It's and old, old story: I had a friend and we shared everything, and then she died and so we shared that, too.

The flaw is the thing we love.

Grief doesn't necessarily make you noble. Sometimes it just makes you crazy, or primitive with fear.

the mother's first job is to raise a daughter strong enough to outlast her.

The real hell of this," he told her, "is that you're going to get through it.

I'd confused need with love and love with sacrifice.

The belief that life was hard and often its worst battles were fought in private, that it was possible to walk through fear and come out scorched but still breathing.