I used to think there would be a blinding flash of light someday, and then I would be wise and calm and would know how to cope with everything and my kids would rise up and call me blessed. Now I see that whatever I'm like, I'm pretty well stuck with it for life. Hell of a revelation that turned out to be.

Pride was my wilderness, and the demon that led me there was fear.

In some families, please is described as the magic word. In our house, however, it was sorry.

I am rampant with memory.

Animals are less alone with roaring than we are with all these words.

Privacy is a privilege not granted to the aged or the young.

Bless me or not, Lord, just as You please, for I'll not beg.