It’s so easy to focus on the anguish and the misery; it’s harder, somehow, to acknowledge the positive, maybe for fear of jinxing it, bringing the nightmare back down on our heads.

I knew that I did not want to go to that juvenile diversion program because I had an intuitive sense that it would turn me irrevocably into the kind of character that I was now...

It was the kind of summer evening that made Ursula want to be alone. ‘Oh,’ Izzie said, ‘You’re at an age when a girl is simply consumed by the sublime.’ Ursula wasn’t sure what she...

Thoughts are such fleet magic things. Betsy’s thoughts swept a wide arc while Uncle Keith read her poem aloud. She thought of Julia learning to sing with Mrs. Poppy. She thought of Tib learning to...