Hey, Ocean Eyes,” my father said. “Where’d you go on us?

Because horror on Earth is real and it is every day. It is like a flower or like the sun; it cannot be contained.

In my 20s, I railed against anything 'spiritual', I thought it was all crap.

She didn't even have to smile, and she rarely did outside her house--it was the eyes, her dancer's carriage, the way she seemed to deliberate over the smallest movement of her body.

How could it be that you could love someone so much and keep it secret from yourself as you woke daily so far from home?

I wake up very early in the morning. I like to start in the dark, and I never work at night, because my brain is evaporated by 4 p.m.

Who would have thought something that happened that long ago could have such power?