“When I knew what I had to do / I took all my notebooks, all my manuscripts / and ate them page by page / so I could take my words with me”

“The flowers need wateringthe silver needs a shine.Daughter is a magnetdrawn back to where she was last safe.She touches the tablecloth like a talisman.Tell me who I was. Tell me what I’ve become.”

“One day I'll give birth to a tiny baby girland when she's born she'll screamand I'll tell her to never stopI will kiss her before I lay her down at nightand will tell her a story so she knowshow it is and how it must be for her to surviveI'll tell her to set things on fireand keep them burningI'll teach her that fire will not consume herthat she must use it”

“At times I believed that the last page of my book and the last page of my life were one and the same, that when my book ended I'd end, a great wind would sweep through my rooms carrying the pages away, and when the air cleared of all those fluttering white sheets the room would be silent, the chair where I sat empty.”

“So much of my life had been spent taking and taking and taking. Thinking it was all about me, believing that everything came down to me and how I felt, what I wanted. Even in my grasping attempts to know God, I did exactly that: I grasped. I sought. Sometimes I waited. But I never opened myself, spread my soul wide as an offering so He could come and capture me. I never let Him run strong fingers through my soil, watering it with His grace so my fruit could grow and grow above the weeds that threatened to choke it out.”

“At any moment, you know, your manufactured cool could blow.”

“For once I didn't look away immediately. I forced myself to meet her contemptuous gaze. I allowed myself be swept away by it, to drown in it - the way I'd done so many times before. The way I would willingly do again. Because at least she was here to hate me. At least I had that. I watched my daughter conjure up the filthiest look in her vast arsenal before she turned away with complete disdain. I didn't mind that so much. It meant I could watch her, drink her in without her protest. Look at our daughter, Callum. Isn't she beautiful, so very beautiful? She laughs like me, but when she smiles... Oh Callum, when she smiles, it's picnics in Celebration Park and sunsets on our beach and our very first kiss all over again. When Callie Rose smiles at me, she lights up my life.When Callie Rose smiles at me.”