The word friends doesn't seem to stretch big enough to describe how we feel about each other. We forget where one of us starts and the other one stops.

I love that blurry place where life’s transitions are made without you even knowing it.

It was funny how the old practices always came around again. It was the rhythm of human enterprise to invent and worship some new approach, to fully reject it a generation later, to realize the need for it again a generation or two after that and then hastily reinvent it as new, usually without its original elegance. Scientists hated to look backward for anything.

She cared about him too much, and he was a dangerous person to love. He wouldn't love her back.

It was their mothers, long ago. Tibby noted with joy that all four of them were wearing jeans.

I think pants have unique qualities, especially in a woman’s life. Whatever bodily insecurities we have, we seem to take out on our pants.

She knew whose love she doubted. It wasn't her parents' and it wasn't her friends: It was her own.