Real love moves freely in both directions. Don't waste your time on anything else.

The story of human intimacy is one of constantly allowing ourselves to see those we love most deeply in a new, more fractured light. Look hard. Risk that.

Whatever happens to you belongs to you. Make it yours. Feed it to yourself even if it feels impossible to swallow. Let it nurture you, because it will.

My mother's last word to me clanks inside me like an iron bell that someone beats at dinnertime: love, love, love, love, love.

Uncertain as I was as I pushed forward. I felt right in my pushing, as if the effort itself meant something.

I was amazed that what I needed to survive could be carried on my back. And, most surprising of all, that I could carry it.

Of course some people manage to write books really young and publish really young. But for most writers, it takes several years because you have to apprentice yourself to the craft, and you also have to grow up. I think maturity is connected to one's ability to write well.