Men are afraid that women will laugh at them. Women are afraid that men will kill them. —Margaret Atwood
She talks and talks because whenever she is silent she finds herself looking at him and her breath grows a little short.
Then there were those girls who became midwives: girls who could not get enough of the tiniest of babies - girls who would grow into women who absolutely reveled in the magnificent process of birth......
And just as there is random horror-murder,suicide,child abuse,car accidents.......there is also indiscriminate kindness.Not merely miracles,though I have experienced them.But simple human connection,e...
And so Cristina submerged her ears beneath the water and the world grew a little quieter; her hair fanned out atop the plane and she ran her fingers through it and was reminded of a goddess in a Renai...
But she insists the family hadn’t a choice. Not true. We always have choices. Isn’t that what Dante teaches us?I really have become quite the Dante scholar: There is no greater sorrow than to recall o...
Even a magnificent city such as Florence becomes more intriguing if there is a demon at work in the alleys.
Everything about [chance] scares the bejesus out of so many people; it's the this thing they try to avoid at all costs. Don't travel to the Middle East these days - there's a chance something could ha...
How the Germans can remain allies with the Turks is beyond me. No European nation would ever commit the sorts of crimes that this regime is blithely committing right now.
I love it when the snowflakes are flying like butterflies.
Serafina may think I’m a crazy person, but I’m not. She has her scars, too—and not only the ones I saw when she turned her head and her hair fell aside. We are both living out our lives in a Purgatori...
She did it because it was, like so much else that made her happy, dangerous and self-destructive and just a little bit sick.
As Jeremy Bentham had asked about animals well over two hundred years ago, the question was not whether they could reason or talk, but could they suffer? And yet, somehow, it seemed to take more imagi...
Boys look at us like we look at horses: color, height, eyes. tail. They can't help but have preferences.
Did you know that a lot of Emily Dickinson’s poems can be sung to the theme from Gilligan’s Island? Not kidding, this is totally legit.
If they veered left, it would feel to them as if they were sinking into the earth: the path would narrow as the ground around them rose up to their hips, then shoulders, then heads. The walls would tu...
If you were Bill Clinton, how did you justify Monica Lewinsky to Chelsea? What did you say about the cigar and the beret and the little blue dress? If you were Anthony Weiner, how in the world did you...
It was Aldous Huxley who observed, Every man’s memory is his private literature.
My mother used to talk about passages and, once in a while, about ordeals. We all have them; we are all shaped by them. She thought the key was to find the healing in the hurt.
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