It was like a dream you might have after death in which lost people came back to life, your friends loved you again no matter what you had done, and your failures were unaccountably forgiven.

Maybe there is more truth in how you feel than in what actually happens.

We forgive and forget. At least I forgive and he forgets.

There are going to be moments of deep, deep doubts, and you have to have faith that your initial idea was good and just muddle through.

She had willed her heart to stay small and contained, but it wouldn’t be. Oh, well.

It’s natural to overlook and even sacrifice the things that belong to us most easily most gracefully. So here’s me asking you to please not make that mistake.

Bridget's anger evaporated and the sadness came back. The anger was easier. She owned and contolled it, whereas the sadness owned her.