I didn't want to see her because it would make me feel better. I came because without her, it's hard to remember who I am.

There are some things, I think, you're btter off not remembering.

Losing Chloe had been like reading a wonderfulook only to realize that all the pages past a certain point were blank.

The best thing about endings is knowing that just ahead is the daunting task to start over.

Was there a language of loss? Did everyone who suffered speak a different dialect?

There are all sorts of experiences we can't really put a name to...The birth of a child, for one. Or the death of a parent. Falling in love. Words are like nets--we hope they'll cover what we mean, but we know they can't possibly hold that much joy, grief, or wonder. Finding God is like that, too. If it's happened to you, you know what it feels like. But try to describe it to someone else--and language only takes you so far.

I'm telling you, if aliens landed on earth today and took a good hard look at why babies get born, they'd conclude that most people had children by accident, or because they drink too much on a certain night, or because birth control isn't one hundred percent, or for a thousand other reasons that really aren't very flattering.