It is easy to forget now, how effervescent and free we all felt that summer.

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.

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.

There was no pleasure like being envied on a mass scale.

As she always did on any really important day, Penelope Hayes wore red.

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

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