Fairytales were maps formed of blood and hair and bones; they were the knots of the sub-conscious unwound. Every word in every tale was real and as true as apples and stones. They all led to the story inside the story.

Margaret thought of all she knew for certain, that day would always follow night that love was never wasted nor was it lost.

That is how you know you've left childhood behind-when you wish for time to go backward.

I wasn't quite as certain that I knew her soul. When it came right down to it, I wasn't sure she knew me either.

Others said May was best, that sweet green time when lilacs bloomed and gardens along Main Street were filled with sugary pink peonies and Dutch tulips.

I think we are bound to, and by, nature. We may want to deny this connection and try to believe we control the external world, but every time there's a snowstorm or drought, we know our fate is tied to the world around us

He was in love, and people in that condition did stupid, unfathomable things. They were all flawed, every single one.