Young people are inept at love; it is like being given a flying machine, and you leap inside, ready to set off as you’ve always dreamed, yet you don’t have the first notion of how...

How often in life do people make that awful sacrifice, that murder of possibilities?

So tell me gentleman, tell me the time and place where it was easy to be a woman.

A lover exists only in fragments, a dozen or so if the romance is new, a thousand if we’re married to him, and out of those fragments our heart constructs an entire person. What we...

How hollow to have no secrets left; you shake yourself and nothing rattles. You’re boneless as an anemone.

It’s just that, you know how it is in some relationships, how one of them is a little more in love. Well, it’s like that with friendships. Sometimes one of them thinks they’re really close,...

Does love always form, like a pearl, around the hardened bits of life?

Change was not something you waited for, quietly, mutely, in a house by the ocean, nothing would ever change unless we forced it into shape.

Perhaps love is a minor madness. And as with madness, it’s unendurable alone. The one person who can relieve us is of course the sole person we cannot go to: the one we love. So...

The possibilities. Is there any greater pain to know what could be, and yet be powerless to make it be?

It turns out that you don’t end up with the people you love; by definition, you end up with the ones who stay.

How remarkable we are in our ability to hide things from ourselves – our conscious minds only a small portion of our actual minds, jellyfish floating on a vast dark sea of knowing and deciding.

When I meet a woman whose energy falters at the first barrier,she seems to fade beside my mother.