While she cut the mushrooms, she cried more than she had at the grave, the most so far, because she found the saddest thing of all to be the simple truth of her capacity to move on.

I give boring people something to discuss over corn.

As a writer you ask yourself to dream while awake.

It seemed to happen in springs, the revealing of things.

To see someone you love, in a bad setting, is one of the great barometers of gratitude.

I admired that stride; it was like he folded space in two with it.

Many kids, it seemed, would find out that their parents were flawed, messed-up people later in life, and I didn't appreciate getting to know it all so strong and early.