The old story is true:Women have to be less emotional than men.

We read each other through our eyes, and anatomically they are an extension of our brains. When we catch someone's eye, we look into a mind.

under our love making I felt a bleakness that couldnt be dispelled. The sadness was in both of us, and I think we pitied ourselves that night, as if we were other people looking down on the couple who lay together on the bed

Not telling is just as interesting as telling I have found. Why speech, that short verbal journey from inside to outside can be excrutiating under certain circumstances is fascinating.

A book is a collaboration between the one who reads and what is read and, at its best, that coming together is a love story like any other.

Memory changes as a person matures.

Crippled and crazy, we hobble toward the finish line, pen in hand.