Maybe that's what it all comes down to. Love, not as a surge of passion, but as a choice to commit to something, someone, no matter what obstacles or temptations stand in the way. And maybe making that choice, again and again, day in and day out, year after year, says more about love than never having a choice to make at all.

When I meet someone I like being with more than I like being alone, I'll marry her.

there is always something comforting about knowing that you are not alone. That other people feel the way you do. That you are a bit screwed up, but still normal.

How different this moment feels, for so many reasons. I tell myself that no two loves are identical - but that I don't have to compare anymore.

Love is seldom—almost never—an even proposition. Someone always loves more.

Where we belong is often where we least expect to find ourselves—a place that we may have willed ourselves to forget, but that the heart remembers forever.

I try to write about real women, real people - in other words flawed characters.