I think about the hurt that stories cannot ease, not with a thousand tellings.

Sometimes I think that if it were possible to tell a story often enough to make the hurt ease up, to make the words slide down my arms and away from me like water, I would tell that story a thousand times.

I think about the hurt that stories cannot ease, not with a thousand tellings.

But how do you ever know that you know a person?

the enduring struggle to capture in words the infinite possibilities of a life not lived.

Love and marriage are wonderful arenas in which to place a character. We are most likely to risk our morals and beliefs while in love. Betrayal gives tremendous insights into a character as well.

A person walks into a room and says hello, and your life takes a course for which you are not prepared. It's a tiny moment (almost-but not quite-unremarkable), the beginning of a hundred thousand tiny moments and some larger ones.