It's such a shame to waste time. We always think we have so much of it.

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

I had a very high-grade publisher tell me I was incapable of writing a memoir.

Parents rarely let go of their children, so children let go of them. They move on. They move away. The moments that used to define them - a mother's approval, a father's nod - are covered by moments of their own accomplishments. It is not until much later, as the skin sags and the heart weakens, that children understand; their stories, and all their accomplishments, sit atop the stories of their mothers and fathers, stones upon stones, beneath the waters of their lives.

Didn't people call New Year's the loneliest night on the calender? She took comfort in knowing somewhere on the planet, someone might be as miserable as she was.

I still think there is a way to take all the mistakes that we've made as adults and put a little bit of a salve on them, a little bit of a fix on them, if we just are a little smarter in what we teach our kids.

I believe that you live on inside the hearts and minds of everyone you've touched while you were here on earth.