I sometimes wonder if it is just me, or if there are other women who figure out where they are supposed to be by going nowhere.

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.

When the door opens, I realize that the only thing worse than waiting is the moment you realize a decision has been made.

Kids think with their brains cracked wide open; becoming an adult, I've decided, is only a slow sewing shut.

If you end your story, it's a static work of art, a finite circle. But if you don't, it belongs to anyone's imagination. It stays alive forever.

May be you had to come close to losing something before you could remember its value.

This is when I realize that Anna has already left the table, and more importantly, that nobody noticed.