Twitter," said Manny, waving his hand. "You know what that is? Termites with microphones.

Books light the fire-whether it's a book that's already written, or an empty journal that needs to be filled in.

Just the act of sleeping beside someone you liked to be with. Maybe that was love.

It seemed that everywhere you went, people quickly adapted to the way they had to live, and called it Life.

The minute you had kids you closed ranks. You didn't plan this in advance, but it happened. Families were like individual, discrete, moated island nations. The little group of citizens on the slab of rock gathered together instinctively, almost defensively, and everyone who was outside the walls—even if you'd once been best friends—was now just that, outsiders.

Even if you yourself were unhappy and anxious, whenever you glimpsed happiness in your child, you suddenly became happy too.

Both my mother and I have close groups of friends that include other writers, and these friendships are very important to us.