Men kick friendship around like a football, but it doesn't seem to crack. Women treat it like glass and it goes to pieces.

Grief can't be shared. Everyone carries it alone. His own burden in his own way.

Perhaps this is the most important thing for me to take back from beach-living: simply the memory that each cycle of the tide is valid; each cycle of the wave is valid; each cycle of a relationship is valid.

One learns first of all in beach living the art of shedding; how little one can get along with, not how much.

Marriage is tough, because it is woven of all these various elements, the weak and the strong. "In love-ness" is fragile for it is woven only with the gossamer threads of beauty. It seems to me absurd to talk about "happy" and "unhappy" marriages.

Only in growth, reform, and change, paradoxically enough, is true security to be found.

The web of marriage is made by propinquity, in the day to day living side by side, looking outward in the same direction. It is woven in space and in time of the substance of life itself.