Fate is shaped half by expectation, half by inattention.

My sisters and I stand, arms around each other, laughind and wiping the tears from each others eyes. The flash of the Polaroid goes off and my family hands me the snapshot. My sisters and I watch quietly together, eager to see what develops. Ghe grey-greensurface changes to the bright colors of our three images, sharpening and deepening all at once. And although we don't speak, I know we all see it: Together we look like our mother. Her same eyes, her same mouth, open in suprise to see, her long-cherished wish.

I'd like to be more forgiving. There are times when I've had a hard time forgiving people who have betrayed me.

All objects exist in a moment of time.

Chance is the first step you take, luck is what comes afterward.

Even though I was young, I could see the pain of the flesh and the worth of the pain.

For unlike my mother, I did not believe I could be anything I wanted to be. I could only be me.