There are days when I am envious of my hens: when I hunger for a purpose as perfect and sure as a single daily egg..

Alice wonders if other women in the middle of the night have begun to resent their Formica..

Our childhood had passed over into history overnight. The transition was unnoticed by anyone but ourselves..

The changes we dread most may contain our salvation..

Our plans are small and somewhat absurd..

The death of something living is the price of our own survival, and we pay it again and again. We have no choice. It is the one solemn promise every ….

Literature duplicates the experience of living in a way that nothing else can, drawing you so fully into another life that you temporarily forget you….

Lies are infinite in number, and the truth so small and singular..

What we end up calling history is a kind of knife, slicing down through time. A few people are hard enough to bend its edge. But most won't even stan….

Eaters must understand, how we eat determines how the world is used..

Honk if you love Jesus, text while driving if you want to meet up..

I thought: this is how life is, ridiculous beyond comprehension..

I lost a child," she said, meeting Lusa's eyes directly. "I thought I wouldn't live through it. But you do. You learn to love the place somebody leav….

I have my own sheep and I literally sheer the sheep and knot sweaters for friends and family from scratch..

Solitude is a human presumption. Every quiet step is thunder to beetle life underfoot, a tug of impalpable thread on the web pulling mate to mate and….

Want is a thing that unfurls unbidden like fungus, opening large upon itself, stopless, filling the sky. But needs, from one day to the next, are few….

Fiction is a sort of inter-human magic, allowing you to travel into a scene and feel it tingle on your skin..

Mother could go for one year without food, but not one day without her lip sticks..

To be hopeful, to embrace one possibility after another that is surely the basic instinct - crying out: High tide! Time to move out into the glorious….

What we lose in our great human exodus from the land is a rooted sense, as deep and intangible as religious faith, of why we need to hold on to the w….

From my earliest memory, times of crisis seemed to end up with women in the kitchen preparing food for men..