The story it told was unremarkable: a tale of love found and lost- the oldest story in the world. The only story.

I would have stayed forever within the garden of Re-mose's childhood, but time is a mother's enemy.

Egypt loved the lotus becuase it never dies. It is the same for people who are loved. Thus can something as insignificant as a name-two syllables, one high, one sweet- summon up the innumerable smiles, tears, sighs and dreams of a human life.

He was golden and beautiful as a sunset.

I pray I die before they day comes when I do not know if my sons are infants or grandfathers.

I got nice rejections explaining that historical fiction was a difficult sell. But I kept trying.

It was one of those perfect fall days when the air is cool enough to wake you up but the sun is also kissing your face.