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
Do you know, I think that of all your idiosyncrasies that choke you give, when you are determined not to laugh, is the one that most enchants me.
God knows I'm no saint, but I don't think I'm more of a sinner than any other man.
Let me tell you, my girl, that I'm swallowing no more of your insults! And if I hear another word from you in disparagement of the Corinthian set it will be very much the worse for you!
You are an atrocious person! Since the day I met you I have become steadily more depraved.
O God, I love you to the edge of madness, Venetia, but I'm not mad yet--not so mad that I don't know how disastrous it might be to you--to us both! You don't realize what an advantage I should be taking of your innocence!
Do you recall Fred Merriville?” She stared at him. “Fred Merriville? Pray, what has he to say to anything?” “The poor fellow has nothing to say: he’s dead, alas!
Has no one ever told you that it is the height of impropriety to kiss any gentleman, unless you have the intention of accompanying him immediately to the altar?
Perhaps,” murmured his lordship, “I yielded to a compassionate impulse.” “A what?” gasped his best friend. “Oh, did you think I never did so?” said his lordship, the satirical glint in his eyes extremely pronounced. “You wrong me! I do, sometimes—not frequently, of course, but every now and then!
You have a genius for bringing trouble upon yourself
My dear girl, don't talk nonsense to me! You're lazy, that's all that's wrong with you. Why don't you take up social work?
Randall laid his hand on Stella's, but only to remove it from his sleeve. "My precious, you really must have some regard for my clothes," he said with gentle reproach. "Much as I love you, I cannot permit you to maul this particular coat.
My dear girl, you don't consent to an abduction! You consent to an elopement, and I knew you wouldn't do that.
I remember only what interests me.
And now I wish I hadn’t been civil, because he says he shall not despair! He is as stupid as Endymion!” “No, no!” said Alverstoke soothingly. “Nobody could be as stupid as Endymion!