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Quote by Robert Towne

“Jake Gittes: Do you accept people of the Jewish persuasion? Mr. Palmer: I'm sorry, we do not. Jake Gittes: Don't apologize - neither does Dad.”

Quote by Robert Towne

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Robert Towne, born on November 23, 1934, is a renowned American screenwriter known for his work in various genres, including crime, drama, and adventure. He is celebrated for his profound character development and intricate plot structures, making him one of the most influential screenwriters in film history. more

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“Among all Crafts this [i.e. clothing manufacture] was the onely chiefe, for that it was the greatest merchandize, by the which our Countrey became famous through all Nations. And it was verily thought, that the one halfe of the people in the land liued in those daies therby, and in such good sort, that in the Common-wealth there were few or no beggers at all : poore people, whom God lightly blesseth with most children, did by meanes of this occupation so order them, that by the time that they were come to be sixe or seuen yeares of 20 age, they were able to get their owne bread : Idlenesse was then banished our coast, so that it was a rare thing to heare of a thiefe in those daies”

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Source: His Pleasant Historie of Thomas of Reading And Three Ballads On The Spanish Armada

“The hope that good old days will come back never goes away. They come back sometimes – but then we are so focused on good old days that we fail to recognise good present days.”

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“I am reading," she replied loftily to his question, and then glanced down at the book. She blinked in surprise. A rude engraving covered the page. The gentleman walked to her, his movements graceful. Sinuous. He reminded her of a viper gliding toward a particularly plump sparrow--- the sparrow in this case being she. He stopped in front of her, so close Elspeth could see the small wrinkles at the corners of his eyes when he narrowed them again. "Are you?" His gaze flicked down to the illustration of... a couple? Possibly two couples? There were a confusing number of limbs. One ebony eyebrow rose censoriously as he looked back at her. "Reading, that is?" Quite unfair that she was unable to raise her eyebrow in return. She felt heat invade her cheeks. "Yes.”

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Source: No Ordinary Duchess

“They squeezed together, the gentleman with his back against the window and Elspeth between his legs. The door opened. Candlelight suddenly brightened the room below as someone--- two someones--- walked into the library. The gentleman tightened his hold about her middle. Her bottom was firmly wedged against the V of his thighs, his heat enfolding her. Elspeth had to pull her mind away from the sensation of his breath against the nape of her neck to listen to the men below.”

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“He shook her. "Listen to me!" She looked him in the eye and said very gently, "No." And his fear and frustration and longing, and all that he'd kept so carefully tamped down deep inside himself, simply exploded. He pulled her roughly into his arms and bent his head to devour her lips. She was sweet and soft, and her taste was like balm for his wounded soul. He opened her mouth with his tongue, thrusting inside almost desperately, as if her depths held all the secrets he needed to sustain life. She moaned low in her throat, so softly he felt more than heard it, a tremor against his lips, and he moved his hand to her jaw so that he might press his thumb against the pulse of her throat and understand the emotions that swept through her.”

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“Are you this way with everyone you know? So abrupt and dismissive?" "What do you care?" he sneered. She exhaled forcefully, having lost all patience. "I care because I breathe and think and laugh and cry. I care because I'm alive. I suspect that you, Mr. Greycourt, have been dead for a very long time.”

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“The mare's ears flicked forward in interest. "Aren't you lovely?" Elspeth crooned to her. "I'm sorry I didn't think to bring you a treat. That was quite remiss of me." Plum had stopped by her feet, but now he ventured close to the horse. Elspeth watched. Octavia could hurt the dog should she wish. The mare merely lowered her head, snuffling curiously at Plum. Plum licked her nose. Octavia jerked her head back but then lowered it to blow at the dog and then shake her head as if in horsey laughter. Plum immediately went into a play bow--- the first that Elspeth had seen him make. She laughed. "Silly. How do you expect Octavia to play with you? She'd run right over if let loose." Julian sighed from the stall, and Elspeth glanced over to see him leaning on the pitchfork, watching her. "Octavia has never been as serious as her name," he said. "And she likes dogs." "Does she?" Elspeth asked in delight. Plum was now darting forward at the horse's legs, pretending to attack before retreating just as swiftly. Octavia watched bemusedly before stamping her hoof at the next attack, sending the dog into spins of excitement. Elspeth knit her brow, concerned that the horse would accidentally stomp on the dog, but Julian reassured her. "You needn't worry. Octavia knows to be gentle.”

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“He stalked to her, standing a full head or more taller than she. He was powerful, looming, looking barely restrained. But he was keeping himself in check. As if he were a high-tempered stallion, able to crush her, but bowing before her hands on his reins. The thought made her feel liquid.”

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