Grief is a world you walk through skinned, unshelled.

I was not a popular little girl. I played Robinson Crusoe in a small wooden fort that my parents built for me in the back yard. In the fort, I was neither ostracized nor ill at ease - I was self-reliant, brave, ingeniously surviving, if lost.

I feel like I turn into my grandma when I'm pecking away at Twitter. And I don't care.

The 10 or 20 minutes I was somebody's mother were black magic; there is no adventure I would have traded them for.

Sex that accomplishes this kind of transfiguration is a drug. It is not an easy thing to deny yourself once you know exactly where to get it.