You have to start over. That's what they say. But life is not a board game, and losing a loved one is never really "starting over." More like "continuing without.

She had a bottomless well of love for me.

You can find something truly important in an ordinary minute.

I believe he died this way on purpose. I believe he wanted no chilling moments, no one to witness his last breath and be haunted by it, the way he had been haunted by his mother's death-notice telegram or by his father's corpse in the city morgue.

All that happens when your dreams come true is a slow, melting realization that it wasn't what you thought.

Kids chase the love that eludes them, and for me, that was my father's love. He kept it tucked away, like papers in a briefcase. And I kept trying to get in there.

Every day, have a little bird on your shoulder that asks, 'Is today the day? Am I ready? Am I doing all I need to do? Am I being the person i want to be? Is today the day I die?