Run as far as you can in the direction of your best and happiest dreams across the bridge that was built by your own desire to heal.

The healing power of even the most microscopic exchange with someone who knows in a flash precisely what you're talking about because she experienced that thing too cannot be overestimated.

…the death of my mother was the thing that made me believe the most deeply in my safety: nothing bad could happen to me, I thought. The worst thing already had.

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

Can I convince the person about whom I'm crazy to be crazy about me? The short answer is no. The long answer is no.

I think being a woman alone enhanced the impulse in others to be generous. What we're told is that to be a woman alone is to be in a dangerous situation. The message is that people are gong to prey on you and do bad things to you. That may be true in some cases, but what I experienced was the other case.

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