She was becoming sad. There is no joy involved in following others' expectations of yourself

Her faith in a loving and forgiving God is strong, but she worships laughter.

It's raining questions around here. A person could drown in them.

Conversing with children is a fine art.... An art form that demands large amounts of both honesty and misdirection. Or maybe discretion is a better word.

I had a thought, on the way home from the rock field, that the things we don't know about a person are the things that make them human, and it made me feel sad to think that, but sad in that reassuring way that some sadness has, a sadness that says welcome home in twelve different languages.

She was becoming sad. There is no joy involved in following others' expectations of yourself

It bothered me in a kind of Charles Manson way to have a brown smear of blood on my wall but I also liked it because every time I looked at it I was reminded that I was, at that very moment, not bleeding from my face. And those are powerful words of hope, really.