Is it love, or is it convenience?... She explained that connivence, habit, comfort, obligation- these are all things that wear the same clothing as love sometimes.

Women’s work is never easy, never clean.

You also have to work with the love you are given, with all of the complications clanging behind it like tin cans to a bridal sedan.

Water always finds its own level.

Did I imagine that this was our pattern for all time? That we could grow old together, accusing and forgiving? Back then, I dind’t know what forever looked like. Maybe I don’t even know now. But that night in Piney Woods, I believed that our marriage was a fine-spun tapestry, fragile but fixable. We tore it often and mended it, always with a silken thread, lovely but sure to give way.

Everything I do is a love letter addressed to you.

But who listens to the wisdom of jewelry? Only our bodies know the truth. Bones don't lie.

She pulled away and walked to my bedroom and closed herself in with a little click of the knob. I could have pursued her. A paper clip could best the catch, but when a woman shuts you out, picking the lock won’t let you back in.

Don't make your daughter feel like she got to lay with who you want her to lay with, like you're some kind of pimp.