Why do we need a catastrophe to remind us of our own courage?
Memories of my father center on his death and not his life.
In her death, she gave us the one thing we needed most—our family.
I believe that there is magic in girls who become women together.
If we close our eyes and pretend hard enough, our bodies will be something other than our own.
Time spent in remembrance is never wasted.
That in the ocean’s enormity, we can find peace in our insignificance.
Nothing was the same in the library of my memories.
No matter how much we might want to give up, it is worth holding on for the ones we love.
At the heart of who we are, we belong to the towns that raised us.