We stumble on, thinks Jaslyn, bring a little noise into the silence, find in others the ongoing of ourselves. It is almost enough.

I don't really know what an adverb is. A dangling participle? That sounds really rude. I don't know what character is, really. Plot seems vaguely juvenile to me. It's all about language, it's all about how you apply it to the page.

I was fascinated by the lack of a word for a parent who has lost a child. We have no word in English. I thought for sure there'd be a word in Irish but there is none. And then I looked in several other languages and could not find one, until I found the word Sh'khol in Hebrew. I'm still not sure why so many languages don't have a word for this sort of bereavement, this shadowing.

There is always room for at least two truths.

The stars looked like nail heads in the sky--pull a few of them out and the darkness would fall.

People think they know the mystery of living in your skin. They don't. There's no one who knows except the person who carts it around her own self.

I have different books for different times of the day, let alone different seasons of the year!