The first week of August hangs at the very top of summer, the top of the live-long year, like the highest seat of a Ferris wheel when it pauses in its turning. The weeks that come before are only a climb from balmy spring, and those that follow a drop to the chill of autumn, but the first week of August is motionless, and hot. It is curiously silent, too, with blank white dawns and glaring noons, and sunsets smeared with too much color.

Readers are lucky - they will never be bored or lonely.

I have a wonderful husband, and we have had a great life.

my mother always found me out. Always. She's been dead for thirty-five years, but I have this feeling that even now she's watching.

Still-there's no use trying to figure why things fall the way they do. Things just are, and fussing don't bring changes.

For some, time passes slowly. An hour can seem like an eternity. For others, there was never enough. For Jesse Tuck, it didn't exist.

Don't fear death, fear the un-lived life