You wake up one morning, those years are gone. There's a comfort in this fact perhaps. I want to think that there must be comfort in all facts we can't alter.

Most people think that a widow is inhabiting some elegiac world of - it's like Mozart's 'Requiem Mass.' You know, it's very beautiful and elevated thoughts and some measure of dignity. I didn't have that experience at all. I had one pratfall after another.

Stories come to us as wraiths requiring precise embodiments.

Paradox: how do we know what we have failed to see because we have no language to express it, thus we cannot know that we have failed to see it.

No, the thing is, we all love storytelling, and as a writer you get to tell stories all the time.

...failure is a human condition, not victory over odds; for each Hellen Keller who triumphs, there are tens of millions who fail, mute and deaf and insensate as vegetables tossed upon a vast garbage pile to rot.

In no other sport is the connection between performer and observer so intimate, so frequently painful, so unresolved