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Quote by Jojo Moyes

“The people of Baileyville were descended from Celts, from Scots and Irish families, who could hold on to resentment until it was dried out like beef jerky, and bearing no resemblance to its original self.”

Quote by Jojo Moyes

Book:The Giver of Stars
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The Giver of Stars

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Author

Jojo Moyes
Jojo Moyes

Jojo Moyes is a renowned British novelist known for her emotionally rich and engaging stories. Her works often focus on modern love and family relationships, which have won her a wide following. more

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“His steward and his housekeeper, both persons of sentiment, hoped that upon his death-bed he would remember her, and speak of her with a forgiving tongue, for it seemed to them incredible that so gentle and lovely a lady should hold no place in his heart or memory. They even indulged their fancies by supposing that his overt dislike of his elder son was caused by the secret pangs the sight of the fair boy, who was indeed the image of his mother, caused him to feel.”

Unforgiving
Book:The Quiet Gentleman
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“I looked across the table and caught Jack watching me while Chloe and Gage whispered sweet nothings to each other. "What are you looking at?" I demanded. "You." My heart squeezed in my chest. "Well, don't look at me. I would say don't talk to me, either, but we need to get this thing done." "Would it help if I apologized?" Sincerity oozed from every pore of his handsome face. It was incredibly irritating. "Apologize for what? For ghosting me? For kissing Clare? For failing to tell me about your past or your psychotic bunny-boiling ex? For making her so angry that she ratted us out to a Mafia boss who has threatened to kill me and my friends?”

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Book:'Til Heist Do Us Part
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“Clare can be our grease woman," Jack offered. "If we have to deal with a pressure-sensitive floor or lasers in the bunker or the vault, she'll be invaluable. She's very flexible and can get through tight spaces. I've seen her bend---" I choked and spat my drink in Jack's face. It wasn't intentional, but I was also not unhappy his face was in my way. "Dude..." Gage shook his head. "That's not what I meant." Jack dabbed at his face with a napkin. "She's a burglar. She's who people call if they need someone to scale a brick wall, descend from the ceiling via a series of cables, or maneuver around a laser hallway." I had a strong feeling Clare wasn't the type of person to do her flexible twisting and bending in jogging pants and a baggy tee. She would probably put on her whitest Lycra and ask Jack to set up a pretend laser field made out of string so he could watch her practice.”

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Book:'Til Heist Do Us Part
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“She often felt inconsequential in the world. It was only the sunrise and sunset, the clouds steadily moving overhead that provided her with the perspective of God’s long brush-like movements on earth. A history, an accounting, and miraculous interventions were moving along at a steady pace. Even if she couldn’t see the changes, changes were certainly turning as the hands on the clock turn. Someone was watching and ticking marks on a ledger. “Dear Father in heaven, may the words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart be acceptable in Your sight, my Redeemer.”

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Book:The Fearless Moral Inventory of Elsie Finch
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“IN DIRE STRAITS, WE HEAD STRAIGHT TO THE OCEAN The good Lord answered Beryl’s prayer when Dorjan came home next. On the cusp of the rainy season, when porch sitting Beryl was more inclined to watch tufts of moisture hung from invisible threads in fairytale skies than her playing children, he announced, “I have a will ‘ta move ‘ta the land of Hollywood and ‘burgeoning coastal developments,” like he’d read that phrase in a magazine. Then, he pressed on the horn in case she hadn’t heard his hollering. “I want a piece o’ that action, baby,” he said. “I can run my own company. ‘Reckon I know to do just about anything related to construction. Heya baby, why not?” He grinned as he rolled out of the driver’s seat. As she came down the steps to him, he smacked his thighs in a rhythm and did a fancy two-step. “The sun’s always shining. There’s bound to be work for me till I have no more need.” She went to hug him. “Lickety split, we’ll be going west… at the childr’n’s school break,” he said. That’s just what the Hudsons did. They left their free-of-charge huge, white house to the older brothers and sisters, taking brother Dennis along in the back seat with three of the children. Coalbert, sitting up front, sighed. “We’re just gonna leave the house like that? For someone other’n us to occupy, Daddy?” His heart was lying in that big white house with the wraparound porch. “Small thing. The place is tainted. It ‘taint yours and it ‘taint mine.” “I hope we get an indoor toilet, Mama!” Laila shouted. “Your daddy’s set on getting all the new things where we’re going to.”

