If a woman defined herself solely by the man she was with—and vice versa—the world would be a very shallow and insipid place, indeed.

But fairytales were, at best, dirty mirrors whose warped and pitted surfaces reflected a highly distorted view of the truth, quite different from reality.

You can lie in any language on earth, and body language is no exception.

She had come into the garden expecting summer roses and had instead been caught in a bank of twisted, thorny, frostbitten vines.