One Thing I Can Tell You For

Alice Started To Cry. It Came With No Sound, No Shuddering, No Childlike Hysterics, Just A Soul-deep Release That Turned Into Moisture And Dripped Down Her Puffy Pink Cheeks. She Touched Her Tears, Frowning. Then She Looked Up At Julia And Whimpered Two Words Before She Fell Asleep. ‘real Hurts.’

Hands Down, The Hardest Part For Me Is Coming Up With An Idea. I Spend About 14 Months Writing A Book, And That's A Lot Of Hours Spent Thinking About A Single Project. I Simply Have To Love The Idea. I'll Go Through Dozens Of Workable Ideas Until I Find The One That Lights My Fire.

He Was Afraid That The Secrets She'd Kept Would Always Be Here, Inside Him, An Ugly Malignant Thing Lodged Near Enough To His Heart To Upset Its Rhythm, And Though It Could Be Removed, Cut Out, There Would Always Be Scars; Bits And Pieces Of It Would Remain In His Blood, Making It Wrong Somehow, So That If He Accidentally Sliced His Skin Open, His Blood Would--for One Heartbeat--flow As Black As India Ink Before It Remembered That It Should Be Red.

The Measure Of A Society Is Its Compassion.

As Mothers And Daughters, We Are Connected With One Another. My Mother Is The Bones Of My Spine, Keeping Me Straight And True. She Is My Blood, Making Sure It Runs Rich And Strong. She Is The Beating Of My Heart. I Cannot Now Imagine A Life Without Her.