{"author":"Susan Wiggs","author_id":"Susan+Wiggs","total_quotes":31,"quotes":[{"text":"It isn’t fair, but maybe that’s the whole point. Fairness has no part in real life, and she took that lesson away from the Hotel Angeline with her.","author":"Susan Wiggs","tags":["ebook","fairness","life","life-lessons","mystery"],"id":34599,"author_id":"Susan+Wiggs"},{"text":"The estate looked vast and prosperous- on the surface, at least. Bella Vista was stunningly lovely, the orchards well tended and clearly productive. If there was a place in the world that was closer to heaven, she wasn't aware of it. Bella Vista- Beautiful View. A panorama view of the orchards, herb and flower fields radiated outward from the patio. The scents of ripe apples, lavender and roses rode the breeze, mingling with the mind-melting aroma of Isabel's fresh-baked croissants.","author":"Susan Wiggs","tags":["bella vista","estate","fields","flowers","orchards","scents"],"id":42097,"author_id":"Susan+Wiggs"},{"text":"Insults sting but a little when they stem from a man's ignorance.","author":"Susan Wiggs","tags":["wisdom"],"id":70964,"author_id":"Susan+Wiggs"},{"text":"You have seven writers in your basement?”Donald nods, signing, “They like it here. There’s a poet, a couple of novelists, an opera librettist, an essay writer . . . . They don’t usually make much trouble.","author":"Susan Wiggs","tags":["ebook","fiction","hotel-angeline","susan-wiggs","writers","writing"],"id":77073,"author_id":"Susan+Wiggs"},{"text":"There can be no fooling ourselves into thinking this is something other than what it is—the willful ejection of Molly from our nest. It’s too late for second thoughts, anyway. She has to be moved into her dorm in time for freshman orientation. It’s been marked on the kitchen calendar for weeks—the expiration date on her childhood.","author":"Susan Wiggs","tags":["children","parenting"],"id":84439,"author_id":"Susan+Wiggs"},{"text":"She loved old things. The brown-brick place was a survivor of the 1907 earthquake and fire, and proudly bore a plaque from the historical society. The building had a haunted history- it was the site of a crime of passion- but Tess didn't mind. She'd never been superstitious.The apartment was filled with items she'd collected through the years, simply because she liked them or was intrigued by them. There was a balance between heirloom and kitsch. The common thread seemed to be that each object had a story, like a pottery jug with a bas-relief love story told in pictures, in which she'd found a note reading, 'Long may we run. -Gilbert.' Or the antique clock on the living room wall, each of its carved figures modeled after one of the clockmaker's twelve children. She favored the unusual, so long as it appeared to have been treasured by someone, once upon a time. Her mail spilled from an antique box containing a pigeon-racing counter with a brass plate engraved from a father to a son. She hung her huge handbag on a wrought iron finial from a town library that had burned and been rebuilt in a matter of weeks by an entire community.Other people's treasures captivated her. They always had, steeped in hidden history, bearing the nicks and gouges and fingerprints of previous owners. She'd probably developed the affinity from spending so much of her childhood in her grandmother's antique shop.","author":"Susan Wiggs","tags":["antiques","apartment","heirlooms","history","kitsch","tess-delaney","unusual"],"id":89147,"author_id":"Susan+Wiggs"},{"text":"Talent is required, but much of writing is a matter of craft, which develops with time, attention, patience and practice, like playing an instrument or learning to dance.","author":"Susan Wiggs","tags":["time","learning","dance "],"id":95695,"author_id":"Susan+Wiggs"},{"text":"She knew with painful certainty that the opposite of love was not hate, but indifference.","author":"Susan Wiggs","tags":["hate","indifference","love"],"id":107991,"author_id":"Susan+Wiggs"},{"text":"This time of year, the purple blooms were busy with life- not just the bees, but butterflies and ladybugs, skippers and emerald-toned beetles, flitting hummingbirds and sapphire dragonflies. The sun-warmed sweet haze of the blossoms filled the air.'When I was a kid,' said Isabel, 'I used to capture butterflies, but I was afraid of the bees. I'm getting over that, though.' The bees softly rose and hovered over the flowers, their steady hum oddly soothing. The quiet buzzing was the soundtrack of her girlhood summers. Even now, she could close her eyes and remember her walks with Bubbie, and how they would net a monarch or swallowtail butterfly, studying the creature in a big clear jar before setting it free again. They always set them free.As she watched the activity in the hedge, a memory floated up from the past- Bubbie, gently explaining to Isabel why they needed to open the jar. 'No creature should ever be trapped against its will,' she used to say. 'It will ruin itself, just trying to escape.' As a survivor of a concentration camp, Bubbie only ever spoke of the experience in the most oblique of terms.","author":"Susan Wiggs","tags":["bees","bubbie","butterflies","eva johansen","flowers","insects","isabel-johansen","magnus-johansen","memory","nature-s-beauty","summertime"],"id":155993,"author_id":"Susan+Wiggs"},{"text":"I see the way he looks at you when you're not aware of his gaze. I see the way you care for him. And so when you think he wants you gone, it is not that. He is simply afraid to lose you.","author":"Susan Wiggs","tags":["afraid","falling-in-love","heartfelt","love","romance","romantic"],"id":157229,"author_id":"Susan+Wiggs"}],"pagination":{"page":1,"page_size":10,"total":31,"pages":4,"next":"?page=2\u0026page_size=10"}}