Nothing made sense to me anymore. I knew I was young, I knew I was small. But I was worried that I might already be ruined.

Thanksgiving was nothing more than a pilgrim-created obstacle in the way of Christmas; a dead bird in the street that forced a brief detour.

...handsome people are always interesting to watch. But a handsome person in crisis is riveting.

No matter how huge your loss, as long as you remain engaged with your life, the best days of your life may still be ahead of you. Don't misunderstand me: the pain of your loss will remain with you for the rest of your life. But great joy will be there right beside it. Deep sorrow and deep joy can exist within you, side by side. At every moment. And it's not confusing. And it's not a conflict.

I don't have a fixed routine. I write every day but I don't "write" every day, if that makes any sense. In other words, I email with my friends constantly and sometimes I'll pull out something I've written and save it.

The line between normal and crazy seemed impossibly thin. A person would have to be an expert tightrope walker in order not to fall.

What police officer would dare ticket Death's minivan?