Some people come into your life and leave a mark.

That's how you know you really trust someone, I think; when you don't have to talk all the time to make sure they still like you or prove that you have interesting stuff to say.

When the reader and one narrator know something the other narrator does not, the opportunities for suspense and plot development and the shifting of reader sympathies get really interesting.

The kind of life I want is to be a person who would get a personal note every day.

Try a little tenderness.

I remember being in high school and listening to Vivaldi's 'Winter' and being so overwhelmed with emotion.

It makes me think of Lazarus. He must have had those shadows after his miracle. You don't spend time in the tomb without it changing you, and everyone who was waiting for you to come out.

I had them all fooled into believing I was normal and well-adjusted, a rock of sensibility who could always be counted on to have a positive attitude.

Life was mostly made up of things you couldn’t control, full of surprises, and they weren’t always good. Life wasn’t what you made it. You were what life made you.

Because love, love is never finished. It circles and circles, the memories out of order and not always complete.

When the remembering was done, the forgetting could begin.

You have no control of uncertainties! You can only control your life and your reaction to any event. May you find grace for patient endurance.

Tea- The sweetness of love, The fragrance of flowers, The comfort of a friend, The warmth of a hug-Such great delight gingerly poured from a single pink teapot.

My old man says when it's time to be counted, the important thing is to be man enough to stand up.

When people are depending on us, we end up finding strength we didn't know we had.

I understand - and often make fun of - the desire to run to the wall text before running to the painting.

Man mind yoursel is the first commandment.

Presenting feels like it did 50 years ago, but the pay's a lot better.

Understanding means throwing away your knowledge.

Who wants to be a goddess when we can be human? Perfection is a flaw disguised as control.

I'll pay you a million dollars if you tell your life story for true.