You might not write well every day, but you can always edit a bad page. You can't edit a blank page.
Sometimes there aren't words. The silence between us is flung wide as an ocean. But I manage to reach across it, to wrap my arms around him.
At 17, the smallest crises took on tremendous proportions; someone else's thoughts could take root in the loam of your own mind; having someone accept you was as vital as oxygen. Adults, light years a...
What I think is that there is no perspective in grief, or in love. How can there be, when one person becomes the center of the universe - either because he has been lost or because he has been found?
Many of my books come from what if questions that I can't answer, things that I'm worried about as either a woman, a wife, a mom, an American.
When you don't know where your headed you find places no one else would ever think to explore
Eskimos maybe? believed stars were holes in the sky where people who died could peek through at you
[I] don't think I was trying to kill myself. I just wanted to hurt, and understand exactly whay I was hurting. This made sense: you cut, you felt pain, period.
You told me this lawsuit isn’t about race. But that’s what started it. And it doesn’t matter if you can convince the jury I’m the reincarnation of Florence Nightingale—you can’t take away the fact tha...
You don't love someone because they're perfect, she says. You love them in spite of the fact that they're not.I don't know how to respond to that; it's like being told after thirty-five years that the...
Who knew that when you cut a slit in the belly of the night sky, it bled color?
What was the point of being able to forgive, when deep down, you both had to admit you'd never forget?
Things had a way of working out for the best when you let them run their course.
They ask, how could this happen here? Well. How could it not happen here?
There were two ways to be happy: improve your reality or lower your expectations.
There was a time when I prayed to saints. What I liked about them were their humble beginnings: they were human, once, and so you knew that they just got it in a way Jesus never would. They understood...
The saddest day in the world will be the one when she stops pretending.
That maybe who we are isn't so much about what we do, but rather what we're capable of when we least expect it.
Sometimes all you need to live one more day is a good reason to stick around.
Some people spend their whole lives looking for that one person. I was lucky enough to have her all along.