I have a wonderful husband, and we have had a great life..

Like all magnificent things, it's very simple..

For some, time passes slowly. An hour can seem like an eternity. For others, there was never enough. For Jesse Tuck, it didn't exist..

But dying's part of the wheel, right there next to being born. You can't pick out the pieces you like and leave the rest. Being part of the whole thi….

Don't be afraid of death; be afraid of an unlived life. You don't have to live forever, you just have to live..

Life's got to be lived, no matter how long or short. You got to take what comes..

Readers are lucky - they will never be bored or lonely..

You dont have to live forever just live..

Don't fear death, fear the un-lived life.

The first week of August hangs at the very top of summer, the top of the live-long year, like the highest seat of a Ferris wheel when it pauses in it….

It'd be nice to have a new name, to start with, one that's not all worn out from being called so much..

Time is like a wheel. Turning and turning - never stopping. And the woods are the center; the hub of the wheel. It began the first week of summer, a ….

Still-there's no use trying to figure why things fall the way they do. Things just are, and fussing don't bring changes..

People got to do something useful if they're going to take up space in the world..

Living's heavy work, but off to one side the way we are, it's useless, too. It don't make sense. If I knowed how to climb back on the wheel, I'd do i….

The only thing I would want to say is that storytelling is ancient; it's something that everybody does. Kids mustn't be in awe of it. Reading should ….

Right after graduation, I married Samuel Fisher Babbitt, an academic administrator. I spent the next ten years in Connecticut, Tennessee, and Washing….

the first week of August is motionless, and hot. It is curiously silent, too, with blank white dawns and glaring noons, and sunsets smeared with too ….

Nothing seems interesting when it belongs to you, only when it doesn't..

my mother always found me out. Always. She's been dead for thirty-five years, but I have this feeling that even now she's watching..

Facts are the barren branches on which we hang the dear, obscuring foliage of our dreams..