All journeys have secret destinations of which the traveler is unaware. – Martin Buber.
It takes a lot of energy to be with other people. It’s easier to be myself when there’s no one else there.
Dammit. Now she was going to have to change her planner. Nina hated changing her planner.
The cornstalks act as supports for the climbing beans, the beans fix nitrogen in the soil for the corn and squash, and the squash provides mulch and root protection for the corn and beans. And then, just to make it all perfect, when you eat the corn and beans together, they form a complete protein.
I wish I was one of those people who clean as they go, who are models of organization and clarity, but I’m just not. If I find myself with a piece of paper in my hand, and I’m unsure where to put it, I lay it down on the nearest surface and hope it folds itself into a paper plane and flies wherever it’s supposed to go.
Someone once told me that anxiety lives in the unknown future, depression lives in the unforgettable past, and peace lives in acceptance of the present moment.
She cleared her throat. “I’m never going to give you up.” He replied, “Never going to let you down.” She said, “Never going to run around and desert you.
The only thing better than canceling plans is having the other person cancel plans.
Everyone contributes something, and I guess I bring the awkward.
Do you read books in order?” “Yes, if there is an order. If there isn’t an order, I read them in the order of publication.
It’s hard to love yourself while simultaneously striving to become the best you you can be, which implies your current version could use some work.
I think new relationships are definitely exciting, but I also think love sometimes feels like sailing into harbor.” She finished her wine. “Like running into someone you’ve known a long, long time but never met before.
You convince yourself you’re building a safety net for your kids when in fact it’s a trap they’ll spend the rest of their lives trying to get free of.
Catching and holding the attention of an eight-year-old on Halloween is like trying to catch a hummingbird with a piece of dental floss. It’s theoretically possible, but not very likely.
I’d learned early on in my career that the simplest way to succeed at work was to talk like a man, which means removing all warmth, doubt, and softness from every sentence. Try it; it’s surprisingly difficult.
When I hear about a woman beating her children, I often think the sentence “But those aren’t the Dora ones” must have been the last thing she heard before the red mist took away her sanity.
Because we sold you a book and you read it. That’s pretty much the whole life cycle of bookstores right there. If you didn’t enjoy it, I’m very sorry, but we can’t do anything about it.
He’d been lurking in the shadows, a catnip mouse nearby, fresh teeth marks dimpling its damp surface. Even cats cut loose on Saturday night.
Laura looked at the cat. The cat looked at her. Neither of them said anything, Laura because she didn’t speak cat and the cat because she was mentally composing a letter to her senator.
I’ve learned recently that my mind isn’t the safest neighborhood to go into alone.
Maybe your life is a well-orchestrated series of elegant vignettes, with perfect photo opportunities every ten minutes, but if you’re anything like the rest of us then you’re lurching from one near-disaster to the next, crossing your legs every time you cough so you don’t pee your pants after having had four children.