You can argue that it's a different world now than the one when Matthew Shepard was killed, but there is a subtle difference between tolerance and acceptance. It's the distance between moving into the cul-de-sac and having your next door neighbor trust you to keep an eye on her preschool daughter for a few minutes while she runs out to the post office. It's the chasm between being invited to a colleague's wedding with your same-sex partner and being able to slow-dance without the other guests whispering.

I tell you this as a cautionary tale: beware of getting what you want. It's bound to disappoint you.

If we don't change the direction we are headed, we will end up where we are going.

This isn't a lie, actually. I don't care why Edward left. All I really want to know is why I wasn't enough to make him stay.

Was it the act of giving birth that made you a mother? Did you lose that label when you relinquished your child? If people were measured by their deeds, on the one hand, I had a woman who had chosen to give me up; on the other, I had a woman who'd sat up with me at night when I was sick as a child, who'd cried with me over boyfriends, who'd clapped fiercely at my law school graduation. Which acts made you more of a mother? Both, I realized. Being a parent wasn't just about bearing a child. It was about bearing witness to its life.

Campbell" Julia says "Don't do this to me" "Do what?" "Push me off the same cliff twice

You’ll tell yourself anything you have to, to pretend that you’re still the one in control.