On, there are so many lives. How we wish we could live them concurrently instead of one by one by one. We could select the best pieces of each, stringing them together like a strand of pearls. But that's not how it works. A human life is a beautiful mess.

Eye contact made people think you were being truthful even if you weren't.

Speak up,' says Myrna who has a fuzzy white caterpillar of a moustache. 'My hearing's not so good.' 'I WAS SHOT IN THE HEAD.' Liz turns to Thandi. 'I thought you said you didn't remember how you got the hole in your head.' Thandi apologizes. 'I just remembered.' 'Shot in the head!' Florence-scratchy-voice says. 'Oy, that's rough.' 'Aw, it's nothing special. Happens pretty regularly where I'm from,' Thandi says. 'WHAT?' asks Myrna with the moustache. 'Say it toward my left ear, that's the good one.' 'I SAID, "IT'S NOTHING SPECIAL,"' Thandi yells/

It was such a sweet, sad song with such sweet, sad lyrics. Old-fashioned a little, but also timeless.

You know everything you need to know about a person from the answer to the question, What is your favorite book?

We are not quite novels. We are not quite short stories. In the end, we are collected works

Daddy once said, "If you don't know what you believe, Annie, you'll be a lost soul.