Funny How A Beautiful Song Could Tell

She Took The Sun When It Came And The Rain The Same Way.

I Was Tired Of Hanging On, Taking The Torn Pieces To Make Something Whole With Them.

My Sister, Who Never Understood Most Of The Things I Wanted Her To, Might Have Been Able To Understand What Had Happened To Me In This Summer Of Weddings And Beginnings. And She Was Right. The First Boy Was Always The Hardest.

She Said Writting Novels Was Like Childbirth: If You Truly Remembered How Awful It Got, You'd Never Do It Again.

I'd Been Through So Much, Falling Short Again And Again, And Only Recently Had Found A Place Where Who I Was, Right Now, Was Enough.