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.

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.

Diana knew it wouldn't be right, but then she told herself that things only looked wrong when there was someone to see you.

She was full of some strange energy that morning. Her every movement had purpose and life and she seemed to find satisfaction in every little thing.

Among her other talents were forgetting what she did not like and ignoring what she preferred not to see.

Diana felt she was beginning to understand why, in all those novels she read, the headiest loves were the loves that couldn't be.

After Henry's treatment of her she wasn't sure that men could honestly love women but she wanted to believe it. She wanted to be told pretty things and for the frightening clip of her heart to slow to something more reasonable.