She was like a butterfly, full of color and vibrancy when she chose to open her wings, yet hardly visible when she closed them.

Both my parents loved words. That was the big deal in our house.

We are not the only animal that mourns; apes do, and elephants, and dogs. Yet we are the only one that tortures.

I knew I was going to be a journalist when I was eight years old and I saw the printing presses rolling at the Sydney newspaper where my dad worked as a proofreader.

Moral certainty can deafen people to any truth other than their own.

How strange it is, Anna. Yesterday, I have filed in my mind as a good day, notwithstanding it was filled with mortal illness and the grieving of the recently bereft. Yet it is a good day, for the simple fact that no one died upon it. We are brought to a sorry state, that we measure what is good by such a shortened yardstick.

Here we are, alive, and you and I will have to make it what we can.