Quote

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
Like
Kept
Novel
Went
Narrator
Desire
Narrators
Strong
Heroine
Character
Protesting
Writing
Heroines
Love
Describing

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She had had no idea what it would do to her seeing him in a suit.
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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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To look in the face of hard things and keep moving forward - that's what one has to do.
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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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All really interesting girls invent themselves.
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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 considered herself unconventional.
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But in that moment she realized how false most smiles were and what a tremendous waste of time.
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A lady must retain always her composure. Even in a rainstorm, she must appear joyous and dry. When she loses her composure, then the respect of her peers and her staff will follow in short order.
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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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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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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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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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Henry was thinking of the younger Holland sister of the way she could go from being an impetuous girl to a knowing woman in a few seconds and never lose the stars in her eyes.
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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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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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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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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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Love is all right, as things go, but lovers can be a terrible waste of a girl's time.
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Heart-stopping envy is the sincerest form of flattery.
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