“There’s so much gray to every story—nothing is so black and white.”
―
Lisa Ling
“Right and wrongBlack and whiteAnd many shadesOf grayI want color in my lifeColor in my dreams.” ― Lisa Schroeder, Chasing Brooklyn
“Not everything’s black and white in this world, Jess. Sometimes good people make mistakes. Sometimes innocent folk are locked up for things they didn’t do. And sometimes, the really bad ones never have to pay for what they’ve done.” ― Lisa Gray, Thin Air
“camera’s lens were Eleanor Lavelle and Rob Young. The photo itself told her they were Eleanor Lavelle and Tony Shaw.” ― Lisa Gray, Thin Air
“He wasn’t just the boss—he was the fun police.” ― Lisa Gray, Thin Air
“His breath fell in a warm, even rhythm on the curve of her cheek. “Some people think of the bee as a sacred insect,” he said. “It’s a symbol of reincarnation.” “I don’t believe in reincarnation,” she muttered. There was a smile in his voice. “What a surprise. At the very least, the bees’ presence in your home is a sign of good things to come.” Her voice was buried in the fine wool of his coat. “Wh-what does it mean if there are thousands of bees in one’s home?” He shifted her higher in his arms, his lips curving gently against the cold rim of her ear. “Probably that we’ll have plenty of honey for teatime. We’re going through the doorway now. In a moment I’m going to set you on your feet.” Amelia kept her face against him, her fingertips digging into the layers of his clothes. “Are they following?” “No. They want to stay near the hive. Their main concern is to protect the queen from predators.” “She has nothing to fear from me!” Laughter rustled in his throat. With extreme care, he lowered Amelia’s feet to the floor. Keeping one arm around her, he reached with the other to close the door. “There. We’re out of the room. You’re safe.” His hand passed over her hair. “You can open your eyes now.” Clutching the lapels of his coat, Amelia stood and waited for a feeling of relief that didn’t come. Her heart was racing too hard, too fast. Her chest ached from the strain of her breathing. Her lashes lifted, but all she could see was a shower of sparks. “Amelia … easy. You’re all right.” His hands chased the shivers that ran up and down her back. “Slow down, sweetheart.” She couldn’t. Her lungs were about to burst. No matter how hard she worked, she couldn’t get enough air. Bees … the sound of buzzing was still in her ears. She heard his voice as if from a great distance, and she felt his arms go around her again as she sank into layers of gray softness. After what could have been a minute or an hour, pleasant sensations filtered through the haze. A tender pressure moved over her forehead. The gentle brushes touched her eyelids, slid to her cheeks. Strong arms held her against a comfortingly hard surface, while a clean, salt-edged scent filled her nostrils. Her lashes fluttered, and she turned into the warmth with confused pleasure. “There you are,” came a low murmur. Opening her eyes, Amelia saw Cam Rohan’s face above her. They were on the hallway floor—he was holding her in his lap. As if the situation weren’t mortifying enough, the front of her bodice was gaping, and her corset was unhooked. Only her crumpled chemise was left to cover her chest. Amelia stiffened. Until that moment she had never known there was a feeling beyond embarrassment, that made one wish one could crumble into a pile of ashes. “My … my dress…” “You weren’t breathing well. I thought it best to loosen your corset.” “I’ve never fainted before,” she said groggily, struggling to sit up. “You were frightened.” His hand came to the center of her chest, gently pressing her back down. “Rest another minute.” His gaze moved over her wan features. “I think we can conclude you’re not fond of bees.” ― Lisa Kleypas, Mine Till Midnight
“All I know is he's letting me see it, and him, and he is exactly what he preaches. Raw and honest, and intense and I believe in this moment that we are a rainbow of the same colors, none of them bright or beautiful. We are the many shades of gray and black, hoping to find a glimmer of light in each other, not more darkness. ” ― Lisa Renee Jones, Escaping Reality
“Just because someone out there has it worse doesn’t make your pain any less significant. It happened to you, not them. It’s your pain that you suffer with. You’re a brave, strong, woman, and I don’t think you should blow off your pain just because someone else has it bad.” ― Lisa Helen Gray, Myles
“Oh, by the way, the other day Gram’s had the sex talk with me. She was checking to make sure we were using protection. It got really awkward, especially when she told Malik he could take some of Marks condom” ― Lisa Helen Gray, Mason
