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.

Love is all right, as things go, but lovers can be a terrible waste of a girl's time.

He was just like summer, and she loved summer. If she had any wish, it would be to live a lifetime of summers.

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.

You don’t need to marry a man with millions. You only need to be your exquisite self.

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.

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.