Mostly You Meet Friends When Traveling By

I Remember Asking Myself One Night, While I Was Curled Up In The Same Old Corner Of My Same Old Couch In Tears Yet Again Over The Same Old Repetition Of Sorrowful Thoughts, 'is There Anything About This Scene You Can Change, Liz?' And All I Could Think To Do Was Stand Up, Whle Still Sobbing, And Try To Balance On One Foot In The Middle Of The Living Room. Just To Prove That - While I Couldn't Stop The Tears Or Change My Dismal Interior Dialogue - I Was Not Yet Totally Out Of Control: At Least I Could Cry Hysterically While Balanced On One Foot.

There Is A Level Of Grief So Deep That It Stops Resembling Grief At All. The Pain Becomes So Severe That The Body Can No Longer Feel It. The Grief Cauterizes Itself, Scars Over, Prevents Inflated Feeling. Such Numbness Is A Kind Of Mercy.

That's Your Friend. My Husband Is My Best Friend. He's Not The Mirror That Holds Up My Flaws. He's Just The Guy Who's Like, 'i Think You're Terrific'... It's Just Simple, Showing Up For Each Other.

You Can Measure The Happiness Of A Marriage By The Number Of Scars That Each Partner Carries On Their Tongues, Earned From Years Of Biting Back Angry Words.

Nothing Is So Essential As Dignity…time Will Reveal Who Has It And Who Has It Not.