They turned a distracted gaze on the world, wide-eyed, somehow, and questioning.

He wished he had some kind of X-ray vision for the human heart.

Then she had been a fiancee, a young wife, and a mother, and she had discovered that these words were far too small ever to contain the experience.

It wasn't right. He knew that, but it was like falling: once you started you couldn't stop until something stopped you.

Its impossible to control the reception of your work - the only thing you can control is the experience of writing itself, and the work you create.

...bleak territory of the heart.

Though Lexington is not a small town, it sometimes feels like one, with circles of acquaintance overlapping once, then again; the person you meet by chance at the library or the pool may turn out to be the best friend of your down-the-street neighbor. Maybe thats why people are so friendly here, so willing to be unhurried.