when you speak of other people's marriages, you are, of course, saying something about your own.

I did not survive everything. No one ever does. Little pieces of you - sometimes the best of you - get lost in a little lie here, a little joke there. And of course, the aftereffect is the tiny sob - unseen, unheard, deeply felt.

it was first love. There's no love like that. I don't wish it on a soul. I don't hate anyone enough.

The dying process begins the minute we are born, but it accelerates during dinner parties.

Looking out of a hospital window is different from looking out of any other. Somehow you do not see outside.

I don't think marriages break up because of what you do to each other. They break up because of what you must become in order to stay in them.

Hate is funny. Love isn't. Love can kill you. Hate can keep you alive.