The Saucy Wenches Book Club

A firstfoot was to bring gifts to the house: an egg, a faggot of wood, a bit of salt — and a bit of whisky, thus insuring that the household would not lack for the necessities during the coming year. ~ Diana Gabaldon, The Fiery Cross

>>>Good morning, Max. >>>Hello, Riley. >>>What have you done since our last session? >>>Max has read 895,013 books. Wow. That’s in one week.... >>>Any favorites? >>> The Count of Monte Cristo . >>>Is that out of this latest group or every book you’ve read so far? >>>All. >>>And how many is that? >>>201,773,124. >>>Jesus. Should I be worried? >>>About? >>>Out of two hundred million books, your favorite so far is a revenge story about someone who was wrongfully imprisoned. ~ Blake Crouch, Summer Frost

“Beautiful means ‘full of beauty.’ Beautiful is not about how you look on the outside, beautiful is about what you’re made of. Beautiful people spend time discovering what their idea of beauty on this earth is. They know themselves well enough to know what they love, and they love themselves enough to fill up with a little of their particular kind of beauty each day.” ~ Glennon Doyle Melton, Love Warrior

“You must know monsters well, wolf girl.” “I’ve never met one in the wild. They don’t live there.” ~ Charlotte McConaghy, Once There Were Wolves

Making a proper Christmas for Brianna every year had been wonderful; I’d felt as though the festivity was for me, as well — the joy of doing things I’d read or heard about, but never done or seen. Frank, the only one of us who had truly experienced the traditional British Christmas, was the authority on menus, gift wrapping, carol singing, and other arcane lore. From the decorating of the tree until it came down after New Year’s, the house was full of excited secrets, with an underlying sense of peace. To have that in our new house, with everyone together... ~ Diana Gabaldon, Go Tell the Bees That I Am Gone

Not all worth knowing can be found between the covers of compendiums, my boy. Let’s simply say that my academy was the thoroughfare, my primer experience, and my instructor the fickle finger of fate. ~ Amor Towles, The Lincoln Highway

“Violence is the last refuge of the incompetent.” ~ Isaac Asimov, Foundation

“There’s a special phenomenology to walking in woods in winter.” ~ Helen Macdonald, Vesper Flights

“Jamie,” I said, a few moments later, raising my head. “What color is my hair?” This was an absurd question; it was the depth of the night and we were standing in a pitch-black forest. But he made a small noise of appraisal and lifted my chin to look. “All the colors o’ the earth,” he said, and smoothed the hair from my face. “But here, all about your face—it’s the color of moonlight, mo ghràidh.” ~ Diana Gabaldon, Go Tell the Bees That I Am Gone

But a life without art, without wonder, without beautiful things—she would go mad. She has gone mad. What she needs are stories. Stories are a way to preserve one’s self. To be remembered. And to forget. Stories come in so many forms: in charcoal, and in song, in paintings, poems, films. And books. ~ V.E. Schwab, The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue

“A man who overestimates his intelligence is a man who can be easily manipulated.” ~ Rachel Hawkins, The Wife Upstairs

“Autumn leaves don't fall, they fly. They take their time and wander on this their only chance to soar.” ~ Delia Owens, Where the Crawdads Sing

“It’s a shame about your book,” Ned said to Cecilia as they drove from the woods into the sumptuous golden glory of sunset over East Devon. “I don’t think stuffing its pages down the throat of that brigand chief was likely to make him more eloquent.” “One can only try,” Cecilia replied. “Besides, it was just Wordsworth.” “Ah, no great loss, then. Although I should give the man some credit, he did compose the beautiful line ‘I wandered lonely as a cloud.’” “Unless you believe the rumor that he actually wrote ‘lonely as a cow’ and his sister made him change it.” ~ India Holton, The Wisteria Society of Lady Scoundrels

“I arrived in Paris on the eve of war in order to put books into the hands of readers,” Helen said, “and I’m not about to stop now.” “I’ll carry the entire contents of the Library to subscribers,” said Peter. “We won’t let readers become isolated,” Miss Wedd insisted. “I’ll take them books. And scones, too, if I can scrape up enough flour.” “Delivering books will be our way of resisting.” ~ Janet Skeslien Charles, The Paris Library

“I think she’s nice,” I say. “Nice?” My mother looks as though she’s just swallowed an olive pit. “Why is that bad?” I ask. “Nice is the enemy of interesting.” ~ Miranda Cowley Heller, The Paper Palace

“Sometimes the things we think are lost are only hidden, waiting to be rediscovered.” ~ Anthony Doerr, Cloud Cuckoo Land

“I like it when ye scream, Sassenach,” he murmured a little later, pausing for breath. “There are children downstairs!” I hissed, fingers buried in his hair. “Well, try to sound like a catamount, then…” ~ Diana Gabaldon, Go Tell the Bees That I Am Gone

“The moment my lips touch yours, it will be your first kiss. Because if you’ve never felt anything when someone’s kissed you, then no one’s ever really kissed you. Not the way I plan on kissing you.” ~ Colleen Hoover, Hopeless

“I thought to myself that there are surely a lot of big things in America. The Empire State Building and the Statue of Liberty are big. The Mississippi River and the Grand Canyon are big. The skies over the prairie are big. But there is nothing bigger than a man’s opinion of himself.” ~ Amor Towles, The Lincoln Highway