It was desire, possibly as deep and complex as her own. The revelation stunned her.”

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“If I took you as my own, one night would not be nearly enough." Her gray eyes darkened, and her voice was a thick murmur. "Then take more." There was no hesitation in her reply, no coy flirtation. The words were a perfect blend of plea and command. Just as her manner was equal parts vulnerability and strength, courage and beauty. Avenell's chest tightened with a feeling he could not identify. He could do nothing beyond acknowledging it was something more than lust and so much more than the desire to possess. He was helpless to resist the sensation as it traveled through his bloodstream, leaving him in a state of heightened anticipation.”

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