Henry shook his head, 'I was drunk,' he said, trying to sound both ashamed and firm in this belief. He remembered the rosebush incident very clearly, of course, but he knew that sneaking into the bedroom window of his fiancee's little sister wasn't something he wanted to explain to his father. Sometimes, Henry reflected, being taken for a perpetual drunk was sort of convenient.

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

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

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

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

That was how the heroine of a book would play it and Diana was still writing her own story the best heroines she'd always believed took their fate into their own hands.

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.