It made me think of my mother, when she made her pie crusts. She'd prick little holes all over the place. So it can breath, she said. I was just breathing. I closed my eyes, anticipating each cut, feeling that wash of relief when it was done.

“Add love, and all the lines between right and wrong were bound to disappear.”

“She has never been a pretty crier. She sobbed the way she did everything else -…”

“I learned a long time ago with you that folks who were trying to be kind would …”

“I want to believe there's a God. Because I sure as hell know there's a devil.”