“Risking a glance at the dignified young man beside her- what was his name?- Mr. Arthurson, Arterton?- Pandora decided to try her hand at some small talk."It was very fine weather today, wasn't it?" she said.He set down his flatware and dabbed at both corners of his mouth with his napkin before replying. "Yes, quite fine."Encouraged, Pandora asked, "What kind of clouds do you like better- cumulus or stratocumulus?"He regarded her with a slight frown. After a long pause, he asked, "What is the difference?""Well, cumulus are the fluffier, rounder clouds, like this heap of potatoes on my plate." Using her fork, Pandora spread, swirled, and dabbed the potatoes. "Stratocumulus are flatter and can form lines or waves- like this- and can either form a large mass or break into smaller pieces."He was expressionless as he watched her. "I prefer flat clouds that look like a blanket.""Altostratus?" Pandora asked in surprise, setting down her fork. "But those are the boring clouds. Why do you like them?""They usually mean it's going to rain. I like rain."This showed promise of actually turning into a conversation. "I like to walk in the rain, too," Pandora exclaimed."No, I don't like to walk in it. I like to stay in the house." After casting a disapproving glance at her plate, the man returned his attention to eating.Chastened, Pandora let out a noiseless sigh. Picking up her fork, she tried to inconspicuously push her potatoes into a proper heap again. Fact #64 Never sculpt your food to illustrate a point during small talk. Men don't like it.As Pandora looked up, she discovered Phoebe's gaze on her. She braced inwardly for a sarcastic remark.But Phoebe's voice was gentle as she spoke. "Henry and I once saw a cloud over the English Channel that was shaped in a perfect cylinder. It went on as far as the eye could see. Like someone had rolled up a great white carpet and set it in the sky."It was the first time Pandora had ever heard Phoebe mention her late husband's name. Tentatively, she asked, "Did you and he ever try to find shapes in the clouds?""Oh, all the time. Henry was very clever- he could find dolphins, ships, elephants, and roosters. I could never see a shape until he pointed it out. But then it would appear as if by magic." Phoebe's gray eyes turned crystalline with infinite variations of tenderness and wistfulness. Although Pandora had experienced grief before, having lost both parents and a brother, she understood that this was a different kind of loss, a heavier weight of pain. Filled with compassion and sympathy, she dared to say, "He... he sounds like a lovely man."Phoebe smiled faintly, their gazes meeting in a moment of warm connection. "He was," she said. "Someday I'll tell you about him."And finally Pandora understood where a little small talk about the weather might lead.” ― Lisa Kleypas, Devil in Spring
“West couldn't stop staring at Lady Clare. He had the feeling if he reached out to touch her, he would come away with his fingers scorched. That hair, blazing from beneath a simple gray traveling bonnet... he'd never seen anything like it. Bird-of-paradise red, with glimmers of crimson dancing amid the pinned-up locks. Her skin was flawless ivory except for a tender spray of freckles sprinkled across her nose, like a finishing spice on some luxurious dessert.She had the look of someone who had been nurtured: educated and well dressed. Someone who had always been lovingly sheltered. But there was a shadow in her gaze... the knowledge that there were some things no human being could be protected from.God, those eyes... light gray, with striations like the rays of tiny stars.” ― Lisa Kleypas, Devil's Daughter
“I fell in love with you, and I knew I could never have you. I couldn't pretend to be Pru any longer. I loved you so much, and I couldn't-"Her words were abruptly smothered. He was kissing her, she realized dazedly. What did it mean? What did he want? What... but her thoughts dissolved, and she stopped trying to make sense of anything.His arms had closed around her, one hand gripping the back of her neck. Shaken to her soul, she molded against him. Taking her sobs into his mouth, he licked deep, his kiss strong and savage. It had to be a dream, and yet her senses insisted it was real, the scent and warmth and toughness of him engulfing her. He pulled her even more tightly against him, making it difficult to breathe. She didn't care. The pleasure of the kiss suffused her, drugged her, and when he pulled his head back, she protested with a bewildered moan.Christopher forced her to look back at him. "Loved?" he asked hoarsely. "Past tense?""Present tense," she managed to say."You told me to find you.""I didn't mean to send you that note.""But you did. You wanted me.""Yes." More tears escaped her stinging eyes. He bent and pressed his mouth to them, tasting the salt of grief.Those gray eyes looked into hers, no longer bright as hellfrost, but soft as smoke. "I love you, Beatrix."Maybe she was capable of swooning after all.It certainly felt like a swoon, her knees giving way, her head lolling against his shoulder as he lowered them both to the threadbare carpet. Fitting his arm beneath her neck, Christopher covered her mouth with his again. Beatrix answered helplessly, unable to withhold anything. Their legs tangled, and he let his thigh nuzzle between hers.” ― Lisa Kleypas, Love in the Afternoon
