I learned to knit in 2002, six months after my 5-year-old daughter, Grace, died suddenly from a virulent form of strep. I was unable to read or write, and friends suggested I take up knitting; almost immediately I fell under its spell.

Even now, there are still days so beautiful, I almost believe in God.

Don't waste your one beautiful life.

No one can write like Cheryl Strayed.

I have learned that there is more power in a good strong hug than in a thousand meaningful words.

The only language she could speak was grief. How could he not know that? Instead, she said, "I love you." She did. She loved him. But even that didn't feel like anything anymore.

love is reliable. infatuation is temporary.