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

“Girls took to dressing like boys, and though women had obtained the vote, we had swiftly moved on to pursuing flashier freedoms: necking in cars and smoking cigarettes and walking down city streets in flesh colored stockings.”

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

“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.”

“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.”

“...That kind of love is always changing, you can never plant your feet on it. Trust me there will be others. But those kinds of affairs-you can't ever count on them like blood.”

“Henry wondered not for the first time if her blood ran red or black.”