The question I hate the most is "How did you DO it - write novels and raise your children simultaneously!" I mean, do MALE authors get asked that??

Jacob's room is the place entropy goes to die.

Everyone thinks you make mistakes when you're young. But I don't think we make any fewer when we're grown up

I wanted him to feel what I felt when I was with him: that incredible combination of comfort, decadence, and wonder; the knowledge that, with just a single taste of him, I was addicted.

It's like the psychiatrists themselves are buying into that stupid belief that therapy is something to hide.

What could you give me," I ask, my voice shaking, "to make me forget ... that you forgot about me?

what made you happy once might not make you happy now.