“Evie…” His shaking hand fumbled for hers, feebly trapping her fingers on his bare chest. Under their joined hands, the wedding band on the chain pressed against his unsteady heartbeat. “Go with Westcliff,” he murmured, his eyes closing. “After.” After what? Evie stared into his face, his gray complexion, and realized that he was referring to his own death. As she felt his hand slide away from hers, she gripped it firmly. His hand had changed…no longer smooth and manicured, but harder, callused, the nails cut ruthlessly short. “No,” she said with soft intensity, “there will be no ‘after.’ I will stay with you every moment. I will keep you with me. I won’t let you go.” Suddenly her breath was coming hard, and she felt the pressure of panic against the inner wall of her chest. Continuing to lean over him, she turned her hand so that their palms matched, their pulses pressed together…one weak, one strong. “If my love can hold you, I’ll keep you with me.” ― Lisa Kleypas, Devil in Winter
“Jack enjoyed watching Amanda's face in the candlelight, her expression by turns thoughtful, amused, and lively, those gray eyes gleaming more brightly than the polished silver.Unlike the other women present, who picked at their food with appropriately feminine disinterest, Amanda displayed a healthy appetite. Apparently it was one of the privileges of spinsterhood, that a woman could eat well in public. She was so natural and straightforward, a refreshing change from the other sophisticated women he had known.” ― Lisa Kleypas, Suddenly You
“She’d believed in forever in her twenties, when Gray had said it, meaning every word, and she’d believed in forever in her thirties, when William had said it, lying through his teeth. But she’d lived long enough to know that forever couldn’t be guaranteed to anyone. Even tomorrow couldn’t be relied upon.” ― Lisa Scottoline, Come Home
“You're not behaving the way I expected. I've done all the crying and screaming, and you've been so quiet.""I'm sure I'll cry eventually. Right now, though, I only feel rather ill and gray.""Should I be quiet too?" Pandora had asked.Cassandra had shaken her head. "No, not at all. It feels as if you're crying and screaming for me when I can't."Pandora had pressed her cheek against Cassandra's arm. "That's what sisters do.” ― Lisa Kleypas, Chasing Cassandra
“What kind of person did you say he was, this second cousin of yours?” Gray wanted to know. "He is the only son of my uncle’s second wife, who disinherited the children of his first wife and passed the entire fortune onto Martin," said Geoffrey." I’m not quite certain what that makes him.” The faintest trace of a smile came to Gray’s lips. “A sitting duck?” he ventured.” ― Lisa Lieberman, All the Wrong Places
“Could you please refrain from touching your junk in the hallway, Mr. Carter,’’ a teacher snaps. “Oh, Miss. French, you love my junk,’’ he winks.” ― Lisa Helen Gray, Myles
“Would we get on well together, do you think?” she asked dubiously, daring to play with the knot of his necktie, loosening the gray watered-silk fabric with her fingertips. “We’re opposites in nearly every regard.” Inclining his head, Marcus nuzzled the tender inside of her wrist, his lips brushing the blue-tinted veins that lay like fine lacework beneath the skin. “I am coming to believe that taking a wife who is exactly like myself would be the worst conceivable decision I could make.” “Perhaps you’re right,” Lillian mused, letting her fingertips curl into the gleaming close-cut hair at the side of his head. “You need a wife who won’t let you have your way all the time. One who…” She paused with a little shiver as his tongue touched a delicate spot near her inner elbow. “Who,” she continued, struggling to gather her thoughts, “would be willing to take you down a notch when you become too pompous…” “I am never pompous,” Marcus said, drawing the edge of her gown away from the vulnerable curve of her throat. Her breath hitched as he began to kiss the wing of her collarbone. “What would you call it when you carry on as if you always know best, and anyone who disagrees with you is an idiot?” “Most of the time, the people who disagree with me do happen to be idiots. I can’t help that.” ― Lisa Kleypas, It Happened One Autumn
