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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.

Anna Godbersen

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Anna Godbersen
Age: 44
Born: 1980
Born: April 10
Writer
Berkeley
California
Went
Narrator
Desire
Narrators
Strong
Heroine
Character
Protesting
Writing
Heroines
Love
Describing
Like
Kept
Novel

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We see our sins reflected everywhere: in the pallor of our intimates’ faces, in the scratching of tree branches against windows, in the strange movements of everyday objects. These may be messages from God or tricks of the eye, but in neither case are we permitted to ignore them.
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The headiest loves were the loves that couldn't be.
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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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Good night.' Diana summoned all the dignity that she could manage in her bedraggled state and began to move back up the beach. Her dress was soaked and her stockings dotted with sand and her heart couldn't possibly withstand any more.
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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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Diana knew it wouldn't be right, but then she told herself that things only looked wrong when there was someone to see you.
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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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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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Heart-stopping envy is the sincerest form of flattery.
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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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It is well known that a man, when wooing a lady to be his wife, must first win over the females she most confides in—her friends, of course, and her sister, if she has one.
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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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Ah well that I can't tell you. Diana ducked her head so that the brim of her bonnet covered her face. Some things must remain a mystery and for now I think I'll keep my opinion of you and your compliments to myself.
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They were all dressed in their finest as though life really were some magical stage play in which every moment ought to be illuminated with its own bright spotlight.
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It is a fact of big cities that one girl's darkest how is always another's moment of shining triumph, and New York is the biggest and cruelest city of them all.
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It seemed to her as though everything that was good and true had been blasted out of the world. All those things had been crushed destroyed made to disappear.
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They will stop calling brides beautiful after today—you have simply set the standard too high,' he said.
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Girls, their mother interjected, you must both stop being strange - it is unattractive. And don't forget your hats. It would be absolutely the end for me if you two came down with freckles at a time like this.
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Her life, she realized, had all the charm of a steel trap.
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Henry turned his hat in his hands but went on looking at Diana in a way that made her want to crawl into his arms and stay there forever.
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