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.

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.

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.

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

Life was a short window and there was no sense in doing the wrong thing over and over even if it was so difficult to stop.

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.

All really interesting girls invent themselves.