“Right and wrongBlack and whiteAnd many shadesOf grayI want color in my lifeColor in my dreams.” ― Lisa Schroeder, Chasing Brooklyn
“Not everything’s black and white in this world, Jess. Sometimes good people make mistakes. Sometimes innocent folk are locked up for things they didn’t do. And sometimes, the really bad ones never have to pay for what they’ve done.” ― Lisa Gray, Thin Air
“camera’s lens were Eleanor Lavelle and Rob Young. The photo itself told her they were Eleanor Lavelle and Tony Shaw.” ― Lisa Gray, Thin Air
“He wasn’t just the boss—he was the fun police.” ― Lisa Gray, Thin Air
“His breath fell in a warm, even rhythm on the curve of her cheek. “Some people think of the bee as a sacred insect,” he said. “It’s a symbol of reincarnation.” “I don’t believe in reincarnation,” she muttered. There was a smile in his voice. “What a surprise. At the very least, the bees’ presence in your home is a sign of good things to come.” Her voice was buried in the fine wool of his coat. “Wh-what does it mean if there are thousands of bees in one’s home?” He shifted her higher in his arms, his lips curving gently against the cold rim of her ear. “Probably that we’ll have plenty of honey for teatime. We’re going through the doorway now. In a moment I’m going to set you on your feet.” Amelia kept her face against him, her fingertips digging into the layers of his clothes. “Are they following?” “No. They want to stay near the hive. Their main concern is to protect the queen from predators.” “She has nothing to fear from me!” Laughter rustled in his throat. With extreme care, he lowered Amelia’s feet to the floor. Keeping one arm around her, he reached with the other to close the door. “There. We’re out of the room. You’re safe.” His hand passed over her hair. “You can open your eyes now.” Clutching the lapels of his coat, Amelia stood and waited for a feeling of relief that didn’t come. Her heart was racing too hard, too fast. Her chest ached from the strain of her breathing. Her lashes lifted, but all she could see was a shower of sparks. “Amelia … easy. You’re all right.” His hands chased the shivers that ran up and down her back. “Slow down, sweetheart.” She couldn’t. Her lungs were about to burst. No matter how hard she worked, she couldn’t get enough air. Bees … the sound of buzzing was still in her ears. She heard his voice as if from a great distance, and she felt his arms go around her again as she sank into layers of gray softness. After what could have been a minute or an hour, pleasant sensations filtered through the haze. A tender pressure moved over her forehead. The gentle brushes touched her eyelids, slid to her cheeks. Strong arms held her against a comfortingly hard surface, while a clean, salt-edged scent filled her nostrils. Her lashes fluttered, and she turned into the warmth with confused pleasure. “There you are,” came a low murmur. Opening her eyes, Amelia saw Cam Rohan’s face above her. They were on the hallway floor—he was holding her in his lap. As if the situation weren’t mortifying enough, the front of her bodice was gaping, and her corset was unhooked. Only her crumpled chemise was left to cover her chest. Amelia stiffened. Until that moment she had never known there was a feeling beyond embarrassment, that made one wish one could crumble into a pile of ashes. “My … my dress…” “You weren’t breathing well. I thought it best to loosen your corset.” “I’ve never fainted before,” she said groggily, struggling to sit up. “You were frightened.” His hand came to the center of her chest, gently pressing her back down. “Rest another minute.” His gaze moved over her wan features. “I think we can conclude you’re not fond of bees.” ― Lisa Kleypas, Mine Till Midnight
“All I know is he's letting me see it, and him, and he is exactly what he preaches. Raw and honest, and intense and I believe in this moment that we are a rainbow of the same colors, none of them bright or beautiful. We are the many shades of gray and black, hoping to find a glimmer of light in each other, not more darkness. ” ― Lisa Renee Jones, Escaping Reality
“Just because someone out there has it worse doesn’t make your pain any less significant. It happened to you, not them. It’s your pain that you suffer with. You’re a brave, strong, woman, and I don’t think you should blow off your pain just because someone else has it bad.” ― Lisa Helen Gray, Myles
“Oh, by the way, the other day Gram’s had the sex talk with me. She was checking to make sure we were using protection. It got really awkward, especially when she told Malik he could take some of Marks condom” ― Lisa Helen Gray, Mason
