Georgette Heyer
Georgette Heyer
Georgette Heyer /ˈheɪ.ər/was an English historical romance and detective fiction novelist. Her writing career began in 1921, when she turned a story for her younger brother into the novel The Black Moth. In 1925 Heyer married George Ronald Rougier, a mining engineer. The couple spent several years living in Tanganyika Territory and Macedonia before returning to England in 1929. After her novel These Old Shades became popular despite its release during the General Strike, Heyer determined that publicity was not...
NationalityBritish
ProfessionNovelist
Date of Birth16 August 1902
Will you marry me, vile and abominable girl that you are? Yes, but, mind, it only to save my neck from being wrung!
Eccentricity may be diverting, Mama, but it is out of place in a wife: certainly in my wife!
Miss Grantham's sense of humour got the better of her at this point, and, tottering towards a chair, she sank into it, exclaiming in tragic accents:'Oh Heavens! I am betrayed!' His lordship blenched; both he and miss Laxton regarded her with guilty dismay. Miss Grantham buried her face in her handkerchief, and uttered one shattering word: 'Wretch!
As soon as one promises not to do something, it becomes the one thing above all others that one most wishes to do.
No one could have called Mr. Standen quick-witted, but the possession of three sisters had considerably sharpened his instinct of self-preservation.
Only trust me! You have fallen into a fit of despondency and there is not the least need! In fact, nothing could be more fatal, in any predicament! It encourages one to suppose that there is nothing to be done, when a little resolution is all that is wanted to bring matters to a happy conclusion.
There is nothing so mortifying as to fall in love with someone who does not share one's sentiments.
I think myself I ought to be shot for writing such nonsense.... But it's unquestionably good escapist literature and I think I should rather like it if I were sitting in an air-raid shelter or recovering from flu.
But it is only in epic tragedies that gloom is unrelieved. In real life tragedy and comedy are so intermingled that when one is most wretched ridiculous things happen to make one laugh in spite of oneself.
It was growing late, and though one might stand on the brink of a deep chasm of disaster, one was still obliged to dress for dinner.
Those fine eyes of hers had a disconcertingly direct gaze, and very often twinkled in a manner disturbing to male egotism. She had common-sense too, and what man wanted the plainly matter-of-fact, when he could enjoy instead Sophia's delicious folly?
Talking to you is like -- like talking to an eel!" "No, is it? I've never tried to talk to an eel. Isn't it as waste of time?" "Not such a waste of time as talking to you!
Is it not unsupportable to be held down to a canter when you long to gallop for miles?
When fate is got it in for you, there is no limit to what you may have to put up with.