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.

She should have know that villains often come with pretty faces.

I've always believed in savoring the moments. In the end, they are the only things we'll have.

It had been an awful thing to lose Henry the first time, to matrimony, but to discover what a false front he was capable of was another kind of blow, and it had left her almost speechless. Then there was the fury with herself—for she had known what Henry’s love was, and still she had gone back to suffer a little more at his hands.

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.

Living too much in one's head can be dangerous.

Instead, he sat in the parlor of his family's Fifth Avenue mansion, growing older by the minute just like everybody else.