Too often in my life, love has been defined as "humiliation with occasional roses".

They say religion is about love, but you wonder how much of it really is about fear.

I guess forgiveness, like happiness, isn’t a final destination. You don’t one day get there and get to stay.

At the root of every large struggle in life is the need to be honest about something that we do not feel we can be honest about. We lie to ourselves or other people because the truth might require action on our part, and action requires courage. We say we “don’t know” what is wrong, when we do know what is wrong; we just wish we didn’t. Art lets us tell the truth, but even art can be something to hide behind.

If time heals all wounds, and a book can hold a person's entire life, then you can speed up the process with a pulp time warp.

The most true-love words are not the ones that grasp and hold and bind you, twisting you both up together in some black dance. No, they are ones that leave you free to stand alone on your own solid ground, leave him to do the same, a tender space between you.

I thought I might cry, the way you do when someone gives you some kindness when you most need it but when it seems the most surprising thing.