Everything seems simple until you think about it.

That’s the thing about living vicariously; it’s so much faster than actual living. In a few minutes we’ll be worrying about names for the children.

It's funny how we like labels. If I ever have a bookstore, I'm not going to put any labels on the sections.

When it's over you look up: the world looks the same but you are somehow different and that feeling lingers for days.

And Clare, always Clare.

Home sweet home. No place like home. Take me home, country roads. Home is where the heart is. But my heart is here. So I must be home. Clare sighs, turns her head, and is quiet. Hi, honey. I'm home. I'm home.

Think for a minute, darling: in fairy tales it's always the children who have the fine adventures. The mothers have to stay at home and wait for the children to fly in the window.