It kills you to see them grow up. But I guess it would kill you quicker if they didn't.

Your own family resemblances are a frustrating code, most easily read by those who know you least.

You don't think you'll live past it and you don't really. The person you were is gone. But the half of you that's still alive wakes up one day and takes over again.

If you're standing in the manure pile, it's somebody's job to mention the stink.

Stop a minute, right where you are. Relax your shoulders, shake your head and spine like a dog shaking off cold water. Tell that imperious voice in your head to be still.

What keeps you going isn't some fine destination but just the road you're on, and the fact that you know how to drive.

It's a great freedom to give up on love, and get on with everything else.