However Joan managed to recognize him, from the moment she approached Charles, she demonstrated the same piety, passion, and strength of purpose that had so impressed all who had met her previously. With a deep reverence that must have put the very timorous king immediately at his ease, she curtsied before him. “I was myself present at the castle and at the city of Chinon when the Maid arrived, and I saw her when she presented herself to his royal majesty,” said Raoul de Gaucourt, a member of Charles’s entourage. “She showed great humility and simplicity of manner, this poor little shepherdess…”
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”I’m a sensitive, creative type. I’m going through something.”
“If I come home to you eating a pint of Haagen-Dazs and watching When Harry Met Sally, I’m calling the police.”
“What are they going to do, arrest me for being a cliche?”
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”Who’d live in a house called SHIRLEY?” asked Philip, peering at the brass plate beside the front door.
Honestly, he could be so annoying sometimes. Our old house had sold faster than expected. We had to move out in four weeks. And here he was quibbling over a name plaque.
“Lots of houses had names in the old days,” I said. “If you’re going to call a house anything it might as well be Shirley.”
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”Okay, it seems Weinraub is taking advantage of the fact that you’re a lovely and highly intelligent female who happens to be particularly…fragile.”
“Fragile being code for a drunk.”
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I have thrown things in wishing / cast half in pleasure of the act / half in solemn belief—from “The Baby Slept”
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”But where are the women?”
I should have paid attention.
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The unopened letter perched on the side table like a single wing about to take flight. Katie Vaughn—who at thirty-five went by Kate—wanted to open the letter, but waited. For Kate, the first day of spring held more than blooming daffodils. It was still a day of firsts.
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