I've never been socially outgoing, but I suspect I've gotten more and more ambivalent about making new friends. I'm irritated by how-do-you-do chit-chat, but that's how new relationships usually begin.

Looking for the perfect day is not going to make us happy, because that day isn't going to come.

I don't know if my mother was a narcissist - or bi-polar or borderline. Those were words she tossed around over the years.

Researchers warn us against walking out on married life without a dang good reason.

The first person who ever told me that happiness was work was this manic-depressive artist I knew when I was in my 20s. I was like, 'What are you talking about? Happiness just happens. That's even the root of that word. How could it be work?

They say change gets more difficult as we get older - each year we're more stuck in our ways, more reluctant to learn something new.

I've been thinking about disowning some of my genes lately. I have a few healthy, happy, long-living optimists in my family tree - most of them fans of Christian Science founder Mary Baker Eddy, a major champion of positive thinking. But I've got plenty of ancestors who played out more tortured hands.