I whispered to Dad during Rosh Hashanah services, "Do you believe in God?" "Not really," he said. "No." "Then why do we come here?" He sucked thoughfully on his Tums tablet and put his arm around me, draping me under his musty woolen prayer shawl, and then shrugged. "I've been wrong before," he said. And that pretty much summed up what theology there was to find in the Foxman home.

At this point in my life, I'm not looking for any happy endings. I'm just looking to get things started.

Forgiveness has its comforts, but it can never give you back what you've lost.

You're terrified of being alone. Anything you do now will be motivated by that fear. You have to stop worrying about finding love again. It will come when it comes. Get comfortable with being alone. It will empower you.

I'm really not a fan of voiceovers; I think they become a crutch.

Phillip is the Paul McCartney of our family: better-looking than the rest of us, always facing a different direction in pictures, and occasionally rumored to be dead.

At some point, being angry is just another bad habit, like smoking, and you keep poisoning yourself without thinking about it.