When my brother called to inform me, on the morning of May 22, 2003, that our mother Caroline Oates had died suddenly of a stroke, it was a shock from which, in a way, I have yet to recover.

It's one of those secrets that's embarrassing to acknowledge, but we do love our students.

The suicide does not play the game, does not observe the rules. He leaves the party too soon, and leaves the other guests painfully uncomfortable.

When you are writing literary writing, you are communicating something subtextual with emotions and poetry. The prose has to have a voice; it's not just typing. It takes a while to get that voice.

And so you must grant to God what is God and not try to think of what you have lost, for that way is madness.

Your punishment if you're a woman. Not loved enough.

A good, sympathetic review is always a wonderful surprise.