For we lose not only by death, but also by leaving and being left, by changing and letting go and moving on.

Being in love is better than being in jail, a dentist's chair, or a holding pattern over Philadelphia, but not if he doesn't love you back.

I don't intend to stop showing a little cleavage. Nor do I intend to stop flashing a little thigh.

Passionate investment leaves us vulnerable to loss. And sometimes, no matter how clever we are, we must lose.

If his mother was drowning and I was drowning and he had to choose one of us to save, He says he'd save me.

Craving that old sweet oneness yet dreading engulfment, wishing to be our mother's and yet be our own, we stormily swing from mood to mood, advancing and retreating-the quintessential model of two-mindedness.

Not listening is probably the commonest unkindness of married life, and one that creates - more devastatingly than an eternity of forgotten birthdays and misguided Christmas gifts - an atmosphere of not loving and not caring.