A whole big, giant world full of men. Men with blue eyes. Brown eyes. Green eyes. And indescribable shades in between. Tall men. Short men. Skinny men. Built men. And all combinations thereof. Nice men (so I've heard, but never really seen). Mean men. Decent men, indecent. And who knows which is the best kind to have, to hold, to love? I'd say, with so many men in the world, it would pay to sample a few. Scratch that. More than a few. Lots and lots. And then a few more. And maybe, after years of research, you might find one worth not throwing back. But hey, the fun is in the fishing.

The problem with falling in love is falling back out of it again, usually because you've fallen in love with a lie. That happens as often as not.

I think parents should know what their children are reading, and if they truly object, they should tell their kids why, rather than summarily removing a book from their possession.

Can a dream be wrong? Aren't dreams God's way of telling you things?

Sad, that lives can be shattered, into so many pieces that they can never be put back together, the the relentless force of love. Irreparable.

When You Weren’t Looking The child became a woman, though she wasn’t ready to. Don’t ask how or why. Those questions are not important ones. Can’t you see you didn’t care enough to notice?

Memory is a tenuous thing. . . . flickering glimpses, blue and white, like ancient, decomposing 16mm film. Happiness escapes me there, where faces are vague and yesterday seems to come tied up in ribbons of pain. Happiness? I look for it intead in today, where memory is something I can still touch, still rely on. I find it in the smiles of new friends, the hope blossoming inside. My happiest memories have no place in the past; they are those I have yet to create.