When I lost my friends, it was because I had used the power of giving on them recklessly. I swept into their lives with my big fat checkbook, and I erased years of obstacles for them overnight - but sometimes, in the process, I also accidentally erased years of dignity.

The act of quiet nighttime talking, illustrates for me more than anything else the curious alchemy of companionship.

There are always two figures in a marriage, two votes, two conflicting sets of decisions, desires and limitations.

The inability to open up to hope is what blocks trust, and blocked trust is the reason for blighted dreams.

Who loves you most? Who loves you best? Who thinks of you when others rest?

You can measure the happiness of a marriage by the number of scars that each partner carries on their tongues, earned from years of biting back angry words.

The reality, certainly in my life, is that we all have love stories that go terribly wrong; we all have horribly broken hearts. And somehow we endure. We're not destroyed by it.