The Unselected Journals of Emma M. Lion: Vol. 7

by Beth Brower

I followed, casting about for any aspects of my life that would prove dire were Aunt Eugenia to encounter them. I realised there wasn’t anything that did not fit that description.

“Which implies you have been thinking of me.” I opened my mouth, cheeks pink. “I admit to only a reasonable amount of thought.” “I admit to more than that.”

I ADMIT TO MORE THAN THAT 🫠🫠🫠

Arabella smiled demurely. “Yes, Emma, do tell?”

I dont really like Arabella tbh

Who would have guessed—in a thousand variations of a thousand years—that Pierce would so evenly manage Aunt Eugenia? I suppose, on further reflection, anyone who has ever met him.

YOU LOOKED CHARMING THE OTHER NIGHT, BUT NOT AS CHARMING

I die

Father complained to Mother all the way home that the clergy were doing their level best to poke holes in the poetry of God.

This Season I’ll take care not to mind an inch of my own business.

there is never time for what one plans to do, only what one does.

I’m happy you’re still wearing your appalling glasses. They’re the only thing saving anyone from your overwhelming, masculine charm.”

An easy life will never bring the kind of satisfaction the soul craves.

If they roll over in their graves, they can thank us for the exercise.”

I realised Hawkes was still standing at the pulpit before the congregation, watching Islington and me with—what I defend to be—an affectionate impatience.

your honor i love them