Pleasure at simply being there had him swinging fast across the road, shooting up the snaking lane carved into the rock, then, in shock, slamming on the brakes to avoid crashing into a high iron gate. He scowled at it for a moment before the intercom beside his car buzzed on. "Templeton House. May i help you?"What the hell is this? Who put this damn thing up?"I-Mr. Joshua?"Recognizing the voice, he struggled to bank down on his irritation. "Annie, open this ridiculous gate, will you? And unless we're under attack, leave the damn thing open.
Nora RobertsAbout author
- Author's profession: Author
- Nationality: american
- Born: October 10, 1950
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O trees of life, O when are you wintering?
We are not unified. We have no instincts
like those of migratory birds. Useless, and late,
we force ourselves, suddenly, onto the wind,
and fall down to an indifferent lake.
We realise flowering and fading together.
And somewhere lions still roam. Never knowing,
as long as they have their splendour, of any weakness.
Rainer Maria Rilke