Smile. It gives your face something to do.

I think you'd best make your peace with the past since you've come this far. I think you know by now that you won't go back again.

I've never written about my husband, Steve, or any of my children because I know them all too well. I see them in all their complexities which makes them impossible to render on the printed page.

The memory is like orbiting twin stars, one visible, one dark, the trajectory of what's evident forever affected by the gravity of what's concealed.

You try to keep life simple but it never works, and in the end all you have left is yourself.

There's nothing quite as irksome as someone else's mess.

Sometimes I claim I write because I put in an application at Sears and they've never called back.