The Unselected Journals of Emma M. Lion: Vol. 3

by Beth Brower

I would accept, and ask Agnes to be my second. Mr. Pierce and I would duel in the street. I would die.

I had forgotten what it is like to live with an artist. The unexpected pauses over what might be considered mundane to most.

(Morning robe or mourning robe? How is one to know?)

bahahahahahahahaha

Think of your worst qualities and be prepared to discuss what we might do with them.

a noble practice indeed

Here’s to the small victories.

“By the grace of God goes Islington,”

Arabella surprised me again by looking thoughtful. “I am not convinced a quiet day is what you need.” “What on earth do you suggest? Shall we storm Parliament instead?”

“I make a go of it, when I can. It’s not my disposition to…what I mean to say is, I learned a long time ago that my happiness has to be separate from the things beyond my control.”

I enjoy a man who can unironically speak of fearing women.

My next tattoo

Admittedly, he gained a point in my esteem for the way he pressed his fork against the crumbs left on his plate, controlled yet absent at the same time.

Pierce put away his camera, returned, sat back down, and we both began reading through the rest of his newspaper, talking lightly of nothing as the afternoon walked by.