There Are Many Different Ways To Be

Death Would Be A Complete Knowingness, But What Frightened Him Was This: Not Knowing Beforehand What It Was He Would Know.

Her Blog Was Doing Well, With Thousands Of Unique Visitors Each Month, And She Was Earning Good Speaking Fees, And She Had A Fellowship At Princeton And A Relationship With Blaine - "you Are The Absolute Love Of My Life," He'd Written In Her Last Birthday Card - And Yet There Was Cement In Her Soul. It Had Been There For A While, An Early Morning Disease Of Fatigue, Shapeless Desires, Brief Imaginary Glints Of Other Lives She Could Be Living, That Over The Months Melded Into A Piercing Homesickness.

Never Ever Accept 'because You Are A Woman' As A Reason For Doing Or Not Doing Anything.

And It's Wrong Of You To Think That Love Leaves Room For Nothing Else. It's Possible To Love Something And Still Condescend To It.

I Think You Travel To Search And You Come Back Home To Find Yourself There.