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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.

Anna Godbersen

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Anna Godbersen
Age: 44
Born: 1980
Born: April 10
Writer
Berkeley
California
Would
Stories
Heroine
Stills
Diana
Still
Heroines
Best
Believed
Book
Fate
Play
Took
Writing
Story
Always
Hands

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You love her, Teddy observed quietly. Henry replied with an uncharacteristic lack of irony: Yes. Teddy's eyes shifted to the plaster interlacing that decorated the ceiling in curlicues. Lord, you never make it easy, do you. No.
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There was plenty of life left and if he had to he would use it all to get her back. The time had passed for making promises to her-all that was left for him was to act.
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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 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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As she always did on any really important day, Penelope Hayes wore red.
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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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Already she could feel the stunning weight of a lifetime of regret for letting him go, and she knew that it was enought to bury her alive.
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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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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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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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Instead, he sat in the parlor of his family's Fifth Avenue mansion, growing older by the minute just like everybody else.
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Henry closed his eyes and imagined the sweet petulant woundedness with which she had stared at him on the beach. He felt a little proud that she could love him.
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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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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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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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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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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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