The Unselected Journals of Emma M. Lion: Vol. 4

by Beth Brower

Nothing shatters the illusion that one is free of a relation so much as the enquiry as to what one intends to do with one’s own time.

“That won’t do,” my aunt insisted. “What does your Agnes say?” My real Agnes says many a silly thing. My fake Agnes—the nonexistent chaperone—says very little. “She thinks it wise I do not neglect my Bible, particularly the saga of the Israelites in bondage to the Egyptians, as I’ve a good deal to learn regarding humility.”

I never want to hear you speak it again. And as for your misled determination at being lighthearted, I forbid it. A person of middling status cannot afford to feel happy about everything all of the time. That is an expensive state of mind.” “What shall I be instead?” “Light-minded would suffice. An appearance of pleasing stupidity prepares a woman for marriage.

“Strange is that unexpected moment that stays with you, that makes you think about it again. Strange is memorable, and compelling.”

“When one knows their ignorance is less than flattering, better not to put it on altogether.”

“You’re not half so bad once you get dolled up a bit, love.” Clearly the epitaph on my future gravestone. Emma M. Lion RIP Not Half So Bad Once Dolled Up

“You are wise in this thing. However, if the right man should come along, and money looks more like love than one would initially suppose, don’t turn your back on a chance for happiness merely because he has the means to save you.” It was the most fiscally romantic thing I had ever heard.

Is it immoral to marry a man solely to gain a library?

Islington: “Are you religious, Pierce?” Pierce: “I never touch the stuff.”

Alas, we cannot always live up to our ideals. However black humoured they are.

Bless a man who knows how to keep his own counsel when you can’t bear to speak.

They might not be of the Old Testament variety—Pierce, Islington, and Hawkes—but whatever strange confluence of events led to them holding me up was the gentlest hand of fate I’ve ever encountered. It might even be Divine.

Well, let us hold the pass. No traitors among us. WE WILL FIGHT IN THE SHADE.