I learned a long time ago with you that folks who were trying to be kind would rather do it with a macaroni-and-cheese bake than any personal involvement. You hand off a serving dish and you've done your job - no need to get personally involved, and your conscience is clean. Food is the currency of aid.

A lie took two parties - the weaver of the tale and the sucker who so badly wanted to believe it.

Princes don't come around everyday, and happy endings don't grow on trees

I have only known her for two years. But if you took every memory, every moment, if you stretched them end to end-they'd reach forever.

After all, once you know that part of something exists, it stands to reason that the rest of it is somewhere out there, too.

All writers start with a layer of truth, don't they? If not, their stories would be nothing but spools of cotton candy, a fleeting taste wrapped around nothing but air.

Why do some memories bleed out of nowhere and others stay locked behind doors?