44
" What - what - what are you doing?" he demanded." I am almost six hundred years old," Magnus claimed, and Ragnor snorted, since Magnus changed his age to suit himself every few weeks. Magnus swept on. " It does seem about time to learn a musical instrument." He flourished his new prize, a little stringed instrument that looked like a cousin of the lute that the lute was embarrassed to be related to. " It's called a charango. I am planning to become a charanguista!" " I wouldn't call that an instrument of music," Ragnor observed sourly. " An instrument of torture, perhaps." Magnus cradled the charango in his arms as if it were an easily offended baby. " It's a beautiful and very unique instrument! The sound box is made from an armadillo. Well, a dried armadillo shell." " That explains the sound you're making," said Ragnor. " Like a lost, hungry armadillo." " You are just jealous," Magnus remarked calmly. " Because you do not have the soul of a true artiste like myself." " Oh, I am positively green with envy," Ragnor snapped." Come now, Ragnor. That's not fair," said Magnus. " You know I love it when you make jokes about your complexion." Magnus refused to be affected by Ragnor's cruel judgments. He regarded his fellow warlock with a lofty stare of superb indifference, raised his charango, and began to play again his defiant, beautiful tune.They both heard the staccato thump of frantically running feet from within the house, the swish of skirts, and then Catarina came rushing out into the courtyard. Her white hair was falling loose about her shoulders, and her face was the picture of alarm." Magnus, Ragnor, I heard a cat making a most unearthly noise," she exclaimed. " From the sound of it, the poor creature must be direly sick. You have to help me find it!" Ragnor immediately collapsed with hysterical laughter on his windowsill. Magnus stared at Catarina for a moment, until he saw her lips twitch." You are conspiring against me and my art," he declared. " You are a pack of conspirators." He began to play again. Catarina stopped him by putting a hand on his arm." No, but seriously, Magnus," she said. " That noise is appalling." Magnus sighed. " Every warlock's a critic." " Why are you doing this?" " I have already explained myself to Ragnor. I wish to become proficient with a musical instrument. I have decided to devote myself to the art of the charanguista, and I wish to hear no more petty objections." " If we are all making lists of things we wish to hear no more . . . ," Ragnor murmured.Catarina, however, was smiling." I see," she said." Madam, you do not see." " I do. I see it all most clearly," Catarina assured him. " What is her name?" " I resent your implication," Magnus said. " There is no woman in the case. I am married to my music!" " Oh, all right," Catarina said. " What's his name, then?" His name was Imasu Morales, and he was gorgeous. "
46
" Colin. Just the name made Alessandro’s gut burn. He knew the man wanted his wife, even if Brianna was too blind to see it. The moron had been cuckolded by the paragon of supposed virtue, his wife Carrie and now he had finally opened his eyes and seen what Alessandro had known all along. Brianna put every other woman in New York to shame. No woman could come near her beauty, her passion, her fire. Colin had tossed her aside for the angelic Carrie and now he was changing his mind. Oh no you don’t, you miserable fucker. “Her friend indeed,” Bernardo drawled, his Italian accent thick with unmistakable implication. “Dat’s da truth. He no make her cry all da time.” That was directed at Alessandro, with small dark accusatory eyes. “He nice.” Alessandro couldn’t look at those eyes without feeling a sickening pang of guilt. She’s mine! He wanted to scream. Mine! Mine! Mine! “Oh yes. Very nice. He was very nice when he held her at the cemetery and very nice when he was dancing with her at Adresca.” That made Alessandro’s head lift in surprise. “Oh yes, my boy. She’s been there, cleaning up the rubble and word is that she’s working on re-opening it. Her friend Colin has been quite helpful in that endeavour.” “I don’ like how you say dat,” Will said scowling. “Really young William, I only speak the truth,” Bernardo taunted. Alessandro’s mind was racing. NO! Not Colin. He could not let that imbecile take Brianna away from him. He’d have to be eliminated somehow. Alessandro began to plot all the different ways he could ensure that Colin Neally stayed away from his wife, permanently. They all involved grisly, violent methods. He could not be allowed to win Brianna. "
― E. Jamie , The Betrayal (Blood Vows, #2)
48
" Indeed, she had the whole of the other sex under her protection; for reasons she could not explain, for their chivalry and valour, for the fact that they negotiated treaties, ruled India, controlled finance; finally for an attitude towards herself which no woman could fail to feel or to find agreeable, something trustful, childlike, reverential; which an old woman could take from a young man without loss of dignity, and woe betide the girl––pray Heaven it was none of her daughters!––who did not feel the worth of it, and all that it implied, to the marrow of her bones! "
― Virginia Woolf , To the Lighthouse
50
" Drugs and medical technology can be enormously beneficial when used to take care of real complications, but too often they are abused when applied to women birthing normally. These women are thus subjected to unnecessary risks. The key to this problem is informed consent, an ideal too seldom realized. Informed consent means that no woman during pregnancy or labor should ever be deceived into thinking that any drug or procedure (Demerol, Seconal, spinals, caudals, epidurals, paracervical block, etc.) is guaranteed safe. Not only are there no guaranteed safe drugs, but many of them have well-known, recognized side effects and potential side effects.
Informed consent should mean that no woman would ever hear such falsehoods as, “This is harmless,” or, “I only give it in such a small dose that it can’t affect the baby,” or, “This is just a local and won’t reach the baby. "
― Susan McCutcheon , Natural Childbirth the Bradley Way
