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Quote by Sarah MacLean

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Nine Rules to Break When Romancing a Rake

This book explores the unconventional ways of engaging in romance, particularly with a rakish character, by suggesting rules to break in the pursuit of love. more

Author

Sarah MacLean
Sarah MacLean

Sarah MacLean, born on December 17, 1978, is a renowned American historical fiction author. Her works are set in 18th-century England and depict love, power, and adventure of that era. MacLean's novels have gained great popularity among readers and have won numerous literary awards. more

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“A cunning smile tilted up the corners of Calli's mouth. "Clio said it best during our concert for the gods. Those other writers had better move to the side, because there's a new voice in town, and I plan to write the most epic tales this world has ever seen. And after I write them, the Muses will sing them in our own unique style." Thalia lifted her hands in the air and sang, "And that's the gospel truth!”

“[James M. Buchanan] directed hostility toward college students, public employees, recipients of any kind of government assistance, and liberal intellectuals. His intellectual lineage went back to such bitter establishment opponents of Populism as the social Darwinists Herbert Spencer and William Graham Sumner. The battle between "the oppressed and their oppressors," as one People's Party publication had termed it in 1892, was redefined in his milieu: "the working masses who produce" became businessmen, and "the favored parasites who prey and fatten on the toil of others" became those who gained anything from government without paying proportional income taxes. "The mighty struggle" became one to hamstring the people who refused to stop making claims on government.”

“I dreamed of insurmountable evidence, scholarly respectability, publications, and lectures. I have boxes and boxes of neatly indexed note cards, each describing some small brick in a vast wall of research: an Indonesian story about a golden tree whose boughs made a shimmering archway; a reference in a Gaelic hymn to the angels who fly through heaven's gate; the memory of a carven wood doorway in Mali, sand-weathered and blackened by centuries of secrets.”