No One Can Write Like Cheryl Strayed.

My Daughter, Grace, Was Not Killed By A Gun. She Died Suddenly At Age 5 From A Virulent Form Of Strep. As I Stood Stunned In A Church At Her Memorial, One Of The Hardest Things I Heard Someone Say Was, 'i'm Going To Go Home And Hug My Child A Little Tighter.' 'well, Good For You,' I Thought. 'i'm Going To Go Home And Scream.'

Time Doesn't Heal, I Had Learned, It Just Keeps Moving. And It Takes Us With It.

Don't Waste Your One Beautiful Life.

Love Is Reliable. Infatuation Is Temporary.

My Cousins And I Used To Play Beatle Wives. We All Wanted To Be Married To Paul, But John Was O.k. Too. None Of Us Wanted Ringo. Or Even Worse, George.