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“What goes in the mind is forgotten, what goes in the stomach just passes through, but that which goes in the heart is locked, like a keepsake diary, that never leaves you.”
― Anthony Liccione

“She found another intriguing object, and she held it up to inspect it.
A button.
Her brow creased as she stared at the front of the button, which was engraved with a pattern of a windmill. The back of it contained a tiny lock of black hair behind a thin plate of glass, held in place with a copper rim.
Swift blanched and reached for it, but Daisy snatched it back, her fingers closing around the button.
Daisy's pulse began to race. "I've seen this before," she said. "It was a part of a set. My mother had a waistcoat made for Father with five buttons. One was engraved with a windmill, another with a tree, another with a bridge... she took a lock of hair from each of her children and put it inside a button. I remember the way she took a little snip from my hair at the back where it wouldn't show."
Still not looking at her, Swift reached for the discarded contents of his pocket and methodically replaced them.
As the silence drew out, Daisy waited in vain for an explanation. Finally she reached out and took hold of his sleeve. His arm stilled, and he stared at her fingers on his coat fabric.
"How did you get it?" she whispered.
Swift waited so long that she thought he might answer.
Finally he spoke with a quiet surliness that wrenched her heart. "Your father wore the waistcoat to the company offices. It was much admired. But later that day he was in a temper and in the process of throwing an ink bottle he spilled some on himself. The waistcoat was ruined. Rather than face your mother with the news he gave the garment to me, buttons and all, and told me to dispose of it."
"But you kept one button." Her lungs expanded until her chest felt tight on the inside and her heartbeat was frantic. "The windmill. Which was mine. Have you... have you carried a lock of my hair all these years?”
― Lisa Kleypas, Scandal in Spring

“Do you know anything about the woman who gave birth to you?"
"No, and I dinna need to."
Merritt's dark eyes seemed to look right inside him. "The gold key..."
Keir smiled slightly at her perceptiveness. "She left it with me at the orphanage. I wear it because... I suppose 'tis a small way of honoring her. I owe her that much at least, after the pain I caused her."
A tiny crinkle appeared between her fine brows. "Do you mean childbirth?"
"That, and the sorrow of having to give away her bairn." He paused reflectively. "I think I was one of many men who hurt her, one way or another. A lass who was protected and loved would no' have found herself in such circumstances.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil in Disguise

“Carrying a photograph of someone in your pocket is like carrying a little bit of their soul.”
― José Saramago, All the Names

“Stepping back, he went to his bedside table. He returned carrying something. Opening his palm, he revealed the heart-shaped pendant he'd given her so many months ago.
"I've kept this," he explained. "You might say it's become a talisman of sorts. I... I carry it everywhere. But I'm going to give it to you again, if you'll take it. Whether you decide ever to wear it or not is up to you."
"Jack," she murmured, as she let him press the jewelry into her hand.”
― Tracy Anne Warren, Seduced by His Touch

“Safely cocooned in my room, wrapped in the pink-and-gold bedspread that still smelled of nutmeg and sandalwood, I removed the coin from its tiny pocket in my skirt and studied the silver-eyed queen. She had a mischievous, run-away-with-me sort of smile, and for a moment I felt my heart swoop like something taking flight, tasted cedar and salt in my mouth-”
― Alix E. Harrow, The Ten Thousand Doors of January

“A folded slip of paper fell from the wallet, and she began to tuck it back in. "We'll keep all your things right here, and..." Her voice faded as she saw the imprint of typed letters on the parchment.
It was a carefully torn strip of the page she had typed at the office.

Mr. Keir MacRae Lady Merritt Sterling

"Oh," Merritt heard herself whisper, while her heartbeats went scattering like pearls from a broken necklace. It was only a scrap of paper and ink... but she understood what it meant.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil in Disguise