It was a terrible decision, and I confess I'd make it again.

It was my fifth grade teacher who introduced the idea that writing could be more than a hobby for me.

It isn’t a perfect place. There are no perfect places. But nobody cares about perfection when there are sand castles to build and kites to chase, children that are being born, old hearts that are giving in.

Don't you miss it?" I say. "Being free." He laughs.

His three wives are huddled together on the bare mattress, one of them dying; when we're together, we form an alliance he can't touch. He's scared to even try.

She's beautiful and graceful, and she is very compassionate and loyal when you aren't responsible for the murder of her family.

I think humans have always been desperate. I think it has always been about doing something awful if it might help, when the only other option is death. Maybe that's what being a parent is supposed to feel like.