“Risking a glance at the dignified young man beside her- what was his name?- Mr. Arthurson, Arterton?- Pandora decided to try her hand at some small talk."It was very fine weather today, wasn't it?" she said.He set down his flatware and dabbed at both corners of his mouth with his napkin before replying. "Yes, quite fine."Encouraged, Pandora asked, "What kind of clouds do you like better- cumulus or stratocumulus?"He regarded her with a slight frown. After a long pause, he asked, "What is the difference?""Well, cumulus are the fluffier, rounder clouds, like this heap of potatoes on my plate." Using her fork, Pandora spread, swirled, and dabbed the potatoes. "Stratocumulus are flatter and can form lines or waves- like this- and can either form a large mass or break into smaller pieces."He was expressionless as he watched her. "I prefer flat clouds that look like a blanket.""Altostratus?" Pandora asked in surprise, setting down her fork. "But those are the boring clouds. Why do you like them?""They usually mean it's going to rain. I like rain."This showed promise of actually turning into a conversation. "I like to walk in the rain, too," Pandora exclaimed."No, I don't like to walk in it. I like to stay in the house." After casting a disapproving glance at her plate, the man returned his attention to eating.Chastened, Pandora let out a noiseless sigh. Picking up her fork, she tried to inconspicuously push her potatoes into a proper heap again. Fact #64 Never sculpt your food to illustrate a point during small talk. Men don't like it.As Pandora looked up, she discovered Phoebe's gaze on her. She braced inwardly for a sarcastic remark.But Phoebe's voice was gentle as she spoke. "Henry and I once saw a cloud over the English Channel that was shaped in a perfect cylinder. It went on as far as the eye could see. Like someone had rolled up a great white carpet and set it in the sky."It was the first time Pandora had ever heard Phoebe mention her late husband's name. Tentatively, she asked, "Did you and he ever try to find shapes in the clouds?""Oh, all the time. Henry was very clever- he could find dolphins, ships, elephants, and roosters. I could never see a shape until he pointed it out. But then it would appear as if by magic." Phoebe's gray eyes turned crystalline with infinite variations of tenderness and wistfulness. Although Pandora had experienced grief before, having lost both parents and a brother, she understood that this was a different kind of loss, a heavier weight of pain. Filled with compassion and sympathy, she dared to say, "He... he sounds like a lovely man."Phoebe smiled faintly, their gazes meeting in a moment of warm connection. "He was," she said. "Someday I'll tell you about him."And finally Pandora understood where a little small talk about the weather might lead.” ― Lisa Kleypas, Devil in Spring
“West couldn't stop staring at Lady Clare. He had the feeling if he reached out to touch her, he would come away with his fingers scorched. That hair, blazing from beneath a simple gray traveling bonnet... he'd never seen anything like it. Bird-of-paradise red, with glimmers of crimson dancing amid the pinned-up locks. Her skin was flawless ivory except for a tender spray of freckles sprinkled across her nose, like a finishing spice on some luxurious dessert.She had the look of someone who had been nurtured: educated and well dressed. Someone who had always been lovingly sheltered. But there was a shadow in her gaze... the knowledge that there were some things no human being could be protected from.God, those eyes... light gray, with striations like the rays of tiny stars.” ― Lisa Kleypas, Devil's Daughter
“I fell in love with you, and I knew I could never have you. I couldn't pretend to be Pru any longer. I loved you so much, and I couldn't-"Her words were abruptly smothered. He was kissing her, she realized dazedly. What did it mean? What did he want? What... but her thoughts dissolved, and she stopped trying to make sense of anything.His arms had closed around her, one hand gripping the back of her neck. Shaken to her soul, she molded against him. Taking her sobs into his mouth, he licked deep, his kiss strong and savage. It had to be a dream, and yet her senses insisted it was real, the scent and warmth and toughness of him engulfing her. He pulled her even more tightly against him, making it difficult to breathe. She didn't care. The pleasure of the kiss suffused her, drugged her, and when he pulled his head back, she protested with a bewildered moan.Christopher forced her to look back at him. "Loved?" he asked hoarsely. "Past tense?""Present tense," she managed to say."You told me to find you.""I didn't mean to send you that note.""But you did. You wanted me.""Yes." More tears escaped her stinging eyes. He bent and pressed his mouth to them, tasting the salt of grief.Those gray eyes looked into hers, no longer bright as hellfrost, but soft as smoke. "I love you, Beatrix."Maybe she was capable of swooning after all.It certainly felt like a swoon, her knees giving way, her head lolling against his shoulder as he lowered them both to the threadbare carpet. Fitting his arm beneath her neck, Christopher covered her mouth with his again. Beatrix answered helplessly, unable to withhold anything. Their legs tangled, and he let his thigh nuzzle between hers.” ― Lisa Kleypas, Love in the Afternoon
