I like flaws. I think they make things interesting.

No relationship is perfect, ever. There are always some ways you have to bend, to compromise, to give something up in order to gain something greater.

I honestly don't have many creative outlets. I'm not crafty - although motherhood has forced me to try to be - and I can only draw trees, beaches, and clouds. I'm a so-so cook except for deviled eggs. Writing has always been the one thing I feel that I am pretty good at doing. But it's enough, thank goodness.

Grief can be a burden, but also an anchor. You get used to the weight, how it holds you in place.

This was our common ground, the secret we shared but never spoke aloud.

I used to worry I was entirely uninteresting, but the truth is I think if my life was more exciting I'd never have any time to write.

You know," I told him,"if you don't know how to eat a cupcake, that's nothing to be ashamed of." Now he did smile. "I know how to eat a cupcake." "Sure you do." "I do," he said. "I just don't want one of those." "Yeah? Prove it.