Better to accept the wretched truth than struggle, twisting to make a wish a reality.

The women in the room chatted about love, about childhood, about losing parents, about Mr. Spock, about good books they'd read. They mothered each other.

Or - perhaps - I should just worry about my own behavior and let others be who they are.

No good ever comes from putting up walls. What people mistake for safety is in fact captivity. And few things thrive in captivity.

Don't mistake dramatics for a conscience.

But, like peace, comfort didn't come from hiding away or running away. Comfort first demanded courage.

I'm just like this. I have no talent for choosing my battles. Life seems, strangely, like a battle to me. The whole thing.