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“You're not content in your position as a factory owner and a rich heiress, you don't believe in your right to it, and now you can't sleep, which, of course, is certainly better than if you were content, slept soundly, and thought everything was fine. Your insomnia is respectable; in any event, it's a good sign. In fact, for our parents such a conversation as we're having now would have been unthinkable; they didn't talk at night, they slept soundly, but we, our generation, sleep badly, are anguished, talk a lot, and keep trying to decide if we're right or not. - A Medical Case”

“You're not giving up on this, are you?" His voice was a raspy murmur, so low she had to inch closer to be sure she wouldn't miss another precious word out of his mouth. Precious, because of the story, she insisted. Everything happening right now-breathing, thinking, speaking, being-felt fraught. And exciting. This emotion racing through her veins was the most alive she'd felt in years.”

“You're not going to answer, are you?" Jaenelle asked after a minute of teeth-grinding silence. "No." "Don't you know the answer?" "Whether I know the answer or not is beside the point. It's not something a man discusses with a young girl." "But you know the answer." Daemon growled.”

“You're not going to believe where we went," I announced triumphantly. I wanted to tell him about the Milky Way and stardust and how the moon had large craters on it that could be filled with water and how gravity-assist worked and how wormholes near Earth could send you to different parts of the universe in less than a second and how— "Oh, my lovely darling," Dad began, smiling and ushering us into the kitchen, "once the hot chocolate is ready, you can tell me all about it—and I'll believe it all. I'll believe everything.”

“You're not going to end it with me are you, Harry? Not this time?' 'No, I'm not' he replied without hesitation. 'Not this time'. Emma nodded slowly. 'I thought not'. Then she looked past him, avoiding his eye until she said 'then I must. I'm sorry Harry but I can't be your mistress. I could do it in France when everyday could have been our last. but not back here. Not in London. You understand that don't you?' and it was absolutely no consolation to Harry Walsh that he did.”

“You’re not going to fight me, Captain. This is the right call. You know it.” She marched me off the bridge and into the brilliant white passageway. “You think I’m just going to trust you’ll let me go?” I asked, getting a painful nudge in the back. “You don’t have a choice.” She was right about that. “Relax. I got your back, Cale.” “You’ve got a pistol in my back is what you’ve got.” “Just like old times.” Trust her? Well, shit.”

“You’re not going to handle me?” I call after him, shock raising my brows. “Not tonight!” he tosses over his shoulder. I scoff. “What are you waiting for?” “It’s no fun if you expect it,” he answers, striding into the darkness. “Now, get back to bed before your wingleader realizes you’re out after curfew.” “What?” I gawk after him. “You’re my wingleader!”

“You're not going to see any former suitors in Forest Crest, are you?" An impish twinkle appeared in her eyes. "No, Mr. Morgan, I was never courted by any of the village lads." "Why not? What in God's name is the matter with all of them?" "I was never receptive to their advances," Victoria said, settling herself more comfortably on his lap. "I was absorbed in taking care of Father, and reading books, and..." Tenderly she laid her head on his shoulder. "I suppose I was waiting for you," she said, and felt his arms tighten until he nearly crushed her.”

“You're not going to want to see him. Not tonight, Sorrengail.' Garrick warns with a grimace. 'Self-preservation is a thing. Notice we're not with him, and we're his best friends.' 'Yeah, well, I'm his...' I open my mouth and shut it a few times because... fuck if I know what I am to him. But the longing that holds my heart hostage, this driving need to be at his side because I know he's suffering, no matter if it means throwing myself headfirst into uncertainty... I can't deny what he is to me. I kick off the leather slippers of my dress uniform- they're more of a hazard than anything, and in this wind? Well, we'll see how it goes. 'I'm just... his.”