But I saw the pain and sadness in everything, and swirled it round my mouth like a fine wine.

At least you know where you are with blood. At least other people can see it.

It took a long time, but my heart now feels full when I think of him. When you fall in love again—which I have—it's funny the other things that come back in with that open-ness. You have this ghost chorus of the lovers who came before, but they're benign now, they're good spirits.

My radar, after all these years of sanity, is still off when it comes to what people do or don't mean.

I want you to stay. I never want there to be a time when we don't share space.

I think it's sort of the hypothetical point where communism and fascism meet. They love tragedy, and they love surface beauty. You just watch it play out over and over in the media. It was the English edition of Glamour who were looking for stories of Iraqi war widows, but specified that they had to be attractive.

No one ever loved you like him. And no one ever took it away so completely. But it's here. Look around.