Sometimes I think illness sits inside every woman, waiting for the right moment to bloom. I have known so many sick women all my life. Women with chronic pain, with ever-gestating diseases. Women with conditions. Men, sure, they have bone snaps, they have backaches, they have a surgery or two, yank out a tonsil, insert a shiny plastic hip. Women get consumed.

Republicans go to Sam’s Club, Democrats go to Costco.

I'm a true-crime addict. It's not something I'm particularly proud of, but I can't stop.

I ached once, hard, like a period typed at the end of a sentence.

I feel like I need to give people a note with the book that says, 'I'm OK, no worries!'

Don't be discouraged - every relationship you have is a failure, until you find the right one.

The question I've asked more often during our marriage, if not out loud, if not to the person who could answer. I supposed these questions storm cloud over every marriage: What are you thinking how are you feeling? Who are you? What have we done to each other? What will we do?