We write to taste life twice," Anais Nin wrote, "in the moment and in retrospection.

Did you know there are thirty-two names for love in one of the Eskimo languages?" August said. "And we just have this one. We are so limited, you have to use the same word.

I can't think of anything I'd rather have more than somebody lovin' me.

So I taught Sunday school and brought dishes to all manner of potlucks and tried to adjust the things I heard from the pulpit to my increasingly incongruent faith.

I wanted to know what happened when two people felt it. Would it divide the hurt in two, make it lighter to bear, the way feeling someone's joy seemed to double it?

Sunset is the saddest light there is.

We write to taste life twice," Anais Nin wrote, "in the moment and in retrospection.