Forgiveness Is Hard. Acceptance Is Doable.

It Was Like Discovering That Some Part Of You Wasn't Yours At All. And It Made Me Wonder What Else I Couldn't Claim.

But If Everything Was Always Smooth And Perfect, You'd Get Too Used To That, You Know? You Have To Have A Little Bit Of Disorganization Now And Then. Otherwise, You'll Never Really Enjoy It When Things Go Right.

I Knew, In The Silence That Followed, That Anything Could Happen Here. It Might Be Too Late: Again, I Might Have Missed My Chance. But I Would At Least Know I Tried, That I Took My Heart And Extended My Hand, Whatever The Outcome. "okay," He Said. He Took A Breath. "what Would You Do, If You Could Do Anything?" I Took A Step Toward Him, Closing The Space Between Us. "this," I Said. And Then I Kissed Him.

She Said Writting Novels Was Like Childbirth: If You Truly Remembered How Awful It Got, You'd Never Do It Again.

I'd Seen Another Shade Of Him, And If It Had Been Light Where We Were Now, He'd Have Seen The Same Of Me. So I Was Grateful, As I Had Been So Often In My Life, For The Dark.