“Maybe I needed to make like a potato, winnow myself down, be part of something that was not easy, just simple.”

“... I began to ponder; this life we had for ourselves, Eric and I, it felt like the opposite of Potage Parmentier. It was easy enough to keep on with the soul-sucking jobs; at least it saved having to make a choice. But how much longer could I take such an easy life? Quicksand was easy. Hell, death was easy. Maybe that's why my synapses had started snapping at the sight of potatoes and leeks in the Korean deli. Maybe that was what was plucking deep down in my belly whenever I thought of Julia Child's book. Maybe I needed to make like a potato, winnow myself down, be a part of something that was not easy, just simple.”

“I think you want very much to make this black and white--to make us all out to be sinners or saints. But it's just not that simple. I think what you need to accept is that, just maybe, we're all something else. Maybe we're all something in between.”

“It was like that part of my life, was just gone. It was almost too easy, for something I once thought had meant everything.”

“A big complicated mess is easy. Making something simple and clear is hard.”

“The pain had to be great enough for me to accept my reality, to hope that something different, and hopefully better, was out there and to do whatever came next to reach that point. It seems clear and simple when I write it down on paper. But I also know just because something is simple, it does not mean it is easy.”