Don't bother trying to guilt me. Ask my other. It doesn't work.

It's not my fault who I am. The only think that's my fault is what I choose to do

My philosophy is pretty simple – any day nobody’s trying to kill me is a good day in my book.

Finally, he knew the kind of loving that made two one and understood Jane was his world. His ocean, his country, his sun, his rain, his very heart.

Home, Ms. Lane?” His deep voice was gently amused. “I have to call it something,” I said morosely. “They say home is where the heart is. I think mine’s satin-lined and six feet under.

I hope when I'm ninety-five the only things I want are free: love, family, a good home-cooked meal.

Nobody looks good in their darkest hour. But it's those hours that make us what we are. We stand strong, or we cower. We emerge victorious, tempered by our trails, or fracture by a permanent, damning fault line.