The Lord turned water into wine. All I'm suggesting is a trip to the grocery store.

History could hover, like a faint perfume or a memory stamped on the back of one's eyelids.

Things break all the time. Glass and dishes and fingernails. Cars and contracts and potato chips. You can break a record, a horse, a dollar. You can break the ice. There are coffee breaks and lunch breaks and prison breaks. Day breaks, waves break, voices break. Chains can be broken. So can silence, and fever... promises break. Hearts break.

I keep quite busy, walk 5 miles a day, and have an excellent hairdresser who keeps the gray out of my red hair.

When the news you don't want to hear is looming before you like Everest, two things can happen. Tragedy can run you through like a sword, or it can become your backbone. Either you fall apart and sob, or you say, 'Right. What's next?

What if love wasn't the act of finding what you were missing but the give-and-take that made you both match?

The act of writing... is the act of trying to understand why my opinion is what it is. And ultimately, I think that's the same experience the reader has when they pick up one of my books.