“Don’t bleach language, savour it instead. Stroke it gently or even groom it, but don’t “purify” it.”

“Had you been lying all along? Mum gently stroked my hair. I whispered into her shoulder. “I can’t go back. Not yet. I can’t leave.” And she held my head tight to her chest and wrapped her arms around me. “You don’t have to,” she said, rocking me. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, not anymore.” And I cried.”

“Under a bruised sky, fingers of wind stroke the wheat from bleached gold to tan and back.”

“I don’t think I’d come off well on TV. But if you ever see me on, my advice is to add more bleach and keep scrubbing the screen.”

“If you drink, don’t drive. Don’t even putt.”

“Instead of saying “I don’t have time” try saying “it’s not a priority,” and see how that feels. Often, that’s a perfectly adequate explanation. I have time to iron my sheets, I just don’t want to. But other things are harder. Try it: “I’m not going to edit your résumé, sweetie, because it’s not a priority.” “I don’t go to the doctor because my health is not a priority.” If these phrases don’t sit well, that’s the point. Changing our language reminds us that time is a choice. If we don’t like how we’re spending an hour, we can choose differently.”