Even though I don't write about things that come from my life because I'm lucky, and I live in a great place with great kids and, you know, a great husband, I think you can find threads of me in the characters, so that's really what being a writer is, probably.

She had never been a pretty crier. She sobbed the way she did everything else - with passion and excess.

Hopefully, more and more people will come to understand that a child who's "different from" is not one who is "lesser than."

When your mother is made out of your dreams, anything real is bound to disappoint you.

You are only as invincible as your smallest weakness, and those are tiny indeed - the length of a sleeping baby's eyelash, the span of a child's hand. Life turns on a dime, and - it turns out - so does one's conscience.

I know you love me. The question is, how much?

It's disappointing to know that someone can see right through you.