Truths are the last thing you learn about your family. By the time you learn, you're no longer their child.

In a family, what isn't spoken is what you listen for. But the noise of a family is to drown it out.

Much in our lives is chance.

That is the mystery: Reading Henry James can yield prose that is contrary to James, yet inspired by him. Who can understand this?

It feels good, honey, but it isn't love.

If my favorite, most comfortable place is by our fireplace in cold weather, expedient places are on an airplane, in a waiting room or even waiting in line; frequently these days, while on the phone having been 'put on hold.'

Like all virtuous people he imagines he must speak the truth.