...nothing momentous comes in this world unless it comes on the shoulders of kindness.

I considered her my ally, because, like me, she was imperfect.

If you ask me, when something extraordinary shows up in your life in the middle of the night, you give it a name and make it the best home you can.

Being a novelist and being a mother have exactly coincided in my life: the call from my agent saying that I had a contract for my first novel - that was on my answering phone message when I got back from the hospital with my first child.

As long as I kept moving, my grief streamed out behind me like a swimmer's long hair in water. I knew the weight was there but it didn't touch me. Only when I stopped did the slick, dark stuff of it come floating around my face, catching my arms and throat till I began to drown. So I just didn't stop.

I'm never going to tell the reader what to believe; I'm going to examine these characters that believe different ways, and examine their motives.

This will be Great Mam's last spring. Her last June apples. Her last fresh roasting ears from the garden.