37 Quotes About Strong-heroine

My sweet lemming,” he murmured, nuzzling her neck and sending glorious spirals of pleasure ping-ponging throughout her body. “You’ve been quiet and that worries me.” “Why?” she asked, trailing her hand down his banded forearm to entwine her fingers within his.“Because that means you’re thinking, and a thinking woman is usually something to fear.

And Mother, I love her dearly, but she flies into a panic whenever I mention women’s rights. As she sees it, it will be so much more difficult to marry me off if I am not only of a weak constitution but of a progressive mind as well.

It seemed to me that Mr. Forrester would approve of a woman who could follow him in conversation and not be baffled by ledgers and currency conversions. I had grossly overestimated him.

Another tug and a yank at my chestnut curls and she snarls at me, “You are so much like her.”This is something my mother often says and never explains. Though it is a great mystery to me it is also a blessing, for she always hurries from the room after saying it.

I missed her smile…the way she would roll her eyes when she thought I was being ridiculous…the quiet way she almost tiptoed when she walked that gave her away as a ballerina…the fact that she could probably give me a fairly decent ass-kicking if she set her mind to it. I missed it all.I missed her.

I'm proud of my carefree behaviour [...] I am boisterous, when I choose to be, and simply because I don't behave like a wan and fainting female who has not a thought in her head except try to attract an eligible suitor [...] I shall not conform to how you or anyone else tells me I should behave. I am answerable only to God.

I'd never known that I could feel this broken and whole at once.

I’ve succumbed to the absolute power of the man that pulls, culls, calls my unwitting submission. And I’ve embraced the power of my submission to draw him in further, to have him kneeling and worshiping what he’s conquered. I’ve known surrender and strength with him. True freedom. And a hell of a lot of orgasms.

My painful memories sift through me like sand through stretched fingers. Only small pieces cling and stay around for me to keep, the rest just disappear. I know not where and I don’t