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They seemed to come suddenly upon happiness as if they had surprised a butterfly in the winter woods.

Edith Wharton, Ethan Frome, 1911

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When he thought of [her] it was abstractly, serenely, as one might think of some imaginary beloved in a book or a picture: she had become the composite vision of all that he had missed.

Edith Wharton, The Age of Innocence, 1920

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And you’ll sit beside me, and we’ll look, not at visions, but at realities.

Edith Wharton, The Age of Innocence, 1920

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