{"quotes":[{"text":"My father was a Catholic, a coal miner in the Big Pit. My mother a Jew. A charwoman, when she could find the work. They didn’t fit in Wales. Nor in the U.K., either. They didn’t fit with each other all that well, for that matter. They fought every day for as long as I can remember and loved each other more than anyone I’ve ever known. At least they did right up till a night when he looked right and not left at a train crossing in Chepstow and ended up half a mile from where he’d started, dead as the Ghost. Looking for a job, he was. Turned out he didn’t need one.","author":"Patrick Reinken","tags":["death","fighting","love","wales"],"id":2468,"author_id":"Patrick+Reinken"},{"text":"She led them to their pallets, again encircled by other pallets. She sat down, sighing at her aching muscles, and caught his gaze. “You may, er, wrap your arms around me if that will make you feel I am safer.” He chuckled--a hoarse chuckle, rusty, but a chuckle nonetheless. She’d take it. “May I indeed?” He lay beside her and pulled her back against him, settling her head on his arm, bunching the other hide up to use as a pillow. “If I must.” His warm sigh tickled across her neck. “After all, I must ensure that pinkie does not wander.” Would Robert never let her forget that?","author":"Angela Quarles","tags":["historical-romance","knight","knightly-romance","medieval-romance","norman","time-travel-romance","wales","welsh"],"id":13528,"author_id":"Angela+Quarles"},{"text":"It was an American who said that while a Frenchman's truth was akin to a straight line, a Welshman's truth was more in the nature of a curve, and it is a fact that Welsh affairs are entangled always in parabola, double-meaning and implication. This makes for a web-like interest....","author":"Jan Morris","tags":["language","wales"],"id":33601,"author_id":"Jan+Morris"},{"text":"The tall, thin serious man strode in, his dark cloak billowing so dramatically it threatened to extinguish the lamp flame with its draught. He advanced like a malevolent shadow consuming the dim orange light, filling the room with a presence almost more than human.","author":"Gregory Figg","tags":["british","historical-fiction","kings","medieval-fantasy","medieval-literature","wales"],"id":38274,"author_id":"Gregory+Figg"},{"text":"Wizard Howl,' said Wizard Suliman. 'I must apologize for trying to bite you so often. In the normal way, I wouldn't dream of setting teeth in a fellow countryman.","author":"Diana Wynne Jones","tags":["humor","wales","welsh"],"id":48636,"author_id":"Diana+Wynne+Jones"},{"text":"During the day, memories could be held at bay, but at night, dreams became the devil's own accomplices.","author":"Sharon Kay Penman","tags":["dreams","memories","nightmares","princes","wales"],"id":52849,"author_id":"Sharon+Kay+Penman"},{"text":"Out in the stone-pile the toad squatted with its glowing jewel-eyes and, maybe, its memories. I don't know if you'll admit a toad could have memories. But I don't know, either, if you'll admit there was once witchcraft in America. Witchcraft doesn't sound sensible when you think of Pittsburgh and subways and movie houses, but the dark lore didn't start in Pittsburgh or Salem either; it goes away back to dark olive groves in Greece and dim, ancient forests in Brittany and the stone dolmens of Wales. All I'm saying, you understand, is that the toad was there, under its rocks, and inside the shack Pete was stretching on his hard bed like a cat and composing himself to sleep.('Before I Wake...').","author":"Henry Kuttner","tags":["america","brittany","greece","pittsburgh","salem","toad","wales","witch","witchcraft","witches"],"id":59706,"author_id":"Henry+Kuttner"},{"text":"Her pinkie took matters into its own, er, pinkie, and moved oh-so-slightly, grazing his skin. His pinkie, judging by the shape and texture. Blood rushed and pounded through her veins, flushing her skin. This could not, in any way, be explained as an accidental touch. But he could feign sleep if he wasn’t interested. Did she want him to do that? What was she doing? She commanded her pinkie to drop, and thankfully, it obeyed. A jolt shot through her as his finger made a query, and the need clarified. The need represented her desire for some measure of control. Control over her general situation. Control over her attraction. She answered with a gentle finger stroke along his calloused, warm skin. A sharp breath pierced the dark air.","author":"Angela Quarles","tags":["historical-romance","knight","medieval-romance","time-travel-romance","wales"],"id":76430,"author_id":"Angela+Quarles"},{"text":"His heat, his erotic pull—she could feel it. A weird, pulsing, virtual pull tugging at her skin, her nerve endings. Made her want to…touch. Made her want. The more she resisted the urge, the stronger it became. It would be a relief, really. To just…touch. One little touch. Just one.","author":"Angela Quarles","tags":["historical-romance","knight","medieval-time-travel-romance","wales"],"id":78175,"author_id":"Angela+Quarles"},{"text":"There are no more gates, only hinges clinging to the walls like broken spiders.","author":"J. Anderson Coats","tags":["historical","the-wicked-and-the-just","wales","ya","young-adult-fiction"],"id":86663,"author_id":"J.+Anderson+Coats"}],"pagination":{"page":1,"page_size":10,"total":32,"pages":4,"next":"?page=2\u0026page_size=10"}}