A Grave Robbery (Veronica Speedwell, #9)

by Deanna Raybourn

Men require, in my experience, considerable bolstering of the spirits in order to carry out any activity requiring imagination or fortitude.

I was merely reflecting on how felicitous it is to be understood and loved for oneself—really loved, with no design to alter or diminish the object of one’s affection. It is a rare thing.”

I continued to stroke his hair long into the night, reflecting that dying with him would be a very pleasant way to go indeed.

But I do not want a small and stifled version of you. I want you—in all your intrepid and audacious glory. I want you just as you are, the entirety of your chaos and your wildness. You are the whirlwind I did not know I needed, but now that you are here, I will not be the one to ask you to be anything different than exactly as you are.