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THE LUXE IS . . . Pretty girls in pretty dresses, partying until dawn. Irresistible boys with mischievous smiles and dangerous intentions. White lies, dark secrets, and scandalous hookups. This is Manhattan in 1899.

Anna Godbersen

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Anna Godbersen
Age: 44
Born: 1980
Born: April 10
Writer
Berkeley
California
Dangerous
Intentions
Pretty
Secrets
Secret
Dawn
Partying
Dark
Dresses
Scandalous
Party
Intention
Mischievous
Lying
Girls
Manhattan
White
Lies
Smiles
Girl
Boys
Irresistible

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The world is such a marvel - it gave you trials, but if you were still and concentrated, if you tried to do the right thing, it always provided you with salvation.
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In New York there is always something to look at, but it is all infinitely more interesting through a window in the backseat of a limousine.
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She was full of some strange energy that morning. Her every movement had purpose and life and she seemed to find satisfaction in every little thing.
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Don't go looking for boys in the dark They will say pretty things then leave you with scars. Do go looking for boys in the park For that is where the true gentlemen are.
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That is what I want to tell you about: the girls with their short skirts and bright eyes and big-city dreams. The girls of 1929.
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Oh yes, well, I find myself unconventional everywhere.
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Always stay sharp on railways and cruise ships for transit has a way of making everything clear.
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You don’t need to marry a man with millions. You only need to be your exquisite self.
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She was like a heroine in a novel that she herself was writing the character kept protesting that she was too strong for love and yet the narrator went on describing her desire.
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Among her other talents were forgetting what she did not like and ignoring what she preferred not to see.
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She was a vision in a white gown her dark hair forming a hazy halo around her rosy heart-shaped face. Her long lashes fluttered to touch her cheeks and then her eyes opened fully in his direction. Her small round mouth flexed in an immediate and knowing smile. That's the girl I'm going to marry Henry thought.
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The living are made of nothing but flaws. The dead, with each passing day in the afterlife, become more and more impeccable to those who remain earthbound.
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Her heart the damned thing had begun to race and she only hoped that the rapid inflation and deflation of her chest wasn't visible beneath her fitted bodice.
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So this is how life was, she thought with a faint smile: It wore you down until you emerged at its wildest, most unexpected ends.
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Though her emotions had not deviated from a jittery frailty she knew that in her own room she could at least attempt sleep and that if she dreamed she might then finally be with Henry.
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She had rarely been near Henry since then, and the sight of him now was like a concentrated dose.
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I've always believed in savoring the moments. In the end, they are the only things we'll have.
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She found herself longing for home-not just for the hotel but for New York and all the real novels that she could lose herself in there.
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The first stab of love is like a sunset, a blaze of color - oranges, pearly pinks, vibrant purples.
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What was it about that short creature with her wild hair and spurious air of purity and why would anyone much less two men love her and to such disastrous ends.
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