Words are like eggs dropped from great heights; you can no more call them back than ignore the mess they leave when they fall.

In half hour my mother has managed to give me what my father couldn't: my past.

She felt a cage coming down around her; too late she realized that he had her trapped by the heart. And like any unwilling animal that was well and truly caught, she could escape only by leaving a piece of herself behind.

A photo says, you were happy, and I wanted to catch that. A photo says, you were so important to me that I put down everything else to come watch.

But there's an enormous difference between an audience that's watching you because they can't wait to see what comes next and an audience that's watching you because they're waiting for you to fail.

You saved me," I said. Nathaniel put his hands on either side of my face. "I had to," he said. "So you could save me back.

So much of marriage was implicit and nonverbal. Had I gotten so complacent I'd forgotten to communicate?