“Of course, the wedding preparations are very stressful," my mother says.My father grunts. "You're not the one writing the checks.”

“For a moment the mole let his disappointment show on his snout. Then he grunted, "You're much smarter than you smell." Liza let out a whoop of satisfaction and chose not to worry too much about what stupidity smelled like.”

“Don't worry about what you're writing or whether it's good or even whether it makes sense.”

“whatever I was writing, I was always trying to write my way back to you.”

“My mother had soft hands that smelled like soap, and a smile like the first bit of sunlight creeping over a trimmed lawn.”

“Walking into parties always gives me a crampy feeling at the bottom of my stomach. Its a good feeling though: The feeling of knowing anything can happen. Most of the time nothing does, of course. Most of the time one night blends into the next, and weeks blend into weeks, and months into other months. And sooner or later we die.”

“I just wanted you to be safe," my mother says. "Do you understand that? Safe, and happy. Anything I could do... even if it meant I couldn't be with you...”