I wonder why we always deny love. I remember in middle school, if you were accused of the crime of loving, you screamed denials constantly and stopped ever even looking at the boy you were accused of liking. The boys could destroy each other by yodeling, "An-drew lo-oves Jen-nie," and both Andrew and Jennie would flinch and blush. Love is this great thing that most songs and books and poems and lives are all about. So the minute we actually think there might be love around, we start laughing and pretending and hiding from it.

But sometimes, in tight corners, when your back is against the wall and the world is against you, you have to fight back in unexpected ways.

People think they own time. They have watches and clocks and digital pulses. But they are wrong. Time owns them.

I believe my voice is pretty much the same. I've written 75 books, so I'm better at it now than I was earlier in my career

But I found my family. I found the right thing to do. I found the way home.

I'll take you to Mickey D's," said Sean. "I'll buy you a hamburger." Annie was not thrilled. Sean's offer did not compare to offers made in other centuries. "And fries," Sean said. "And a vanilla milkshake." Annie remained unthrilled. "Okay, okay. You can have a Big Mac." Romance in my century, she thought, is pitiful.

People nearly always believe, and are willing to back it up with weapons and cruelty, that their religion and way of life is better than the other person's