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Quote by Meg Donohue

“Viburnum: A flowering shrub or tree in the moschatel family with showy clusters of white or pink-tinged blooms whose spicy, almondy, vanilla scent stirs transformation”

Quote by Meg Donohue

Book:The Memory Gardener
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The Memory Gardener

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Meg Donohue

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“A rare orchid that gives off its scent only at night," Nettle replied. "The petals are pure white, far more delicate even than jasmine. One cannot obtain the essence by heating the blossoms- they are too fragile." "Cold enfleurage, then?" Lillian murmured, referring to the process of soaking the precious petals in sheets of fat until it was saturated with their fragrance, then using an alcohol-based solvent to draw out the pure essence. "Yes." She took another breath of the exquisite essence. "What is the orchid's name?" "Lady of the Night." That elicited a delighted chuckle from Daisy. "That sounds like the title of one of the novels my mother has forbidden me to read.”

PerfumeLillian BowmanDaisy Bowman
Book:It Happened One Autumn
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“But why shouldn't I thank someone for doing me a service?" he heard Lillian ask with genuine perplexity. "It's polite to say thank you, isn't it?" "You should no more thank a servant than you would think a horse for allowing you to ride it, or a table for bearing the dishes you place upon it." "Well, we're not discussing animals or inanimate objects, are we? A footman is a person." "No," the countess said coldly. "A footman is a servant." "And a servant is a person," Lillian said stubbornly. The elderly woman sighed in exasperation. "Whatever your view of a footman is, you must not thank him at dinner. Servants neither expect nor desire such condescension, and if you insist on putting them in the awkward position of having to respond to your remarks, they will think badly of you... as will everyone else. Do not insult me with that vapid stare, Miss Bowman! You come from a family of means- surely you employed servants at your New York residence!" "Yes," Lillian acknowledged pertly, "but we talked to ours.”

Lillian BowmanBack Talk
Book:It Happened One Autumn
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“Every now and then the breeze carries a distinct hint of eau de sheep." "Really?" Annabelle sniffed experimentally. "I don't smell a thing." "That's because you don't have a nose," Lillian replied. "I beg your pardon?" Annabelle asked with a quizzical grin. "Oh, you have a regular sort of nose," Lillian explained, "but I have 'a nose.' I'm unusually sensitive to smell. Give me any perfume, and I can separate it into all its parts. Rather like listening to a musical chord and dividing all its notes. Before we left New York, I even helped to develop a formula for scented soap, for my father's factory." "Could you create a perfume, do you think?" Annabelle asked in fascination. "I daresay I could create an excellent perfume," Lillian said confidently.”

PerfumeSense Of SmellLillian Bowman
Book:Secrets of a Summer Night
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“Damn," Westcliff finally exclaimed. "I have occasional business dealings with their father. How am I supposed to face Thomas Bowman without remembering that I've seen his daughter in her underwear?" "Daughters," Simon corrected. "They were both there." "I only noticed the taller one." "Lillian?" "Yes, that one." A scowl crossed Westcliff's face. "Good God, no wonder they're all unmarried! They're heathens even by American standards. And the way that woman spoke to me, as if I should have been embarrassed to interrupt their pagan revelry-”

Lillian BowmanMarcus Westcliff
Book:Secrets of a Summer Night
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“But why shouldn't I thank someone for doing me a service?" he heard Lillian ask with genuine perplexity. "It's polite to say thank you, isn't it?" "You should no more thank a servant than you would thank a horse for allowing you to ride it, or a table for bearing the dishes you place upon it." "Well, we're not discussing animals or inanimate objects, are we? A footman is a person." "No," the countess said coldly. "A footman is a servant." "And a servant is a person," Lillian said stubbornly. The elderly woman sighed in exasperation. "Whatever your view of a footman is, you must not thank him at dinner. Servants neither expect nor desire such condescension, and if you insist on putting them in the awkward position of having to respond to your remarks, they will think badly of you... as will everyone else. Do not insult me with that vapid stare, Miss Bowman! You come from a family of means- surely you employed servants at your New York residence!" "Yes," Lillian acknowledged pertly, "but we talked to ours.”

Lillian BowmanBack Talk
Book:It Happened One Autumn
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“You are a rebellion, a useless retaliation against a ghost. And when the novelty of his vulgar bride wears thin, the earl will come to despise you as I do. But by then it will be too late. The lineage will be ruined." Lillian remained expressionless, though she felt the color drain from her face. No one, she realized, had ever looked at her with real hatred until now. It was clear that the countess wished every ill upon her short of death- perhaps not even barring that. Rather than shrink, cry, or protest, however, Lillian found herself launching a counterattack. "Maybe he wants to marry me as a retaliation against you, my lady. In which case I am delighted to serve as the means of reprisal.”

Lillian BowmanBack Talk
Book:It Happened One Autumn
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“Lillian tells everyone about her flaws," Daisy said, her brown eyes twinkling. "She's proud of them." "I do have a terrible temper," Lillian acknowledged smugly. "And I can curse like a sailor." "Who taught you to do that?" Annabelle asked. "My grandmother. She was a washerwoman. And my grandfather was the soap maker from whom she bought her supplies. Since she worked near the docks, most of her customers were sailors and dockers, who taught her words so vulgar that it would curl your hair ribbons to hear them.”

GrandmotherLillian Bowman
Book:Secrets of a Summer Night
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