Her visits to her former hometown were infrequent and often painful. Pilgrimages fueled by the tepid oxygen of family duty, unease, guilt. The more Esther loved her parents, the more helpless she felt, as they aged, to protect them from harm. A moral coward, she kept her distance.

The best revenge is living well without you.

A good, sympathetic review is always a wonderful surprise.

There is nothing "ordinary" about reality.

Without craft, art remains private. Without art, craft is merely hackwork.

... such speculation is like staring into the hot white sun. you know the sun is there but you can't see a thing.

I would suggest the widow do things the husband used to do, so he seems to be there with you. You will feel like just going to bed. It's so wonderful, going to bed.