She Said Writting Novels Was Like Childbirth:

I Didn't Trot My Pain Out To Show Around. I Kept It Better Hidden Than Anyone. I Did.

Everything Looks Different When You're Older, Not Staring Up At The World But Down Upon It.

You're Not A Sucker. You're Just Nice. You Give People The Benefit Of The Doubt.

I Had No Illusions About Love Anymore. It Came, It Went, It Left Casualties Or It Didn't. People Weren't Meant To Be Together Forever, Regardless Of What The Songs Say.

I Wasn't Sure What I Expected Her To Do Or Say To This. It Was All New To Me From That Second On. But Clearly, She'd Been There Before. It Was Obvious In The Easy Way She Shrugged Off Her Bag, Letting It Fall With A Thump Onto The Sand, Before Sitting Down Beside Me. She Didn't Pull Me Close For A Big Bonding Hug Or Offer Up Some Saccharine Words Of Comfort, Both Of Which Would Have Sent Me Running For Sure. Instead She Gave Me Nothing But Her Company, Realizing Even Before I Did This That This, In Fact, Was Just What I Needed.