One withers, another grows.

Suddenly, details seemed extremely important. Details were something to grab on to, a way to insert myself into the story.

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.

What's wrong with being number 2?

Life has to end, love doesn't.

Did you feel guilty cursing God--you, of all people?' No,' he said. 'Because even in doing so, I was recognizing there was a greater power than me.' He paused. And that is how I began to heal.

Do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself.