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

A man is made in the rough-and-tumble of the world a lady emerges from the flossy back rooms of her own imagination.

They will stop calling brides beautiful after today—you have simply set the standard too high,' he said.

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.

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.

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.

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.