There is a limit to how much you can change to be liked for who you really are.

As I may or may not say to the Lord on Judgment Day, "You ask a lot of questions for someone who has so much explaining to do"

If indeed the death of a child is part of a larger plan, you wonder if God ever considered a smaller plan.

In the time it takes you to understand a 14-year-old, he turns 15.

Once you become the mommy or daddy in your child's world, it is the only world in which you exist, no matter how much you fancy there is a separate world of your own.

There is in every artist's studio a scrap heap of discarded works in which the artist's discipline prevailed against his imagination.

Sometimes I wonder — if I were drop-dead handsome, and every woman I met actually dropped dead, would I ever get tired of it?