The writing of Kathleen McGookey shines more brightly than most fine things we feel pleasure to read. Celebrate it!

I'm writing mostly to thank you for living you eighty years and to tell you I love you and think of you often.

I think the job of writing and literature is to encourage each one of us to believe that we're living in a story.

Maybe when your mother died young, you became instantly old.

Later our dreams begin catching fire around the edges, they burn like paper, we wake with our hands full of ash.

Being alive is a common road. It's what we notice makes us different.

This is the world I want to live in. The shared world.