There was a desperate undercurrent to our marriage--a feeling of being in a dream from which I couldn't seem to awaken. A nagging sense that my life, laid out so neatly like the clothes Deirdre left on my divan, was no longer my own.

So many of the things I've wanted are the things I've been taught to fear.

Fate,' I said, 'Is a theif.

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.

It doesn't matter how much his mother loves him; love is not enough to keep any of us alive.

I start trying to stay unconscious. The problem with this is that no amount of willpower can change the reality.

Fall has always been my favorite season. The time when everything bursts with its last beauty, as if nature had been saving up all year for the grand finale.