When it comes to memories, the good and the bad never balance.

Gay rights is not something most of us think about - because most of us happen to have been born straight.

I wish I could tell him I understand: the higher you raise your hopes, the farther you have to fall.

It was one thing to sacrifice your own life for someone else's. It was another thing entirely to bring into the mix a third party - a third party who knew you, who trusted you implicitly.

There should be a statute of limitation on grief. A rulebook that says it is all right to wake up crying, but only for a month. That after 42 days you will no longer turn with your heart racing, certain you have heard her call out your name. That there will be no fine imposed if you feel the need to clean out her desk; take down her artwork from the refrigerator; turn over a school portrait as you pass - if only because it cuts you fresh again to see it. That it's okay to measure the time she has been gone, the way we once measured her birthdays.

Maybe you had to leave in order to really miss a place; maybe you had to travel to figure out how beloved your starting point was.

I found plain truth very interesting.