My uncle Max was a mountain, a shooting star, a big bear of a man, a piggyback ride waiting to happen, his pockets full of candy and, later money, or whatever the particular currency of our ages happened to be. He was rock concerts, baseball games, he was yes when my parents were no, he was a consolation for every disappointment.

In the end, I cared about him so much that I just thought he deserved someone who loved him more than I did.

The universe conspires to reveal the truth and to make your path easy if you have the courage to follow the signs.

Motherhood was an ever widening circle of good-byes.

I don't believe in mistakes. Never have. I believe that there are a multitude of paths before us and it's just a matter of which way we walk home. I don't believe in regret. If you regret things about your life, than I'll bet that you're not paying attention. Regret is just imagining that you know what would have happened if you took that job in California or married your high-school sweetheart or just looked one more time before you stepped out into the street ... or didn't. But you don't know; you can't possibly know.

You [meaning mothers] said good-bye a little every day -- from the minute they left your body until they left your home.

Everyone always talks about how well mothers know their children. No one ever seems to notice how well children know their mothers.