“Evie…” His shaking hand fumbled for hers, feebly trapping her fingers on his bare chest. Under their joined hands, the wedding band on the chain pressed against his unsteady heartbeat. “Go with Westcliff,” he murmured, his eyes closing. “After.” After what? Evie stared into his face, his gray complexion, and realized that he was referring to his own death. As she felt his hand slide away from hers, she gripped it firmly. His hand had changed…no longer smooth and manicured, but harder, callused, the nails cut ruthlessly short. “No,” she said with soft intensity, “there will be no ‘after.’ I will stay with you every moment. I will keep you with me. I won’t let you go.” Suddenly her breath was coming hard, and she felt the pressure of panic against the inner wall of her chest. Continuing to lean over him, she turned her hand so that their palms matched, their pulses pressed together…one weak, one strong. “If my love can hold you, I’ll keep you with me.” ― Lisa Kleypas, Devil in Winter
“Jack enjoyed watching Amanda's face in the candlelight, her expression by turns thoughtful, amused, and lively, those gray eyes gleaming more brightly than the polished silver.Unlike the other women present, who picked at their food with appropriately feminine disinterest, Amanda displayed a healthy appetite. Apparently it was one of the privileges of spinsterhood, that a woman could eat well in public. She was so natural and straightforward, a refreshing change from the other sophisticated women he had known.” ― Lisa Kleypas, Suddenly You
“She’d believed in forever in her twenties, when Gray had said it, meaning every word, and she’d believed in forever in her thirties, when William had said it, lying through his teeth. But she’d lived long enough to know that forever couldn’t be guaranteed to anyone. Even tomorrow couldn’t be relied upon.” ― Lisa Scottoline, Come Home
“You're not behaving the way I expected. I've done all the crying and screaming, and you've been so quiet.""I'm sure I'll cry eventually. Right now, though, I only feel rather ill and gray.""Should I be quiet too?" Pandora had asked.Cassandra had shaken her head. "No, not at all. It feels as if you're crying and screaming for me when I can't."Pandora had pressed her cheek against Cassandra's arm. "That's what sisters do.” ― Lisa Kleypas, Chasing Cassandra
“What kind of person did you say he was, this second cousin of yours?” Gray wanted to know. "He is the only son of my uncle’s second wife, who disinherited the children of his first wife and passed the entire fortune onto Martin," said Geoffrey." I’m not quite certain what that makes him.” The faintest trace of a smile came to Gray’s lips. “A sitting duck?” he ventured.” ― Lisa Lieberman, All the Wrong Places
“Could you please refrain from touching your junk in the hallway, Mr. Carter,’’ a teacher snaps. “Oh, Miss. French, you love my junk,’’ he winks.” ― Lisa Helen Gray, Myles
“Would we get on well together, do you think?” she asked dubiously, daring to play with the knot of his necktie, loosening the gray watered-silk fabric with her fingertips. “We’re opposites in nearly every regard.” Inclining his head, Marcus nuzzled the tender inside of her wrist, his lips brushing the blue-tinted veins that lay like fine lacework beneath the skin. “I am coming to believe that taking a wife who is exactly like myself would be the worst conceivable decision I could make.” “Perhaps you’re right,” Lillian mused, letting her fingertips curl into the gleaming close-cut hair at the side of his head. “You need a wife who won’t let you have your way all the time. One who…” She paused with a little shiver as his tongue touched a delicate spot near her inner elbow. “Who,” she continued, struggling to gather her thoughts, “would be willing to take you down a notch when you become too pompous…” “I am never pompous,” Marcus said, drawing the edge of her gown away from the vulnerable curve of her throat. Her breath hitched as he began to kiss the wing of her collarbone. “What would you call it when you carry on as if you always know best, and anyone who disagrees with you is an idiot?” “Most of the time, the people who disagree with me do happen to be idiots. I can’t help that.” ― Lisa Kleypas, It Happened One Autumn