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Author:Lynn Byk
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“Two months later, Gail brought Bill home to meet her parents, and Beryl, a nervous mama having heard so much about the gallant Navy boy, served up her best pot roast with onions, a heap of buttery mashed potatoes with Gail’s favorite gravy, and boiled carrots for Sunday dinner. Before dinner was served, they sat on the porch and made homemade ice cream together. Gail sat on the ice cream bucket while Bill churned—abiding the flirting of Baby Lou and worldly Laila, though married with a baby. The Navy boy couldn’t care less about the two sisters because he was busy pouring ice cubes and salt into the bucket, soon hidden again under Gail’s skirt. Coalbert, the working boy, accompanied by his cute girlfriend, Ivy, wasn’t going to be outdone by a crew cut. He started making pig squeals and then said, “Come on, piggy, I wanna kiss you!” This was the story that humiliated Gail the most. She hated when Coalbert told stories from their Arkansas childhood. “What’s with him?” Bill looked at Gail. Coalbert took over and explained how Gail had fallen in love with the baby pigs they had bought to ward off starvation in Western Grove. “She’d run chasing them through the mud and shit, ‘Come on, piggy, I wanna kiss you!’” Gail got off the ice cream bucket and walked into the house. Bill laughed and stayed on the porch with Coalbert and the sisters, shooting the breeze and catching up with stories to embarrass Gail.”

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Book:The Fearless Moral Inventory of Elsie Finch
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“MORE ON THIS TIDY STORY AS IT UNFOLDS “Here are your sheets, Mom, warm from the dryer. I’ll make us some lunch while you fold.” Elsie knew not to do everything for her mother because getting her mother active would help her blood circulation and help dispel the swelling in her feet. She dropped the armload of laundry on the ottoman beside her mother’s lounger. “I can’t fold sheets alone. Help me with these.” Of course. What was she thinking? Elsie turned to grasp a couple corners of her mother’s queen-sized fitted sheet. “I need to relearn how to fold these things, anyway.” Mother and daughter pulled and halved, tucked one corner inside another, and brought the ends together like partners in a square dance. Suddenly, Gail growled, “Oh!” Fed up, she grabbed the sheet from Elsie and wadded the whole thing into a roll. “I don’t remember how to do these things! Just stuff them into the linen closet, will you?” She laughed. “Okay. I was hoping you’d teach me how to do it.” “If you don’t know by sixty, daughter, it’s too late! My mom was always so good with linens. You should’a seen her linen closet. It was like the linen closets at Macy’s, all lined up. Mom took pride in her housekeeping, but I just don’t care anymore.” Elsie was noticing how she no longer cared about much of anything either. The proverbial rug had been pulled out from under her, and though she went through the motions of taking Gail’s vitals, dispensing her meds and massaging her feet, they often had little to say to one another. “Mom, why do you think the Bible says so often to remember this or remember that?” “Does it?” Gail gasped, “—talk about remembering?”

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Book:The Fearless Moral Inventory of Elsie Finch
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“Gail leapt from bed and went to sit in the tiny bathroom, seething with grief and anger. Then tears began to roll down her cheeks. To consider that her husband was arousing her as he spoke of his betrayal made her want to jump into the shower. That he expected this kind of arousal from her in a culture so far flung, confused her. The fact that he was not a virgin and further, that he hadn’t bothered to tell her this before the wedding, felt shameful. Waves of rage washed over the building layers of regret for marrying Rich. The way he played with her in the telling of it! His physical foreplay had readied her to try again, but now a sick feeling of remorse and hatred claimed her body. Gail stepped into the shower and steamed away her confusion, her disgust. Gail wiped her tears and asked Rich to go sleep on the couch while in the same sentence informing him that she would be seeking counsel in the morning. She omitted saying what kind of counsel she would seek. She hardly knew herself.”

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Book:The Fearless Moral Inventory of Elsie Finch
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