Being an outsider is the one thing we all have in common.

Being human means losing everything we love best in the world," she murmured as she released me. "But would you ask to be anything else?

No one knows you like a person with whom you've shared a childhood. No one will ever understand you in quite the same way.

Cleaning up after themselves was a low priority for Margo and my mother. They had both recovered from cancer scares, failed marriages, and lost hope; in their opinion, dirt could wait.

Even in times when it's difficult to figure out, how do you go forward, art - and books - always help

She was so busy forgetting, she couldn't take a single step into the future.

The grass he walked through was new and a sweet smell clung to his clothes. There was blue dye on his hands from the wild irises... that the color of the sky was a shade that could never be replicated in any photograph, just as Heaven could never be seen from the confines of Earth.