I didn't know how...deep love ran, how it was in your blood, not your heart, and how that same blood pumped through your veins your whole life.

Some stories don't have happy endings. Even love stories. Maybe especially love stories.

Promises were a lot like impressions. The second one didn't count for much.

In the sea of grief, there were islands of grace, moments in time when one could remember what was left rather than all that had been lost.

Thoughts - even fears - were airy things, formless until you made them solid with your voice and once given that weight, they could crush you.

She'd been criticized for holding the reins of parenthood too tightly, of controlling her children too completely, but she didn't know how to let go. From the moment she'd first decided to become a mother, it had been an epic battle.

I have often wished in the past few years that my mom were here to help me as I raised my own teenage son. As a girl, with my own mom, I thought I knew it all; now I know better. Somewhere, I know my mom is smiling.