Quote

The first stab of love is like a sunset, a blaze of color - oranges, pearly pinks, vibrant purples.

Anna Godbersen

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Anna Godbersen
Age: 44
Born: 1980
Born: April 10
Writer
Berkeley
California
Color
Pearly
Firsts
Oranges
First
Stab
Love
Blaze
Like
Vibrant
Orange
Sunset
Purples
Crush
Pinks

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It had been an awful thing to lose Henry the first time, to matrimony, but to discover what a false front he was capable of was another kind of blow, and it had left her almost speechless. Then there was the fury with herself—for she had known what Henry’s love was, and still she had gone back to suffer a little more at his hands.
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She was trying to sound tough and impatient, but she knew that vulnerable desire to be wooed was still brimming in her tone.
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Even when a girl is married she still never completely leaves her mother and father's home.
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That was how the heroine of a book would play it and Diana was still writing her own story the best heroines she'd always believed took their fate into their own hands.
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A young lady's most natural ally is her sister although sometimes our own relatives are as inscrutable to us as an antipodean.
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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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She should have know that villains often come with pretty faces.
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I can't imagine what my life was before. I can't imagine ever being without you for very long again.
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Girls took to dressing like boys, and though women had obtained the vote, we had swiftly moved on to pursuing flashier freedoms: necking in cars and smoking cigarettes and walking down city streets in flesh colored stockings.
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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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So this was betrayal. It was like being left alone in the desert at dusk without water or warmth. It left your mouth dry and will broken. It sapped your tears and made you hollow.
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A young woman, newly wed, may find herself in the delightful position of wanting to do nothing without the company of her darling husband. She may indeed discover that she spends all her waking hours with her fellow to the exclusion of every other friend or family member. This is understandable, but wholly unacceptable, to society.
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She felt so much aware of her own beauty it seemed inconceivable that everybody else wouldn't notice the difference too.
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Interesting people were her favorite hobby. She collected them: the type who did gay things late at night and smoked cigarettes in mixed company, those would have most scandalized her own mother.
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That was the way love was, she guessed-it left you always unsteady on your feet.
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