There was a difference between people looking at you because they wanted to be like you, and people looking at you because your misfortune brought them one rung higher.

When you are a kid you have your own language, and unlike French or Spanish or whatever you start learning in fourth grade, this one you are born with, and eventually lose...Kids think with their brains cracked wide open; becoming an adult...is only a slow sewing it shut.

You can’t undo something that’s happened; you can’t take back a word that’s already been said out loud.

If it is possible to die of grief then why on earth can't someone be healed by happiness?

The best place to cry is on a mother's arms.

I believe in love. I think it just hits you and pulls the rug out from underneath you and, like a baby, demands your attention every minute of the day.

I imagined what it would be like to hold a butterfly in your hands something bejeweled and treasured and to know that despite your devotion it was dying by degrees.