Ah. That is the price of love, I'm afraid—the pain one suffers from its loss. I'm not convinced it's worth it. Perhaps if one must love, one should do so in moderation.""Moderation in love," she mused aloud. "It's not something that would inspire a poet, is it?""A poet's view of the world would make for an uncomfortable life, wouldn't it? Everyone at the mercy of his or her passions, all of us tearing our hair out for the sake of love...

I’ve discovered, Mr. Talbot, that a mere five minutes’ acquaintance with Mr. Devlin is sufficient to try the patience of a saint.” Jack replied softly, allowing his simmering amusement to show in his eyes. “Are you claiming to be a saint, Miss Briars?

I, for one. You’re welcome to your Sturm und Drang, darling—I’ll take someone who’s a bit easier to manage.”“What is Sturm und Drang?”“Ah…I see that I’ll have to introduce you to the finer points of German literature. It means passionate turmoil—literally translated, ‘storm and stress.’ ”“Yes, well, there is nothing quite as exciting as a storm, is there?” Aline asked ruefully.Adam grinned as he drew her to a nearby bench. “Only when one is viewing it from inside a nice, cozy house.

Sturm und Drang?”“Ah…I see that I’ll have to introduce you to the finer points of German literature. It means passionate turmoil—literally translated, ‘storm and stress.’