There are no really new stories anymore.

People love talking, and I have never been a huge talker. I carry on an inner monologue, but the words often don't reach my lips.

I'm all for whatever transitions the book properly to a movie.

I was not a lovable child, and I'd grown into a deeply unlovable adult. Draw a picture of my soul, and it'd be a scribble with fangs.

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?

There’s something disturbing about recalling a warm memory and feeling utterly cold.

Tampon commercial, detergent commercial, maxi pad commercial, windex commercial - you'd think all women do is clean and bleed.