It was the oldest sound there was. Souls flying away.

It shocks me how I wish for...what is lost and cannot come back.

As an adolescent, I went to charm school, where I learned to pour tea and relate to boys, which, as I recall, meant giving them the pickle jar to unscrew, whether it was too hard for me or not.

Sometimes, in order to say yes to what matters most, I must say no to good things.

You can't stop your heart from loving, really -- it's like standing out there in the ocean yelling at the waves to stop.

I'd forgotten how that sort of craving felt, how it rose suddenly and loudly from the pit of my stomach like a flock of startle birds, then floated back down in the slow, beguiling way of feathers.

Where had I been that I didn't know about imaginary friends? I could see the point of it. How a lost part of yourself steps out and remind you who you could be with a little work.